#And if they did Daemon justice then Aemond's death

[springs-hurts]

Disliking Rhaenyra was not on my list but thanks Ryan Condal(& Sara Hess)

[fan-goddess]

can you hotd characters (mostly alicent and rhaenrya) when the reader almost passes in child birth? thank youuuu :3

A/N: Yep can do! I’ve never given birth, gotten pregnant nor seen anything resembling child birth apart from the Aemma scene in HOTD so I hope I did this justice!? Sorry this has taken so long!

Character Roll Call: Rhaenyra, Alicent, Daemon, Aemond and Jacaerys (All romantic love)

Warnings: Child birth, talk of infertility, talk of not able to have children, pregnancy, she/her pronouns used in some places for reader, talk of death during childbirth, talk about smut but no smut, dirty talk, a most likely inaccurate childbirth telling, graphic detailing of blood and gore, this is not proofread! (if I miss any please let me know in a way you’re most comfortable!)

Rhaenyra Targaryen:

It was not the typical marriage you and your husband shared. For whilst you had never had a particular fondness for goose, he understood that and went after his own interest in tasting the variety the world provided him with.

So while he was off exploring, you were in the chambers of the heir of the realm. Showing her your devotion in the most unexpected of ways.

Yet soon, after nearly two years of marriage with no children, people were beginning to become suspicious of your womb. More specifically, your husband’s own family. There was talk of them already arranging a second marriage for him as your womb was supposedly infertile. So after a talk with him, you and your husband for a whole of three months, with the help of Rhaenyra. And just when you thought your efforts were unsuccessful, the maester greeted you with a smile, and told you you were with child.

Your lover took the news surprisingly well, as Rhaenyra spent all hours of the day with you comparing possible names for the baby. Your husband had done his part in this game. Now, you and Nyra could spend your days eating the cake and kissing the days away. Acting oblivious to the hateful world surrounding the two three of you.

“What about Aurion?” Nyra suggests, a lazy smile on her lips as she places a fork with a large chunk of vanilla cake on the end between your lips.

“Hmmmmm” You hum, smiling in thought. “Perhaps let’s not raise more suspicions than we’d like my darling. How about something not so Valyrian?”

She laughs, and yet agrees with you with her smile turning strained and sad. Her hand reaches for your own instinctively and you quickly move to grab it and squeeze it tight. “Alright alright! What about Rhys? Ivan? Those are some more boring names!”

You laugh, and yet make sure to note them down somewhere in your head. You discuss names of girls also, just in case. Yet months later as you sat screaming your heart out on the birthing bed, those names disappeared as pain became all you know.

“You must push my lady! The baby is trapped you must push!” One of the ladies in waiting says as she positions herself by your bottom half.

“I’M TRYING TO FUCKING PUSH!” You scream, sweat dripping down your face as your eyes screw shut. Your voice loud as the pain spreads further through you, till eventually you feel it all over.

Soon, the pain that blooms all over becomes numbing. Especially, when you feel your eyes becoming heavy, eventually shutting so all you see is black and the world becomes silent.

“What is happening?!” Rhaenyra screams, her face becoming pale as memories of her mother come flooding to her head. “What is happening to her?!”

“The lady is haemorrhaging!” One of the maesters yells, a multitude of rags of all sorts in his hands as he attempts to stop the blood from further dripping onto the floor. The babe that had quite literally fallen out of your whilst you had fallen unconscious was quickly taken away by the ladies in waiting to be cleaned and attended to. So now, all focus was on keeping you alive. By order of the future Queen of Westeros.

It feels as thought it had taken hours to stop the bleeding. Yet that meant nothing till Rhaenyra who waited anxiously by your side with your hand in her own. Her fingers poised by your pulse so she can reassure herself that you were truly living beside her and not dead like her mother.

By the time you had finally begun to rouse from your deep slumber, the day had turned to night. And all those in the room were exhausted from the effort it took. The maesters in particular, who knew that if they allowed themselves to slack, the princess would soon be upon them with the fury of the dragons.

“My love….” Rhaenyra whispered, at this point uncaring of the multiple people in that room who’d scuttle themselves to her father and the hand at the slightest chance of a scandal. “Do you hurt?”

“As much as childbirth allows me to be in…” You laugh, yet wincing as soon as your body moves. “I am glad you were here… i fear if you weren’t-“

“Do not speak of such things!” Rhaenyra begs, her hands clutching your own tightly as if she was fearful you would drop dead. “I forbid it!”

“Do you say that as my future queen or as my friend?” You murmur, both knowing the true meaning of the word.

“I say that as both..” Rhaenyra whispers, kissing the top of your head as one of the ladies in waiting comes in holding the bundle containing your baby.

“It’s a daughter, my lady.” She says, walking over and placing her in your arms.

“She’s beautiful…” you can’t help but say, brushing away one of her curls from her eyes. You can feel Rhaenyras eyes on you, and so you take her hand and somehow manage to pull her closer.

“I wish to name her Arya.” You firmly say, locking eyes with your daughter who begins to cry in hunger.

“Beautiful…” Rhaenyra says, unable to tear her eyes from the sight of you beginning to breastfeed your child.

Alicent Hightower:

Even while Alicent was married to the king, yours and hers unique relationship had never once wavered. When Alicent had her children with the king, who did not even enter the room when the time of birth came, it was you who held her hand in place of her mother’s, and murmured soft words of encouragement and affirmation into her ears.

While you had your own, even though your mother was there to be by your side as a place of comfort, it was only Alicent name that sprung from your lips. Begging for her to come closer so you can hold her hand and beg her for mercy and encouragements.

Most recently, your third pregnancy had been said by the maesters to be the most difficult one yet. Pain was all you knew through those last few months. Pain in your legs from when you were forced to walk to the dining hall. Pain in your belly from where not only did the baby insist on kicking but also from the cramps the maesters insisted did not need to be further looked at.

Yet Alicent was always close by ready to lend a helping hand whenever the moment allowed her too. According to her, she still has the old treatment the maesters had prescribed her with just in case she fell pregnant again after Daeron.

“You… my utter darling, are my world!” You moaned, eyes shut closed as Alicent carefully massaged the soothing ointment into the base of your feet. She continues to help whenever she can. The ointments and herbs she providing you with being much better than anything the dreading maesters could’ve ever given you.

Yet like most treatments, the effectiveness wore off. Soon, not even the most obscure of medicines would work on you. Pain was always lingering in every part of your body. Even in places you had no idea were on your body.

“I just want this babe out of me!” You groan one night while Alicent once again attempts to stop your pain using this time a supposed miracle working ointments from Lys. “Nothing is fucking working!”

“Well complaining won’t solve anything!” Alicent attempts to jest, though quickly haults any other further attempt after a harsh glare worthy enough to rival the Strangers is sent hastily her way. “Perhaps it is the gods way of telling you how strong you are for having this child? A way to tell you how powerful your son will no doubt be in the future?”

“I would not care if I was to birth a dragon for gods sakes I only with for it to come out of me so I can no longer feel so fucking horrible!” You groan, “I have already told my lord husband that this shall be my last time on that fucking bed! If he even brings his cock within inches of me it’s being torn off his body and fed to your children’s dragons my love!”

“Oh hush now!” Alicent scows, a rare bout of anger coming about her. “The gods have their meanings and their ways! Though I for once shall agree with you. You will be having three beautiful children my love, and that is all you need. Perhaps you could give birth to a daughter and we can betroth her to Aemond?”

“Perhaps…”

By the time the ninth moon has passed, it is quick to say that you were very much serious about this being your last child.

“GET THE FUCKING CHILD OUT OF ME!” You scream, the maesters wincing at the volume rivalling that of a child being born. Something your own child it seems is refusing to let happen. “RIP IT OUT IF MUST BUT IF I DIE I SHALL HAUNT THIS KEEP FOREVER MORE!”

“There shall be no talk of dying on this bed from you!” Alicent yells, her grip on your hands almost as tight as your hand on hers.

The maesters voices cutting through though as they announce how they can see the babes head. Meaning to much your relief the pain will hopefully be soon over and you can hold the thing that’s been hurting you for nearly nine moons in your arms to give it a stern talking off.

You make sure to push hard when the maesters tell you too, even pushing when they don’t so you could hopefully get the babe out quicker. But even when you feel the babe quite literally fall out of you and hear its cries, the maesters make their own cries far more audible.

“Alicent what is happening?!” You ask, feeling what feels like warm liquid gushing from your lower half. Only she does not respond. Only turning paler than the sheets that with horror, you realise are turning a deep red from blood. Your blood.

And It only turns worse when you realise just how faint you feel. A once iron grip you had on Alicents hand turning weak and feeble as your eyes slowly begin shutting.

It’s all a blur when you feel your body waking. Yet still your eyes have not grown enough strength to open, so it’s with great horror you realise you are still conscious but are practically unable to move. You are alive but it is as if your body is dead.

You can hear Alicent beg for your sake. And you realise with your heart beating frantically in your chest that you can also hear her hushing a baby you had not realised was crying this whole time. Your baby.

“Your mother is sleeping now…” You can hear her say, tears building in your eyes when you hear how damaged her voice sounds. “She is strong, your mother. She will wake and see what a beautiful baby boy she has waiting for her… it won’t be long now. I promise.”

You try as hard as you can to open your eyes, yet your attempts prove to be impossible. Yet somehow, you manage to utter two words to your lover while your lower half screams in pain at you.

“Thank you…”

Daemon Targaryen:

It was no surprise to anyone when after a few mere moons after your marriage to the rogue Prince Daemon, you were announcing you were pregnant with his child.

The king had said his congratulations and announced a feast in his nephew or nieces name, and even Daemon had to admit the whole ceremony was wonderful.

Yet like everything in life, all good things must come to an end. The announcement of the first babe of the rogue prince turned sour as news quickly spread about how much pain you were in from them.

The babe refused to let you rest for even a second. All it did was kick and kick, and make you feel shitter than any other possible ailment in the world. You almost felt like having a conversation with the stranger after one too many bouts of particularly bad spells.

“You must let your muña rest ñuha trēsy… let ñuha jorrāelagon rest…” Daemon murmurs one night against the swollen bulge of your stomach. The warmth his dragon like body providing you with being possibly the best thing he’s given you since the day you married him.

“You know I do not understand a single thing you say in that tongue of yours…” You say, eyes closed as you relish in the lack of kicking and blinding pain. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was at least obvious now that your child had chosen favourites.

“Just because you cannot understand something does not mean you cannot understand the beauty of it.” Daemon murmurs, his voice gentle and nurturing as he continues attempting to soothe you.

His words to others would be considered strange and out of character. But as you’ve come to realise over the time of your betrothal and marriage, even though that shared time has lasted around only a year, you know deep down beneath the hardened dragon scale skin of his is a heart that bears solely for the life of those he loves. The latest addition being of course the babe of his own blood nestled in your belly.

It was such a lovely moment, and yet it seemed that would be the last of its kind the rest of the time your babe was steadily growing inside. The more time passed the less Daemons unusually warm body worked in soothing your unrelenting aches and pains.

“Are you okay ñuha jorrāelagon?” He asks one evening, his brows furrowed in what has become a near constant state of stress and worry for you. For is has now nearly been a full nine moons of pregnancy, and with that, it means the babe will hopefully be born.

“Unless you can get this child out of me with no pain,” You grunt, mentally cursing Daemons cock for being what it was. “Then I suggest you leave me be and allow me to wallow with the seed you yourself placed within me!”

For the first time in a while, Daemons worried stricken face turns cheery as he laughs at the familiar wit of yours that helped him to fall in love with you in the first place. The rest of the day is filled with similar circumstances, as while the babe continues to make your days a misery, Daemon is right by your side never ever venturing too far away from you.

You suppose it is why he insisted on being by your side when two days pass and you were on the birthing bed, his hand locked firmly in yours while your screams echo off the walls. You swear you can feel your cunt tear and drip with blood, yet with how much you screamed you honestly couldn’t be able to hear it.

“Please Daemon!” You beg, a multitude of tears running down your face. “Please make it stop!”

“It’ll be over soon ñuha jorrāelagon…” Daemon tries to comfort you with soft words and a tight reassuring grip, and yet his face clear as day is struck with fear and nervousness.

“You said that hours ago Daemon!” You sob, screaming even more as you feel the dragon spawn within you break even more of your innards. “I just want it out!”

“You will my love you will! You are strong and brave and a fighter! You will not die today do you hear me!?”

Daemons hands envelope the sides of your head to force you to look and him, and yet he’s utterly horrified when your eyes roll to the back of your head and your hand that was once clutching his shirt for dear life falls limply by your side.

Daemons words reach no bounds as he insults the maesters and common people alike, swearing if his wife was to die then all shall die with her. So even in the seven hells his wife can make sure she achieves the justice she deserves.

Yet it somehow enrages him further when by the next hour, the maesters have managed to successfully take out the babe from within you, and present it to him as his first born, whilst other maesters make quick work of stemming the bleeding and disposing of the evidence.

Daemons eyes watche as a wet nurse moves to take his son into her arms and takes him into another room so she can clean his son, and it’s not until they’ve left does he begin to shout.

“IS THAT ALL IT TOOK? MY WIFE WAS SCREAMING IN AGONY ON THE BED, BLOOD POURING OUT, AND YET IT IS ONLY WHEN YOUR LIVES ARE THREATENED DO YOU HELP HER?!” He yells, his hand clutching the hilt of dark sister as a reminder that he has the upper hand. He’s the prince of the realm. The rogue Prince. If he wanted to kill people then he will fucking kill someone.

The maesters faces turn ashen as they stand there, practically shaking as they fear for their lives. Daemon is almost tempted to actually kill them. To send a message that no one fucks around with the rogue princes wife. That is however, until he hears a stir behind him and feels a familiarly soft hand clutch his own that previously had clutched dark sister.

“My love!” Daemon breathes, his face one of pure joy as he drops the sword hastily and moves to clutch your still weak body in his arms. “I was so worried!”

“What have you done with my Daemon?” He can hear you say, the laughter in your tone surprising considering what had just happened.

“Don’t worry ñuha jorrāelagon, he was here a few moments ago, about to kill some pathetic fucking maesters…” Daemon begins, turning with a dark glare when he sees the said maesters still standing where they were before in fear. “But I suggest they scarper before dark sister becomes hungry for rat blood once more!”

This time, Daemon doesn’t turn back to watch them all practically run from the room. Not when there is someone in front of him so much more important.

“Where are they?” You say, your movements still sluggish as you wince while trying to turn your body to look around the room.

“Where is who ñuha jorrāelagon?” Daemon asks, preoccupied with finding the cup of milk of the poppy one of the maesters had said was somewhere in the room. A hum of satisfaction slipping his lips when he eventually sees it and grabs it, before placing it by your lips to try and force you to drink it.

“Where’s our baby?” You murmur, wincing again when the bitter taste of the drink runs down your throat. “I want to see them!”

“I will get him for you jorrāelagon.” Daemon says, moving to the direction of where the wet nurse had taken his son too. When he does find her, he does not care for whatever she has to say. Instead just moving to take the boy in his arms and walk back to you, who’s already sat up through the pain ready to see your son.

“Oh Daemon…” You breath, your eyes focused solely on the babe in his arms. “He’s beautiful…”

“He takes after you…” Daemon murmurs back. A soft smile on his face as he moves the boy into your arms. “What shall we name him my love?”

“What about Aenor? First of his name…”

“I love it…” Daemon murmurs, kissing the top of your sweat soaked head and moving to perch against the edge of the bed transfixed by the holy sight in front of him. “I love you…”

Aemond Targaryen:

Your husband wasn’t anything except attentive. Every moment after finding out you were with child he spent within meters of yourself. Even when you slept, his hand was always placed on your stomach.

“I would never allow myself to live if you were hurt ñuha vēzos.” Aemond would murmur against your skin, amongst other Valyrian words this time against the curve of your slowly swelling belly. Each one sending your skin further and further aflame with desire and love for your husband.

The whole pregnancy though, for the most of it, was smooth and ordinary. The baby had begun to kick a little after the fifth moon of your pregnancy, and Aemond was eager to experience every part of it. Yet when you’d passed the eighth moon, that was when everything began to turn on its head.

Pain was blooming in your stomach nearly everyday, and even with the maesters having to forcibly pour milk of the poppy down your throat, you had resisted firmly, not wanting the babies health to be put as such risk especially so close to the due date. Especially when you have been in the presence of the king, who openly abused the opioid near daily.

Yet the maesters with stern eyes and unwavering faces, claimed that if anything, it was the pain inside you that would risk the babies health. So whilst you wished pain on the maesters, they stood there stiffly with a near full to the brim cup of the drink. They watched every time you were needed to drink it. Even going as far as to make you open your mouth wide to make sure you weren’t resisting.

Aemond though like he had done so earlier in your pregnancy, was never as far as an arms reach. He never said anything to maesters face to face, yet he certainly did not hide his anger from you when the two of you would lay in bed holding one another in a close embrace.

“If it weren’t for the babe, I’d strike them where they stand…” He’d begun to murmur. Starting his now usual evening moan about how according to him, they weren’t good enough to care for his pregnant wife. Sometimes it’s sad as you realise how he at his lowest points believes even he is not good enough for you.

“Don’t let that stop you…” You indiscreetly murmur back, a clear glare on your face as you try to drink something to wash away the bitter taste of milk of the poppy.

“Dont you tempt me now ñuha vēzos… I very much can and will make my way to wherever those men lie and slaughter them before it’s time to break fast tomorrow.” Aemond chuckles, a comforting hand on your stomach where near instantly you can feel the babe kick twice. As if the babe was eager to say hello to its father.

“That’s right ñuha valītsos… kepa is here…” Aemond murmurs, his deep voice sending shivers down your very spine. If you weren’t already eight moons pregnant, you very well would be eager to take him right at this moment and take his seed deep inside till it takes root.

“You are getting distracted valītsos…” Aemond says, smirking at the dark blush that spreads on your face. It matters not how long you’ve been married to Aemond for, since he’ll always manage to find a way to fluster him. You suppose it’s as fun for him as it is for you to fluster him. Though you suppose by doing that is how you ended up in this position in the first place…

“How can I not, when theres such a beautiful man in front of me?” You say, grinning triumphantly when Aemonds own face turns a light pink. It’s not as dark as your own, but even seeing Aemond blush without him trying to hide himself away counts as a win to you.

The two of you revel in the rare soft moment between you both, and it’s not long before you both fall asleep holding each other.

It felt so perfect at that moment, as all the previous worries about the babe swept away. The both of you honestly didn’t think the whole ordeal could get worse. That is however, until your waters broke and you were lying on the birthing bed. Your screams breaking Aemonds heart as he tries his best to comfort you to the best of his ability.

Yet his controlled anger and frustration comes out in waves as your screams continue further and further into the day, and the maesters it seems are no further to helping you than from when they started.

Aemond withholds every single urge to kill them for their insolence for your sake, given that they are supposedly they best men available to help bring his and your child into the world. Though when he sees your eyes roll to the back of your head and your body go limp after attempting to push the babe out again per the maesters instructions, all hell broke loose there and then.

“What have you done!?” Aemond yells, his voice whilst commanding also torn with how scared he feels at that moment. His uncles wife, and his grandsires wives had died in childbirth attempting to bring a child into the world. He cannot have such a thing happen to you.

“You are meant to help my wife not fucking kill her! If she is to die today then so shall all of you! Your blood shall stain these walls if she dies do you all understand!” He yells, tears brimming in his eyes from how emotional he currently feels. Aemond refuses to let go of you hand as the maesters scurry around like rats to appease him.

It’s not long before the sound of a babes cry brings him from his sorrowful thoughts.

“It’s a daughter my Prince.” One of the maesters says, before handing her off to a nearby maid presumably to go clean her off of all of your blood and other bodily fluids Aemond most certainly does not wish to be thinking of right now.

Instead, Aemond chooses to grab a lone damp cloth free from any uncleanliness, and carefully uses it to wipe away the sweat on your face. Yet even with all of that Aemond still believes you to be as beautiful as when he first ever saw you.

The sound of your blood onto the floor that Aemond had tried to ignore for his own sake earlier finally stops, and he’s grateful that the maid comes back with his daughter then so he doesn’t have to think about any of that.

“I will give the baby to a wetnurse my Prince for her first feed.” The maid begins to say, about to walk away. That is however before she feels the princes hand clutching tightly on her shoulder forbidding her to leave.

“She will feed from her mother.” Aemond says firmly, moving to take his daughter away from the silly woman’s grasp. “‘Twas a decision me and my wife made and you shall respect that. Now leave.”

The maid stands there a moment surprised, even looking to the maesters for guidance in the situation. But when Aemond looks up at them with a cold glare on his face and a sneer on his lips, both the maesters and the maid make quick work on leaving the Prince with his daughter in his arms and his unconscious wife by his side.

He does not know how long it is till you finally begin to stir, and yet it does not matter. All that does matter is that you woke at all.

“How are you feel ñuha vēzos?” Aemond murmurs, his daughter in one arm as in the other he holds the cup holding the milk of the poppy he makes you drink. Making sure you don’t waste a drop.

“Like I’ve given birth…” You simply say, suddenly focusing on the baby in Aemonds arms. “Is that-“

“Yes ñuha vēzos. This is our daughter.”

Aemonds hands her to you, and when she begins to stir it’s almost instantly you bring down your dress and place her near your breast. Hissing slightly as she begins to immediately nurse from it.

“She’s beautiful.” You find yourself saying, refusing to take your eyes from her. “She looks like you sweet husband.”

“She may look like me but I believe she has her mother’s beauty.” Aemond says, moving to hold your hand in his. “What shall we name her my love?”

“What about Elaenor?”

“It’s perfect…” Aemond says, kissing the top of your head. “She’s perfect…”

Jacaerys Velaryon:

It appears Jacaerys was ever as loyal as they say. As even after being married in an arranged fashion, and finding out you were pregnant with his child after consummating the marriage, his presence was never far from you.

When in the middle of the night sickness plagued your body, it was Jace who was right there next to you with a bucket in hand. Even going as far as to hold your hair back with his hand so no sick could ruin it.

“Is this what it is like for all women?” Jace asks, attempting to smooth you while you once again throw your dinner up into a bucket, groaning whilst you do so.

“Only the lucky…” You moan, about to turn to look at your husband before you find yourself immediately needing to throw up again.

At first, it was strange to you to have a husband be so close and eager to be by up side, given the stories that your mother had told you. Yet now, you honestly could not think of your marriage without the little services Jace provides you with.

Whenever you find yourself craving a certain food, no matter how bizarre or disgusting it may seem to him, Jace was always willing to call a maid and inform her to make it for you.

“Thank you husband.” You sigh in delight, chewing on some honey dipped carrots in the comfort of yours and Jaces bed.

“It is no problem my lady.” He says, awkwardly perched by the edge of the bed covers while he watches you eat.

“You can come closer Jace…” You laugh, patting the side of the bed indicating your want to have him closer to you. His warmth comforting. His smile kind. “You have seen me naked before. I do not think you have the ability right now to be shy. Call me by my name Jace. It is only fair since I have been calling you by yours.”

“Of course… wife.” Jace smiles, a strange girlish sounding giggle leaving your lips as he moves himself closer and opens his arms so he can enclose you in them. “Has the babe been bothering you much today?”

“Only as much as usual.” You sigh, choosing to invite his pointed stare in honour of eating another one of your special foods. “Though not as much as I have been eating these.”

“That is good.” He simply says, softly kissing the top of your head as he touches the skin of your arms with his hand. “That is good…” He repeats again more gentler than the last.

The next few months all went smooth as they could go. You were still throwing up in the mornings and some evenings, and experienced some horrible cramps once every few weeks. What was the most difficult and painful thing you had to endure however, was the birth of the babe itself.

It felt like it was ripping out of you. Screams pierced the air as it felt as if the babe was determined to take your insides out with it.

“It hurts!” You cry, holding Jaces hand so hard he has to hide any audible winces in pain, as whilst he is not the most experience man with women, he knew at that moment to not even think about saying his own pain. Not when he could tell his pain was like a mere headache compared to your own.

“It will soon be over!” Jace says, trying to squeeze your hand in an attempt to comfort you and let you know he is here. But with how much pain is flowing through your system he honestly doubts you can feel it right now.

“I just want it out!” You yell, screaming again as the maester intruders you to push. It’s almost like a rhythm, as when the maester tells you to push, you push. And when you push, you scream at the top of your lungs. It’s like that for what feels like hours and hours on end.

Yet soon, it’s finally over, as the maester finally steps away from you holding a crying baby. The maester looks at him, and shows him his crying daughter.

“A daughter my Prince.” The maester says, placing her in Jaces arms. Your husband’s eyes unable to tear away from the smallest child he thinks he’s ever seen. Possibly smaller than Joffrey from when he saw him as a child.

He turns to you to show you with a smile on his face, but that soon disappears when he sees your face.

“My love?” Jace begins, looking worriedly at your pale sweat layered skin. “You do not look well…”

You try to answer, and yet you even with all your strength you cannot even find yourself able to move your lips, your head even.

That though is when Jace turns his own head and sees the frantic moving of all the maesters and ladies in the room. It’s when he hears a most frightening of sounds. The sound of your blood falling and dripping onto the stone floor. It’s almost worse when he sees how deeply stained your dress is by your own blood.

He’s frozen as he stands there, completey horrified by what he’s seeing and hearing and yet he cannot find himself able to move. His daughter still in his arms, only it’s when she begins to fuss and make sound does another lady in waiting take her into her own arms to put her from the room.

The maesters are beginning to yell now. At the ladies in waiting mainly but to each other a handful of times too. They sound too loud. But that may be because Jace hasn’t said a word since you collapsed against a bed. He does not know what it is he should say. He does not know what it is he should do. His mother has insisted he be in the birthing room alone with his wife, and yet here he is standing alone in the middle of it looking like an idiot.

Yet while he’s thinking, it’s like some sort of driven force when he suddenly realises he’s been holding your hand. Your skin feeling cold and damp from sweat, and Jace stays there the entire time holding onto your hand and staring at you face. He commits to memory the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe, and the feeling of your heartbeat in his hand. He blocks out the sounds of chaos and panic, and chooses to focus on you.

Jacaerys slowly watches the colour bloom back into your face when the maesters finally manage to stem the flow of your blood and keep it inside you. Yet when he sees you open your eyes sluggish and exhausted, he cannot help but have his heart speed in happiness and joy. The smiles may have to come later though.

"My love, how do you feel?" Jace asks, still clutching your hand as he edges himself closer to you.

"Like l've given birth.." You simply say, even smiling as you slowly turn your head to look around the room. "Where is the babe?"

"She is with one of the ladies in the other room, if you wish me to fetch her I shall." He asks, watching as your eyes widen and your mouth fall open in what he can only say in a comedic fashion. Not that he'd dare mention that here though that is.

"We have a daughter…" You say, so silently that he barely even heard you. "Yes. Yes I want to see her!"

"I will go get the lady." Jace says, letting go of your hand for the first time in hours and admittedly as soon as he escapes your sights wipes the thick layer of sweat lingering on his hand on his shirt.

When he arrives back with his daughter in his arms though, he cannot help but smile as he watches your entire face light up at the sight of the babe with what could only be utter awe.

"We did that..." You say, reaching out and immediately rocking the small girl when she's in your arms. "We made her..."

“Yes…” Jace can’t help but agree with you, placing his hand on you as he sits beside you on the bed, watching you as you hold his and your child closely to your breasts. “We made her…”

[damneddamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part ix)

a/n: Silverwing being ride-or-die is my new favourite trope

Princess Aemma Velaryon's death reached Dragonstone only after her forlorn brother, Prince Lucerys, feverishly searched the seas and skies alike for any sign of her or Silverwing. All he came upon of her was the shredded length of her velvet cloak by the shores of Shipbreaker's Bay, his sister's sweet lavender perfume lost to the salt of the sea. He had clung to it like it was his lifeline, and that's how they found him in the Sea Dragon tower, within Aemma's chambers—crying his eyes out and calling out to her.

Luke sobbed deeply, pulling at his hair. "It should've been me."

Queen Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon walked in on Luke, eager to see her children again, and eventually registering his undone suffering. Once the mother noticed the familiar article of clothing—formerly her own—she went insensate. Her shoulders shook, composure gone to ashes, and sank to her knees. Daemon was stoic to the scene, save for his hand that went to direly fist at his sword.

The older prince spoke first, relieving the tension. Despite his grave face, his tone was forbidding, intending to burn. "Who the fuck did this?"

Luke's upper lip curled, his hands clenching at his sister's cape. "Him."

Nothing else needed to be said. The reality of who was capable of executing such treason was well understood, though uttering his name was like spitting venom.

Rhaenyra roared out with the visceral fury of a dragon, and once that drained, she was but an empty vessel. She heaved a solemn breath, palming at her abdomen. The misery that wracked her labours was far less cruel than whatever this was, the anguish overwhelming, her chest aching with the burden of mourning two daughters, their deaths igniting the flames of war.

When she tearily looked to her side, Daemon had disappeared.

Prince Daemon had been conditioned to barbarity and grief, so much they were welcome drinking companions of his. Aemma was no different to this addition. In her, he saw echoes of his own turbulent youth—the same steely determination, the same unpredictability, the restless drive to remain an enigma to those around her. Perhaps it was this reflection of his own wild spirit that spurred him to seek out grisly revenge.

Daemon's warpath toward Caraxes suddenly stopped as he saw him standing before the painted table. The hollow swordsman. The one-eyed kinslayer. A mirror of Daemon's worst motivations. Here stood the rider of the beast that had slain his daughter.

Daemon unsheathed Dark Sister without hesitation, the Valyrian blade slicing through the air with a menacing swish.

"Poetic justice or self-destruction?" he muttered, masking his fury.

Aemond bore a black smile, barely lifting his lips. "Depends on which of us you ask, uncle."

X

Rumours had begun to spread that Aemond Targaryen had defected to the Blacks. Some even called it a surrender. Perhaps it was the stabs of a prickling conscience, the blood stains of love in his hands, or the affliction of sorrow that had overtaken him, making him ready to face the wrath of a grieving mother—and his own death. Bereft of his truest calling, shattered by dreams he had destroyed with his hands, the one-eyed prince swiftly concluded that life held no meaning without his princess. He intended to follow her footsteps soon enough, to fulfil the conclusive detail of their promise: never to part from Aemma henceforth.

Without Aemond and Vhagar, King’s Landing had become perilously vulnerable. The soaring pall of the largest and most terrifying dragon no longer loomed over the capital, and it was clear to all that their strongest defence was now absent. The Greens' was evidently morale staggered. With Vhagar’s absence, Rhaenyra’s forces could bring the fire with seven dragons and fewer consequences, and rumours of dissent spread throughout the city. The Greens were losing their grip, outmatched in numbers and firepower, leaving the smallfolk exposed and the city teetering on the edge of defeat.

Terrible fables spoke of King Aegon and Aemond One-Eye’s grandiose schemes to slay the false queen under the guise of begging for mercy. But these tales were discredited when it was revealed that Aemond had been imprisoned in the chambers of the late princess—a ruthless move orchestrated by Queen Rhaenyra. It was, in every sense, a final sentence.

“If that savage snake truly loved her,” Rhaenyra had said vengefully to her husband, “then that place will drive him mad. Let his evil haunt him. I want to see the fear in his eyes when I burn him.”

Yet fear was not something Aemond would entertain. He would sooner fall on his sword than show terror before his wretched half-sister.

Over time, however, he did fall—deeper into madness consumed by the unfamiliarity of being locked in the space that had once been Aemma’s. The burden of memory became the iron bars and chains of this prison. Numb to everything else, he wandered her chambers aimlessly, haunted by her absence. She was everywhere and nowhere at once—in the vanity, where strands of her hair clung to her hairbrush; in the bureau, where her meticulously folded maps and lists remained undisturbed; and in the faint perfume that lingered in the air, forever scenting her dresser.

A full moon's cycle passed before Aemond began hearing her voice. A breathy echo, a laughing whisper, a figment of his broken mind. With each crash of the waves against the jagged rocks beneath her balcony, he would catch that soft, familiar sound: My friend.

The echo eased him in ways nothing else could, drawing a smile to his face. If this was madness, it was madness he welcomed. My love, he thought, and in that moment, he would’ve gladly surrendered to it.

Jace was the one who finally confronted Aemond, his vengeance boiling over upon his return from the Vale. Sword in hand, he cornered the one-eyed prince in his sister's chambers. What was surprising was how the captive did not baulk at the sight of the angry prince. He simply tilted his head, offering his neck and awaiting the onslaught.

"Fucking murderous cunt," Jace spat, barely above a whisper, trembling with restrained fury.

Aemond was inured now. It resounded in his mind with every breath, a constant reminder of what he'd become. His gaze remained distant, vacant as he met Jace's stare.

"Mount your dragon," Jace ordered, dripping with disdain. "I only spare you this avail because of how dearly Aemma loved you."

Aemond didn’t even blink. It took more effort than expected to form words after days of silence.

"I will not fight you," he muttered, voice gravelly from disuse. "So, get it over with. Finish me."

But Jace wasn't about to grant him that release.

"You're coming with me," he growled, eyes blazing with wrath. "I won't believe my sister is gone until I see it with my eyes. Find me Silverwing, and only then will you get what you so desperately crave."

Aemond turned away, blinking back a rare sting of emotion clouding his vision. He had been so benumbed, that the sensation sliced him raw. His jaw clenched, forcing his voice through the anguish tightening his throat.

"Silverwing sank beneath the waves."

"Then she should've washed ashore by now," Jace snapped, his tone sharpening. "Or been spotted near Storm's End, or found by sailors off Driftmark. Someone would've seen her. I will not grieve with my family until I know for certain. Until I’ve seen damning proof."

Aemond’s teeth ground together in frustration. "My hope ended with her."

"Hope?" Jace sneered, the word wresting bitterly in his mouth. "Know this, uncle—gods forbid I find what I seek, you won’t just be dead to the realm, you’ll be nothing more than a relic of a prince no one will remember."

X

We cannot know the ancient minds of dragons. They were not merely instruments of war—they were beasts of chaos, as unreliable as the gales they rode. A bitter reminder of how little command Targaryens truly held, even over their own beasts. Yet, the Good Queen's Silverwing had always been distinct from the others—gentler, some would say, with a serenity that belied the strength coiled within her shimmering, pale-scaled body.

Her loyalty to her peaceful rider ran deeper than bloodshed or battle, for it was not assumed upon command or duty but of a friendship that transcended power. It was instinctual, a mutual loneliness that they shared. Silverwing had intuited Aemma’s presence since her first touch upon her scales, the soft whispers of affection, the implicit trust.

Following Aemma's descent from her dragon's saddle, the waters hit her hard, churning her into the abyss. Just as the waves threatened to pull her deeper, Silverwing cut through them, her talons outstretched, and in a swift, precise motion, she plucked Aemma from the depths before the sea could claim her entirely. Silverwing’s grip was painstaking, cradling her rider’s limp form between her sharp talons, ensuring she was protected. With a great struggle, Silverwing battered her wings against the storm, fighting the ocean’s pull, lifting them both back into the air, finding cover above the storm clouds.

And now, in the quiet of this remote sanctuary, camouflaged against rocks, their bond held firm, even as Aemma lay unconscious amidst the mud and grass, suspended between life and death.

The old dragon sensed more than the warmth of her rider's skin when she nudged her snout against her constantly, letting out a low, concerned rumble. She felt the pulse of her heart, flimsy but steady, the rhythm of her breath, shallow but resilient. Every beat, every rise and fall of Aemma’s chest was a call to Silverwing, one that she refused to neglect.

Silverwing would shift her body closer at night, nestling Aemma to the earth, her massive wing folded protectively over the young princess' limp body like a shroud of safety from the bitter storms and the chilliness of dusk. Her fiery breaths ghosted over Aemma, keeping her warm.

Days turned into nights, and nights into days, but Silverwing never left, only venturing far enough to find sustenance, returning quickly, her eyes scanning the skies for any threats that might approach. But none came. The world remained unaware of the little hidden firth by the hills and the fragile life it cradled.

Silverwing’s troth was not just an animal instinct—it was a devotion to the one person who had never treated her as a mere beast. For nigh on a week, Aemma had doted on her, spoken to her in the tongue of Old Valyria, just as Alysanne did, with the same reverence and care, and Silverwing, in turn, had taken her into the skies, free from the burdens of the mortal realm.

In this isolated place, far from the throes of war, Silverwing held the last vestige of hope for her rider’s survival. It wasn't until a dark-haired sailor had stumbled upon their refuge that the mighty she-dragon let out her first roar in a while.

Addam of Hull hadn't expected much that day. He had set out on his small boat with nothing but the hope of catching enough fish to feed Driftmark's shores. The oceans had been restless ever since the bloodshed over Shipbreaker's Bay, and his mind had drifted as the waves lapped at the sides of his skiff. He cast his net, whistling a well-known sea shanty, letting the salt air fill his lungs, when something unusual caught his eye, beyond a small inlet of water rambling away from the beach.

A flash of silver. A rustle in the trees.

As his little skiff crept closer and into the currents of the slight strait, Addam’s heart surged. There, nestled within the protective embrace of the rocks, lay a great silvery-blue dragon that was the name on everyone's fuller lips—Silverwing. Her glittering hide was unmistakable, though it bore the wear of days spent at the mercy of the weather. She lay low to the ground, her immense wings tucked tightly around something as if guarding a prized jewel.

Addam wasted no time. He rowed forth, with all the strength he could muster, his mind racing. Could it be? Could Princess Aemma have survived the hand of fate, the cruel sea, her murderous husband, and the relentless storm? Could it be that Rhaeynra's heir was very much still alive?

As he drew nigher, disembarking his boat and clambering up the rocks, Silverwing raised her head, her auburn eyes locking onto him with a vicious intensity. She cautioned him with a low rumble, ready to spew out her ire.

For a moment, Addam feared she truly might lash out, mistaking him for a foe, but she did not move. Instead, she took a prudent sniff and juddered her head, softening almost.

Eventually, she unfurled her wings narrowly, revealing the motionless form of Princess Aemma cradled beneath her. She was drenched, emaciated, tattered, bruised, and her silver hair matted to her gaunt face, but her chest rose and fell.

There was yet life in her. Barely. All alone. No one else. Just Silverwing standing vigil over her as if she’d been guarding the princess all these days. Ten days.

"Gods be good," Addam murmured.

Silverwing shifted away, stooping into the rocky niche, as if to offer her rider to him, but kept her weather eye on him. Addam made quick work of it, lifting her carefully into his arms off the wet ground. She was light, too light, but she stirred faintly at his touch.

"Princess?" He was unsure if she could hear him.

As he carried her back toward the boat, shrouded her in the coils of his nets, her fiery guardian observed the sailor, her vigilant eyes never leaving Aemma’s form.

She pierced a startling trill at her rider's saviour.

Addam jerked in shock, nearly dropping his docking ropes.

Silverwing rose off the ground, and shook herself off, wings beginning to unfurl as if preparing to take flight.

"You—er, stay," Addam stammered, desperately gesturing with his palms, trying to convey some form of command to the dragon.

He knew full well he was speaking to a creature that answered to no man but her rider, and she was not going to let just anyone snatch the princess away unless she was certain they meant no harm.

Carefully, Addam took a step closer, heart thudding in his chest as he bowed his head to the dragon.

"I'm not here to harm her," he said softly as if Silverwing could understand his plea. "I want to save her."

For a long moment, the dragon stayed unmoving, watching him closely, casting her own unfamiliar judgement. Then, with a slow and deliberate movement, she backed away scarcely.

"Thank you," he whispered, though he wasn’t entirely sure if he was thanking the dragon, the gods, or fate itself.

X

Returning Princess Aemma in such a state to her kin on Dragonstone would have them questioning Addam's heartening intentions toward her. Rather than have them cast their vile aspersions on him and taint his shoddy name further, the brothers knew it was only proper to nurse the princess to health before anything else. The secret of Aemma's survival would remain closely guarded for a while longer.

"She thinks I'm her father," Addam quietly shared with his brother, Alyn, upon the fifth evening of secretively nursing Princess Aemma in their meagre home. It had been a total of sixteen days since she was believed deceased.

Alyn raised an eyebrow, glancing over at the small, makeshift room where their heir to the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms lay in a thrifty cot, wrapped in linen blankets and tended to with great care. Her condition had steadily improved, but she remained barely conscious and frail.

"What do you mean, ‘she thinks I’m her father’? Is she delirious?" He asked.

Addam leaned against the doorframe, picking off the herbs from his thumb. "Perhaps she seeks comfort. And she finds it in the late Laenor."

As they spoke, a soft groan emanated from the cot, interrupting them. Aemma stirred, her dark eyes fluttering open briefly before closing again. Her lips moved silently, murmuring incoherent words. Addam and Alyn exchanged a glance, their choices harshening.

Alyn's brow furrowed. "How is she then?"

"Better than expected," Addam replied, shaking his head. "Her fever broke, I've stopped feeding her milk of the poppy. She recalls her mother often. The poor thing had nearly cracked every rib in her chest, the healers had to brace her spine with wood until yesterday. The blood of Old Valyria heals quick, I suppose."

Alyn nodded, absorbing the solemnity of his brother’s words. "And the dragon?"

"Stays close, hovers around the Driftmark groves. I've been feeding her, too," Addam said, shaking his head with a small, wry smile.

Alyn clapped his brother on his back, grateful for him. "How are you faring?"

Addam shrugged casually. "I’m doing what I can."

"Good. Keep watch," Alyn instructed, nodding at him. "On the morrow, I’ll prepare a fresh supply of herbs and check on the guards. There's only so long that we can keep her out of prying eyes."

Addam sat by the firelight in the hearth, his eyes constantly drifting to the young girl as she lay nestled beneath the heavy blankets, adjusting them around her again, his movements careful, almost tender. Every now and then, Aemma would stir, her brow twitching in her sleep, speaking illegibly. The flicker of the flames stained her face in hues of gold and shadow, silvery hair glinting, making her seem almost unearthly, untouchable. She could not have been older than fifteen, an age no child should have to raise battlements in a war.

“She’s strong,” Addam murmured, more to himself than to anyone in particular. “Stronger than I imagined.”

"A future queen," Alyn said. "There's hope for her yet."

X

The second sons of the Blacks and Greens, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon and Aemond Targaryen, were unlikely allies as they scoured the realm despite their bitterness, united on a front to find a whiff of Aemma or Silverwing, searching high and low, from the misty mountains of the Vale to the shadowed peaks of Harrenhal and the foggy forests of the Riverlands. Every whisper of a silver-blue dragon sighting raised their hopes, only to be dashed moments later.

The weight of Aemma's absence dangled over them like a blade. Jace was fierce, relentless in finding that damned dragon himself, dead or alive. Maybe they were on a wild goose chase, led astray to not confront the reality that awaited them. Every dead end with clueless lords and fishermen was a new wound, yet he never yielded.

Their unwavering trepidation whenever the folk and lords saw Aemond cut deeper than a lash of a thousand scorpions. Each glance was a reminder, a searing echo of his own words to Aemma that fateful night: "Better to be feared than scorned." But now, as their suspicions pressed down on him, the question gnawed at his memory—was it really? The cold satisfaction he once sought had curdled into something far more bitter, and he found himself wondering whether 'fear' had ever truly been the answer, or if it had only left him more isolated, more empty.

Aemond, however, wore a stoic mask over his understanding of the truth, though beneath it, the torment tore at his soul. If Aemma's room had been perfect chaos, this was his purgatory. His nights grew sleepless, plagued by the recollections of his mistakes, the sight of her empty saddle still burned behind his eyes. He carried the guilt like a second skin, abrading when it got too thin. A little part of him was driven to heed Jace, an insignificant confidence, not by burden but by desperation—a need for redemption, to see her alive, to prove to himself that she had somehow survived.

Now, close to five nights, it had become custom for Jace, drunk on grief and rage, to drag his feet outside Aemond's pitched tent, embracing his shining sword, fighting his morals. Fighting the inevitable. Jace never spoke to Aemond directly, but his accusations found a way into his earshot.

"Aemma was good. Peaceful," he would hear Jace lament. "She had dreams. She was our sunshine. Now she’s out there somewhere, alone in death. Or worse. And you, of all people, claim to be the one who loved her? You never did. You fucking murderer. Selfish cunt."

This night, a familiar darkness flickered alight in Aemond. Unfailing despair powered him to react. He walked out of his tent, stepping forward in a threat until Jace's raging face was inches apart, his sword slipping from his grasp. His single eye narrowed.

"Say it again," Aemond dared, his voice low and cold. "Say that I do not love her. Say it, bastard."

Jace shoved him by his chest, his rage boiling over. "You threw her away like she was nothing! For your treacherous family! You never gave a fuck about her, and that is the truth!"

Aemond stumbled back but didn’t fight back. How could he, he had nothing left to withstand. His mouth twisted in pain, but his voice remained hard.

"Hate me all you want. Blame me. Strike me down. Your words hold facts. But don’t think for one second that your fury burns hotter than mine. Or that your love for her transcends mine own."

"Fuck you!"

Jace shoved him again, shouting out his rage, this time harder, the power of his wrath pushing Aemond back a step. And again and again, until Aemond fell back into the mud. Back again to ten years ago, when a spiteful Aegon had towered over him, Sunfyre peering over his shoulder mockingly.

Jace met his gaze, the two facing eye to eye, the consequence of years of rivalry and betrayal still fresh between them. But beneath it, there was something else now—shared desperation, grief that only they could understand. The closest brother of Aemma and her husband.

Aemond's breath hitched, bearing himself with his palms, the words barely escaping through his gritted teeth. He looked Jace in the eye, his jaw tight.

"I have nothing left. Seize your sword and end it all."

Jace leaned down, seething, his voice trembling with scorn. "Look at where your absolution got you. Begging your foes for death. Pathetic."

Aemond’s hand twitched toward his dagger on instinct, his face a storm of rage and remorse. He had been so accustomed to being on his back, bearing through the punches thrown, facing defeat, now when he was made to encounter this yet again.

"Yes. That is all you see," Aemond agreed, his expression darkening. "All you ever see. Aegon, Rhaenyra, you. A pathetic boy too sightless for power. I've belonged nowhere but with Aemma all my life"—his voice cracked—"and now she's gone, too. And I am left trapped in this resenting world."

Jace stayed quiet, breathing deeply.

"I could not save her," he whispered, the words hollow as they left him. "No atonement will ever free me from this, even while I chase forgiveness from a ghost. I will never know peace again until my last breath."

His trembling fingers unsheathed his dagger and threw it to Jace's feet. "Make your shot count, nephew. Plunge it into my other eye, and take what is due. I do not care anymore."

Jace’s mouth opened, but no words came out. He took a step back, torn between fury and pity, his expression unreadable. He looked away, blinking back tears as if the significance of Aemond’s words was too much to bear. He couldn’t bring himself to speak—there was nothing left to say.

"You don't deserve peace, not even in death," Jace eventually whispered before walking away.

X

The air was dense with the scent of salt and damp wood as Aemma lay in a bed draped with soft linens, the faint sounds of the lapping waves against the rocky shores of Driftmark echoing in her ears. Her body felt heavy, as though weighed down by an invisible force. Pain coursed through her like a vicious tide, abrupt and relentless, yet there was a warmth surrounding her that whispered of safety.

Fingers of consciousness began to weave their way through the fog enveloping her mind. Flashes of memory flickered like distant constellations—Silverwing’s fierce wings, the chaos of the storm, and Addam’s urgent voice calling her name. She struggled against the haze, her heart pounding with the remnants of fear and desperation.

"Aemma." The voice broke through her reverie, softer now, tinged with concern.

She fought to open her eyes, the effort feeling monumental. Slowly, her eyelids fluttered, and the dim light of the stuffy room began to emerge. A figure stood at the foot of the bed, cloaked and hooded, shrouded in shadow.

A wave of shock washed over her, and before she could fully grasp the situation, he lunged forward, pressing a warm hand to her lips to silence her gasp. Heart racing, Aemma’s gaze narrowed, the edges of her memory sharpening.

"Ssh, my love," he shushed her.

She recognized the intensity in his gaze, even from beneath the hood. He hovered close, his presence both alarming and strangely familiar. His silver hair rolled off his neck and shoulders, catching the light and casting shadows that accentuated the depth of his expression. One striking violet eye shone through the darkness, piercing and filled with emotion, while the other was shrouded in shadow.

“Aemond,” she murmured, her voice barely a whisper, like the faintest breeze. It felt like a lifetime since she had last spoken, her throat dry and cracked.

He flinched at the sound of her voice as if she had struck a nerve. Slowly, he lifted his head, an indigo eye swirling with a charged storm—pain, regret, and something darker lurking beneath the surface.

His voice was as firm as steel, yet equally gentle. "We've done our parts here. You’re coming with me, and this time, forever."

X

[asumofwords]

The Sublet - Roommate!AU

Warnings: She/her pronouns, slow burn, angst. Tags will be added as the fic goes along. Angst, death, mourning, funeral, fluff, smut, daddy kink, breath play, spanking, slapping, fingering, face fucking, degradation, gagging, deep throating, dumbification, edging, creampie, crying, dacryphilia, dirty talking, name calling, rough handling, sadomasochist, sadism, spitting, spitplay, squirt, the correct method of choking, drugs (weed), alcohol, smoking.

Pairings: Modern!Aemond x Reader

Summary: Living with Helaena Targaryen was one of the best decisions you had ever made. Meeting at university, the two of you became thick as thieves and quickly best friends, moving into a flat together. But what will happen when Helaena has to leave, and her quiet, brooding, brother moves in?

Notes: Another monstrous chapter sitting at 10+k, because when I said this series was going to only be 15 chapters I meant it hahaha. Goodness, gracious me, here we are. We have come to the end of this series! Thank you so much for all your love and support this whole way through! I hope that you have enjoyed it, and I hope I did the ending some sort of realistic justice. I shall be getting onto my requests now hehehe, anyway, ENJOY! <3

Final Chapter: Stay

Waking that morning, you had not expected to be met with what you were. You had thought that the day would be spent with some awkward, uncertain glances cast Aemond’s way, with the others casting theirs towards you both. Then perhaps you would talk again. 

Or fuck.

Or both.

Your little traitorous brain hoped for both. 

But no, that's not what you woke up to that morning. You woke up to a nightmare come true. And although all had prepared for it for years, and in fact, the reason why all were back at the Red Keep, it still came as a bombshell that shook the family to its very core.

Viserys was dead.

Gone peacefully in his sleep, found by none other than his doting eldest daughter and wife. 

You had woken to the bedroom door shutting, a peak of Criston Cole’s hair in the crack of the door. Helaena stood frozen by it, swaying slightly on her feet before she walked over to the bed and sat down, staring at the far wall.

“Hel?” You sat up, hand coming to touch your best friends shoulder, “What's happened?”

Fear of the unknown settled into your gut. 

Her lavender eyes turned to you.

“He’s dead.”

The Keep was in disarray. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon were in shambles, having lost a father and brother all in one. It was a most terrible thing to witness. You felt grief yourself for your friends, and for the family as a whole as they moved through the motions of his death, his leaving of their worlds. You felt akin to an invasive species as you sat amongst them, foreign, displaced, unfitting in their neat yet disturbed world.

Lucerys and Jacerys were grieving with their mother and step-father, the twins joining them. As for the other children of Viserys? That was another story.

Amongst the four of them, there was not a single tear shed for their father, bar Aegon in the early light of the morning, stained cheeks hidden in the shadows, red rimmed eyes, and a tiredness that no young man should have at his age, pulling down at his shoulders. But he had swallowed it quickly and quietly as he had for his whole life and went outside to smoke.

You couldn’t however account for Aemond, as he was nowhere to be seen. 

Sitting in the gazebo with the three silver haired siblings, you tried to offer condolences, a shoulder to cry on if needed, but all were content to grieve in their own way; Aegon smoking yet another joint, Daeron texting someone animatedly, and Helaena, simply staying quiet and composed beside you. 

It wasn’t what you had expected for people to have just lost their father, but you supposed that everyone grieves in their own ways, theirs being much different to your own.

Helaena stood from where she had sat, dressed in all black, something you had not once seen her wear, a stark change to the bright colours that she usually donned. Perhaps this was her way of showing her grief. Her mourning. 

Her loss.

“Walk with me.” She said quietly, and you nodded, jumping up as you grasped her hand, letting her lead you down the garden to look at the various plants and trees that were in a part of a gated garden entrance. 

Greenery of all sizes, shapes, and colours grew beautifully, small little plaques beneath identifying their scientific name. The Red Keep's garden had some of the rarest of flowers and trees in the whole of the realm. It even had the famed Winter Rose’s from the North in a special greenhouse that kept them in below freezing temperatures. 

It was still early in the day, the sun only just rising to its peak as you walked together in silence, your hand in hers as you followed her lead, looking at the shrubs and immense show of wealth. If it weren’t for the reason of your walk, you would have been more animated upon seeing some rare and beautiful orchids, perfectly potted and healthy.

Your steps crunched along the cobblestoned path, twisting around to an extended part of the estate that you hadn’t been to. There, in front of you, was a most beautiful sight to behold. 

Ruby red leaves sprouted out of ashen branches, twisting upwards towards the sky. 

A Weirwood tree.

And a very old one by the looks of it. 

“The Godswood.” Helaena explained to you, taking you closer to it.

You were so entranced by its incredible beauty, thinking of how Cregan's description of his back home didn't do it justice, that you hadn’t even noticed the man that sat amongst its roots, leant back on the trunk.

Aemond Targaryen sat beneath the branches and leaves of a tree that had been a symbol of the Old Gods to his family for hundreds of years. One leg was stretched out in front of him, whilst the other was bent, his long arms crossed over the top of his knee lazily. 

He watched you as you came towards him, words caught in your throat. 

The light that peaked through the tips of the branches shimmered down on his pale hair, causing it to glimmer with each parting of the leaves from the breeze that rolled through. His face looked flat, emotionless.

Blank.

Helaena’s hand slipped away from yours and you turned to look at her. She gave you a soft smile, before she walked away without a word, leaving you in the small Godswood courtyard with her brother. 

You stood for a moment or two, the both of you watching each other before your legs pulled you towards him. You moved to sit beside the long limbed man, pulling your knees up to your chest as you kept your eyes straight ahead, not wanting to make him feel overcrowded, or as if he was being observed. Instead, you hoped that your presence was, at least, the tiniest bit of comfort if he needed it.

You weren’t sure what to do or say as you sat together, both staring off into the distance as the soft rustling of leaves moved overhead. If not for the death that had occurred in the early hours of the morning, the day would have been beautiful.

It was like that for a while, just the both of you. Basking in each others company silently, and yet you felt the need to do more. To say more. To show him more. To show him that you cared, to try and rebuild that bridge that had been torched between the two of you, in the way he had attempted to last night. 

You felt guilt knowing that he would have woken up to not only an empty bed, but the news of the death of his father in a Keep he didn’t want to be in, surrounded by people he so desperately tried to avoid.

Tendons and veins pulled beneath the skin of Aemond pale hand as he rubbed a thumb and forefinger together atop his knee.

It was always his hands. Something you had learned rather quickly about him. His hands always moved when in thought, when irritated, lost, or angry.

Any strong emotion caused the man to fidget.

It was a habit that he shared with Helaena, no doubt inherited by their mother.

With no other way to convey what you were feeling, you lifted your hand and placed it atop his. His hand was warm, and twitched beneath yours. Aemond, without wasting a second, flipped his over and held onto yours tightly, threading his fingers through yours atop his knee.

Silence stretched forever until-

“I don’t mourn him.” Aemond’s voice moved with the breeze, soft and quiet, gently carried away from the courtyard, and you felt a pull of sorrow for him deep within your chest.

“We weren’t ever close. Cole was more a father to me than him.” There was a hollowness to his words which you would argue was grief, until he continued, “I don’t grieve the man he was, I grieve the father he could have been to me. The father he should have been to me. Something that I never had.”

Tears prickled in your eyes for him.

Gods.

Why had life been so cruel to this man?

A soft chuckle floated from his lips, a stark difference to his demeanour before, “I used to try so hard to impress him when I was young. Studied, learnt our traditional tongue before any of my other siblings did, and even then, it wasn’t enough for him. I was never enough for him. He was sick, yes,” Frustration bled from his shoulders, tense and closed in, “But he had more time for them than us.”

There was the anger.

Sorrow.

Spite.

Aemond Targaryen had felt he had been in his nephews shadow his whole life.

And it showed.

“It was worse for Aegon. First son and all. A shiny new toy for Viserys before his expectations became too high for Egg and he rebelled. Then nothing he would do could impress the man.” 

You squeezed his hand tightly, shuffling across the hard roots of the tree to get closer to him, leaning your shoulder heavily against his, so he could feel your weight, so he could feel the heat of your body. To comfort him, to be there for him, all while not being smothering.

“I’m sorry, Aemond.”

He shook his head, long strand of silver falling over his shoulder as he looked at you, “Don’t be.”

Silence fell over you again, and you watched as a lone red leaf, pointed sides and all, slowly drifted from above the two of you down onto the grassy ground below. It swooped from side to side, spinning gently before soundlessly falling amongst green blades.

You didn’t want him to be alone. 

You didn’t want him to feel isolated.

And in your restless, sleepless night, you had thought about him.

“It’s going to be okay.” You whispered, and watched as he turned his head to look back at you, his lone eye searching your face. 

Your thumb soothed over his gently, your words having more than one meaning.

His bottom lip was pulled into his mouth by his teeth, and then his voice came up and out from deep within his chest as he gazed at you intensely, clouded eye unmoving, and the sun shining down onto his scarred side of his face.

“Stay.” He asked you for the very first time.

A stark opposite to all the times you had uttered that word to him. 

Asked him to stay with you.

It was first time he spoke that four lettered word to you, beneath the crimson leaves of the ancient Godswood in a home that he had grown in.

You heeded his request. 

Together, you sat beneath the branches and looked up through them, side by side in a wordless promise to each other.

Stay.

-

The next few days were a whirlwind. The funeral was held on the grounds of the estate, people from all over flying in to say their goodbyes to the patriarch of House Targaryen.

At first you had asked Helaena if you could go back home, not wanting to intrude on her families grief, but she had insisted, no, begged for you to stay for the funeral.

And so you had.

It was an intense and sad ordeal, but not once did you leave Helaena or Aemond’s side. You stuck by them both, and he always came to you.

Crossing the kitchen to come to you. Crossing the dining table outside to come to you. Crossing the hall to come to Helaena’s room and sit on the bed with the two of you, happy to be just in your presence and not say a thing. 

Aegon had silently cried at the funeral. The only child of Alicent to do so. You had watched as fat tears rolled down his rosy cheeks, eyes cast at the coffin of his father, as his mother stood stoically beside him.

Alicent Hightower had cried softly when she had read the eulogy, then followed by Rhaenyra and Daemon's. It was the only time that you felt you would ever see the pair look out of their usual controlled demeanour. 

After the funeral, there was the service, where all came to Rhaenyra and Alicent to offer their condolences, the two women standing side by side in all black. At one point, you had watched as Alicent’s pinky reached out, searching for Rhaenyra’s hand. It had curled against the other woman’s, and you watched as the other tilted her head slightly in shock, before she made a larger move, and curled her hand directly around the auburn haired woman’s beside her. 

It was days after the funeral before all of you were back together again, side by side.

It had been a long day, longer than the last, and the night had bled into the sky in a deep purple before turning to its deeper shade of blue. Aegon had done rounds, going to each and every room to tell all to meet him down at the pool for some well needed drinks. 

Aemond had been sat at Helaena’s vanity watching the two of you sit on the bed and softly giggle at a message Sara had sent her, your silver haired friend more intent on moving forward than looking back.

Hand in Helaena’s, you led her and Aemond down to the pool, not bothering to put swimmers on. 

It was dark outside, the usual lights strung about the garden having been turned off, the only source of light coming from the moon, the stars, and the smaller lights that edged around the pools perimeter.

The others were already there, you having seemingly been the last pitstop, passing around popped bottles of champagne, wine and beer. There was the sweet, dank smell of Aegon’s weed again in the air, the short haired man leant back on his elbows as he looked up at the sky, bottle of Moët in one hand.

It was awkward at first, what with Jacaerys and Aemond’s outburst the last time you were all together before the funeral, but before long, and with the help of your trusty liquid courage, all seemed to melt into the numb feeling that the alcohol brought them. 

You laid back in one of the armchairs, Helaena, between your legs, head resting on your stomach as you brushed the silver strands away from her face as she looked up at the stars. Aemond watched from beside you, having pulled over one of the other poolside chairs.

The twins, and the brown haired boys were sat at the waters edge with Aegon, their legs dangling into the pool as they swung them softly back and forth, drinking and talking quietly amongst themselves. 

Daeron, having disappeared for a moment, came back with his speaker, softly playing music through it to fill the gentle quiet that surrounded you all.

It was soft, calm, and peaceful enough for such a tumultuous time, and as the night got longer, and bottles of alcohol became drained, blunts were passed, and inhibitions were lowered, smiles and laughter were shared amongst all. 

Even Aemond.

But that stillness was disturbed when the tipsy, brown haired Lucerys stood and faced everyone, bottle of red wine in hand. The smiles dissipated, and a serious energy floated amongst everyone again.

“I want to make a toast.” The young man said with drunken confidence, thrusting out the wine bottle towards Aegon, “To Viserys.”

Jacaerys lifted his beer towards his younger brother, the twins following suit with their cans of fruity mixer.

Lucerys’ eyes fell on Aemond, before his lips pulled down solemnly, turning away to roam his gaze on everyone else, “He wasn’t a perfect man-”

Aemond quietly scoffed beside you.

“-But if it wasn’t for him, none of us would be here.”

Aegon hummed in agreement, sipping deeply from his almost empty bottle of Moët. 

Lucerys’s gaze fell to you as he scratched the back of his neck, “Except you, Y/n. You’d still be here. Well, not here here. But you’d still-“

“-Alright, move it on.” Baela joked lovingly at him as he began to ramble. 

Straightening his posture, Luc thrust his wine up to the sky, “To Viserys.”

All lifted their drinks up to toast, bar Aemond, hands bringing wine to their lips, beer to their mouths, or champagne to their tongues. You offered Aemond a small, sad smile, and he returned it, sipping at his beer in thought. 

It wasn’t a full toast per-say like the others, but he drank in the mans honour regardless.

A large palm opened up towards you, pale fingers lazily spread in offering. You looked at his long digits, signet ring on one.

“Come here.” Aemond hummed, gentle look in his eye. 

Helaena pulled herself from your lap and looked at her brother, “I thought you’d never ask!” She chirped playfully, and he rolled his eye at her. 

A small giggle fell from your lips as you looked at his hand again. Still outstretched towards you in front of everyone.

In front of everyone.

Your heart raced in your chest as you stood, placing your hand in his, the warmth of his palm spreading up your arm as you moved over to Aemond, who pulled you between his long legs in a similar way you had done with Helaena. His legs were bent on either side of you with your back against his chest. You felt his chin dip to rest at the top of your head, and a warmth spread through your chest like wildfire. 

Helaena smiled at your warmly as Aegon craned his neck backwards to look at the two of you.

“How long has this been going on?” He teased, glassy eyes narrowing on the both of you.

Lucerys, who had sat back down beside his brother after his toast, turned around with Jacaerys to observe. And when their heads turned, the others followed.

Heat rose in your cheeks and you felt a sudden shyness at it all. The urge to hide was strong.

But really, what was this?

You didn’t know.

But it was something.

Something more than before.

But still, you didn’t have an answer, so you moved to respond.

“Oh, we’re n-“

“-A while. I was just a dick about it.” Aemond interrupted you, and your heart soared.

Did he -

Did he just-

Did he just confirm your thoughts?

Did he just validate your feelings?

Answer all your burning questions that had kept you awake at night?

A while.

That implied that this was more.

That this had always been more.

That this was solid.

That this was-

“So that’s why you wouldn’t fuck me.” Aegon pouted, smirk pulling at his lips.

Aemond sighed heavily behind you, “That and the fact that you’re utterly repulsive.”

Aegon’s mouth dropped open as he stared at his brother, “You wound me! I’ll have you know that there are plenty of people who haven’t found me repulsive.”

“Too many, if you ask me.” Helaena snickered.

Aegon flicked his joint at his sister, standing straight as he looked down at everyone. 

“Good thing I didn't ask you. I’ll have you know I’m polyglamourous.” Hands on his hips.

“Polyamorous.” Daeron corrected his brother.

Aegon grinned, victory in his cheeks, “I meant what I said.”

Aemond’s hand rubbed up and down your thigh soothingly as the night moved on, goosebumps rising on your flesh with each stroke of his long fingers. His chest was warm against your back, and you felt that you could fall asleep from where you were.

Helaena squealed at her phone loudly, breaking you from your fatigued thoughts.

“What is it?” You turned to face her, watching as a large grin pulled at her lips.

“Sara got us tickets to see the Phantom of the Opera!”

“What!”

“Yes!” She shook her phone in her hand whilst she screamed in excitement, “I can’t believe she remembered!”

Aemond chuckled from behind you, chest vibrating against your back, “Of course she'd remember. She’s in love with you.”

Your best friend suddenly became shy, a blush rising on her cheeks rapidly, turning them a bright red that even in the darkness of the night, you could see, “I know that. I just can’t believe it.”

“I’m jealous. Ask her where my ticket is.” You teased, “So I guess this means I’ll be seeing more of Sara again?”

Helaena gave you a knowing smirk, and you gave her one right back. 

You were happy for her.

Really happy.

They were perfect for each other. And you always knew that they would get back together again. That and Helaena always told you so, and Helaena was never wrong.

Aegon having come round to where you sat, snatched his sisters bottle of Prosecco, downing the remainder in one gulp, a refreshed and exaggerated gasp filling the air as he ruffled her hair, a growl and swat of a hand coming for his arm which he dodged last second.

Aegon giggled, running around the rim of the pool, shoes kicked in one direction, socks thrown in the other, shirt torn from his back in one yank, and then came his pants. Your eyes widened as Aegon stripped himself nude before jumping into the pool with a yell. 

He emerged from the cool water with a flick of his wet hair laughing, sending a hand splashing towards the twins and he smiled, “Come onnnn, live a little! Get in!”

Baela and Rhaena gave each other a shared look before standing, stripping themselves of their clothes before jumping in, hand in hand.

Before you knew it, you were all stripped bare, splashing about in the pool laughing and swimming around. 

Even Aemond.

His cheeks were pulled taut by the grin plastered to his face as he swam towards you, tickling your sides as you screamed for backup from Baela and Rhaena, who swam towards you, a flurry of splashes and squeals until his large palms rose above the water and conceded. 

Aegon pulled another spliff from the side of the pool and passed it around, and although it was dark, and you couldn’t see the details of anyones bodies, you still felt slightly shy in knowing that not only were you naked, but you were naked with a certain someone pressed up against your back.

At one point, you could have sworn you felt his cock twitch against the cheek of your ass, but you shrugged it off, going to the others as they tossed a ball like piggy in the middle back and forth, little Lucerys in the centre trying to jump up to catch it with all his might.

Eventually the water grew cold, and as you swam to sip at some of Baela’s drink, Aemond slid from behind you, hand wrapping around your waist. Heat spread through you as you felt him press up against you, mouth beside your ear.

“I think it's time for bed, don’t you?” He whispered hoarsely.

You bit your lip turning your head to try and sneak a peak at him, but was interrupted by a loud and obnoxious wolf whistle. 

Aegon grinned at you both, “No fucking in mummy’s pool.”

“Ugh, Aegon. What the fuck.” Helaena grimaced.

A laugh exploded from your lips as you turned to look at Aemond, who was chewing the inside of his cheek, desperate to hide the smirk that was rising on his face. 

“Come on.” He urged you, tilting his head to outside of the pool.

You climbed out with his help, getting dressed, all the while Aegon continued to whistle at the two of you and make obscene noises. But it was short lived as Helaena pushed Aegon’s head under water with all her weight, Jacaerys and Luc clapping in laughter.

You saw this as your out and grabbed Aemond’s hand, racing him through the Keep in fits of giggles until you reached his room, anticipation strumming in your gut. You watched as he shut the door behind him, turning to face you. His hair was wet, much like yours, and he advanced on you slowly, energy bouncing around inside of you.

“Come here.” He beckoned you with a finger, soft smirk on his lips.

You shook your head at him cheekily, “Nuh uh.”

His head tilted as he looked at you, “Please.”

Your feet carried you towards him, a magnetic pull dragging your chest to his. He smiled warmly down at you, cupping your cheek with one hand as the other dragged a wet strand of hair away from your face.

“Beautiful.” He praised you, before dipping his head down to kiss you.

Aemond bent slightly as your arms wrapped around his neck, large hands wrapping around your thighs as he hoisted you up into his arms, carrying you towards the bed as you didn’t once break the kiss. 

It wasn’t hurried like the last time.

It wasn’t frenzied.

This time, you took your time with each other. 

Aemond stripped you of your wet clothes and brought you to your peak on his tongue, his name whispered from your mouth like a prayer. He hovered above you as he slid in, watching the way your mouth opened and brows furrowed at the stretch, his lips pressing sweet kisses to the side of your face as he slowly moved through your folds, the tip of his cock rubbing against every point within you.

“So fucking beautiful.” He praised you as you fell apart once again on his cock, walls gripping his length tightly as you keened and whined, hands gripping the sheets for dear life as he smiled sweetly at you.

This was a side of Aemond you hadn’t seen before, and a side you hoped to see more.

He came with a quiet moan of your name, head dipping down into the crux of your neck as he planted kiss after kiss there.

You spent the rest of your night together curled in each others embrace, falling asleep with one word echoing in your mind.

Stay.

-

Waking up in a dark green and black room was disorientating at first, probably exacerbated by the steady strumming of a slight hangover in the back of your mind. But the warmth of two strong arms wrapped around you, and the familiar scent of Aemond that filled the space between, reminded you of where you were, and who you were with. 

Your eyes opened as you looked up at him. His good eye still shut, chest rising and falling slowly.

Everything had happened so fast.

It was as if a match had been lit and set you both ablaze. The two of you burning together hotly, in more ways than one. Your tempers. Your stubbornness, but more importantly, your desire to be with one another. 

It was different with him.

Unlike anyone else before.

Passionate.

Fiery.

All encompassing.

And you relished in it.

Relished in the fact that not only was it real, not only tangible, but Aemond had made it open last night as he had pulled you into his lap in front of everyone, and verbally confirmed what had been happening all along. 

You weren’t ‘Helaena’s roommate’. 

You were more.

You knew that now.

His confession for his love for you however, was something that the two of you would dissect on a later date. But right now? You would be lying if you said you didn’t feel the same way. Didn’t feel the same pull in your heart towards him when he would smile, or laugh, or just look at you. Or how your body would be set alight with even just a touch of his hand.

Aemond Targaryen had you well and truly under his spell.

And there was no other place you’d rather be.

Aemond shifted beside you, eye blinking open sleepily before he looked down at you.

“Morning.” His voice crackled with sleep, mouth opening in a small yawn before he pressed a kiss to the top of your forehead.

Your heart raced in your chest.

“Morning.”

Aemond squeezed you to him tighter as he stretched out the fatigue in his limbs, a whiny grunt escaping his lips.

That was noise you hadn’t heard before.

He sounded content.

Comfortable.

Safe.

But there was still one final thing. 

You wanted to be sure that last night wasn’t just a drunken little display, or a declaration emboldened by the grief around the others tainted by possessiveness against Jacaerys.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly, watching as he blinked at you again.

“Whatever happens, happens.” His voice was deep, lulling you into a calm, “But I know I want to be with you.”

Here it was.

“Are you sure?” Your eyes searched his face.

This was it.

His last chance to back out.

His last chance to say no.

“I’ve never been more sure about anything in my life.”

You couldn’t contain the grin that creeped on your face, hands pulling him down into a relieved kiss, pouring your adoration and care for him into it as much as you could.

He returned it equally with fever.

Heat ran through you as you pressed yourself closer to him, gasping into his mouth as you felt his cock twitch against your thigh. Aemond groaned into the kiss but pulled away.

You looked at him in confusion.

“Come on, we got to have breakfast with the others.”

You whined, plopping back into the pillows with a huff, “I don’t want to.”

Aemond chuckled from beside you, sitting up in the bed as he ripped the sheets away from your body, exposing your naked form. You rolled over onto your stomach, hiding your face in the pillow as you whined.

Two light smacks landed on the cheek of your ass, and you cried out in surprise, “Come on, grumpy.” He teased, “I’ll give you what you want after. But first, we need to eat.”

At the promise of getting what you wanted, you rolled out of bed, begrudgingly, looking at your semi wet pile of clothes in disgust.

You could do a run down the hall to Helaena’s room, but you could also be spotted running nude through the estate, which to you, didn’t seem appropriate considering the funeral held there only a few days past.

Aemond must have noticed your predicament, “Here.” He came over to you, handing you one of his black shirts and those grey sweats you loved so much.

You threw them on, the top coming down to your mid thigh. The pants however, didn’t stay up, and kept sliding down your legs no matter how much you tightened the strings or rolled them at your hips. 

Aemond laughed at you as you stepped out of the pants and threw them at him in a huff. 

“I need pants.” You whined, searching his room.

“Would prefer it if you didn’t.” He raised a brow at you.

Your core clenched around nothing as you looked at him, his stance challenging you to obey.

So this is the game he wanted to play.

Smirking, you turned to the door, opening it up, “Come on. We will be late.”

You left without looking back, not getting to see the way Aemond’s tongue poked into his cheek, watching you trot out of his room clad in his shirt.

Only his shirt.

The others were seated at the table outside picking at the spread. They all greeted you both as you moved sit down, except Aegon, who’s head was in his arms atop the table as he groaned dramatically and loudly for all to hear.

“Is he alright?” You asked Helaena, watching as she rolled her eyes at her older brothers antics.

“He’s fine. He’s just a drama Queen.”

“Drama King.” He grumbled back.

You ate together for a while before catching Helaena’s attention, it wasn’t something you wished to do, but it was something you had to nonetheless.

You had to go home, and what was more, you had to go back to work.

“Hel, is Criston around today?” You asked, plopping a sweet piece of watermelon into your mouth.

“I think so. Mum’s home today. Why?” Her head leant against her hand as she twirled one of her dragonfly earrings in between her fingers.

“I have to go back to work. I’ve used far too much of your mothers generosity, and uni starts back up next week.”

Helaena sat up straighter, “Holy shit, that’s next week?”

You nodded, “Yep. Not looking forward to Orwyle’s Citadel History class. Man could bore you to tears. I think I’ve actually cried once or twice.” You joked, rolling around a slice of starfruit on your plate before plopping it into your mouth, enjoying the sweet nectar that coated your tongue.

“Are you going to take Rhaenyra’s offer?” Helaena asked, eyes flitting from you and then to Aemond.

“What offer?” Came the grumbling groan of Aegon, his head lifting momentarily to look at you. 

If he wasn’t speaking and breathing in front of you, you would have mistaken the man for being dead. Dark rings sat beneath his eyes, and his pale skin had a sallow dullness to it that made him look almost grey.

“Rhaenyra offered her a job at her firm.” Helaena confirmed.

Aegon grunted, dropping his head back into his arms.

“I didn’t know she offered you a job.” Aemond looked at you from the side, brows pulling slightly.

Why did you feel a slight stab guilt in not telling him?

But how could you have?

It had been a whirlwind since she spoke to you.

The offer.

Aemond returning.

Your spat.

Your make up.

Viserys’ death.

It didn’t seem like the right thing to bring up at that time, and if you were being truly honest, you hadn’t even thought of it since his arrival.

“I didn’t have the chance to tell you with everything that’s happened.”

Aemond hummed, and so you continued, turning to face Helaena, “I think so. I need to give it a proper thought when I get home though.” 

Helaena nodded at you, “I’ll speak to Cole after breakfast.” She promised, and resumed her eating.

You thanked her with a smile before doing the same.

“You should take it.”

His words came as a surprise.

You placed your fork back onto the plate as you looked at the man at your side. His face was honest and open, there wasn’t a sneer or grimace, or even the straight line that his lips did when he was upset. 

He was being genuine.

You brows twitched as you wordlessly urged him to continue.

“My sister, despite everything, is a hard worker. She’ll look after you and make sure you’re taken care of. Besides, her firm is likely more your style anyway.”

“What do you mean by that?” You probed casually, trying to hide your real intrigue behind another piece of fruit in your mouth.

“More…” Aemond thought for a second, and then it came with a cheeky smirk, “Woman led.”

-

Helaena stayed true to her word and had Cole come to take you home, or at least, back to the private runway where that sleek jet picked you up once again.

You said your goodbyes to all, giving everyone a tight squeeze, especially Alicent Hightower, who you thanked for her endless generosity in having you there at such a tough time. 

However, you wouldn’t be going home alone. Aemond was coming with you, citing the need to be with you, and the need to get away from a place he hated.

When you moved to say your goodbyes to your best friend, you asked her when she would be back with you, mind wondering when you would need to part ways with Aemond's presence. 

“I’m going to stay here for the next month." She told you, "I’ve already emailed uni.”

“The next month?” You felt sadness in your chest. Another month without your best friend.

You were going to miss her.

“Yeah,” She kicked at the gravel at her feet, “Mum needs me here for the solicitors and the Will and Testimony reading.”

“Oh? Are you going to be okay?”

Helaena pulled you in for a hug and whispered into your ear, “I’m going to be taken away in a straight jacket by the end of this.” Before pulling back to smile again, cheekier this time, “Besides, I’m sure Aemond will keep you company.”

His smooth voice came from beside you, “I have no plans on leaving.”

The flight home was quick with his company, and on more than one occasion, you had to swat his hands away from you as he whispered the chance of joining the mile high club in his mothers jet.

-

It felt good to be home as you stepped through the front door, dropping your keys in the empty bowl, followed by the sound of Aemond dropping his in beside it.

It made you smile, the familiar scent of your apartment, the soft glow of light, it's tidiness perfect for your arrival home. You turned back, grin tugging on your lips to look at the man behind you, only to see him looking at you hungrily.

You continued forward, butterflied erupting in your stomach as you felt the warmth of his gaze behind you. You dropped your bags in the lounge room and stretched your arms up high, the day dress you were wearing sliding up your thighs.

Aemond watched you with a hooded eye, and the heat you had felt that morning came back tenfold.

And then you remembered.

“You didn’t make do on your promise.” You smirked.

Aemond raised a brow at you as he dropped his bags next to yours, hands flexing at his side, urging you to elaborate.

“You said you’d give me what I want after breakfast." You purred, "It’s past lunch.”

The silver haired man’s lip twitched as he looked at you, tongue in cheek, “Look whose gotten all bratty the moment we get home.”

Home.

The word sent heat straight to your core.

“Not my fault you're a liar.” You teased back, feeling confident to push him now that you knew where you stood. Now that you were home, away from his family, away from it all. It was now just the two of you.

You and him.

“A liar?”

“Uh huh.”

“Did I say when I would?”

You brows furrowed, “After breakfast.”

“And is lunch not after breakfast?”

Your eyes narrowed at him.

“Dick.”

Aemond’s demeanour changed entirely, posture straightening which gave him an extra inch of height. He looked down his nose at you as he watched you take a smirking step back, “Come here.”

You had to push down the flurry of excitement that almost unleashed a giggle into the room, “Make me.”

Your chest rose and fell sharply as you watched Aemond take a slow step towards you, and then another.

“Last chance, baby. Come here.”

"No."

Spinning on your heel you ran towards your room, Aemond's boots beating on the floorboards behind you coming closer. Hands wrapped around your waist and pulled you up, squeal erupting from your chest as you tried to wriggle out of his grip.

“That was very naughty of you.” His voice whispered hoarsely at your ear from behind, hot breath fanning down your neck.

You stifled a whimper as his fingers dug into your skin before he threw you down onto the bed, face first. Your hands flew outwards, catching yourself as your hips hit the end of the bed. Aemond was on you in an instant, pawing at your dress as he ripped it off of you.

“This what you want, huh? Want me to put you in your place? Little brat.”

Your hands moved behind you to tried to slap his arms as he yanked your panties down your legs in one long swoop. Aemond tutted from behind you as he kicked your legs apart, your lip caught in your teeth as you tried not to whimper.

“Look at you. Already soaked. Such a dirty little slut, aren’t you?”

His hand cast down onto the flesh of your ass and you cried out, back arching as the delicious sting spread through your skin. He pulled your cheeks apart roughly and spat onto your dripping entrance.

“Filthy little fuck hole.” Aemond growled, and you mewled as you felt his spit run between your thighs and drip down onto the floor below. 

His fingers smeared his spit into your folds, parting them easily as he looked down at you and cooed, your head craning back to watch him as he chuckled darkly, “What am I going to do with you, hm? You want me to fuck this pretty little pussy, baby?”

Your legs tried to shut so that you could apply pressure with the squeezing of your thighs, but Aemond's legs were in the way, preventing you from getting any release of the tingling that spread through your aching centre. 

“Please.” You murmured, pouting at him the best you could in the hopes that it would entice him to take you right then and there.

Another chuckle rumbled in his chest as he let one long finger circle around your entrance, the tip of it just barely pushing inside before it came back out again, teasing you.

“I don’t think you deserve it.” He hummed.

“Please, Aemond.”

“Not my name, sweetheart.”

A shiver ran down your spine, your eyes sliding shut, “Please daddy.”

The warmth from his body disappeared as he stepped back, your eyes opening to find him looking down at you with a stern face. Your heart raced in your chest, his height towering over you, dominance dripping from his every fibre of his being.

“Kneel.” 

Gods be good.

Your eyes widened as you stared at him, his hands coming to undo his belt buckle slowly, watching as you didn’t move. He pulled the belt slowly from the loops, to soft flipp loud in the room. The belt dropped to the floor with a thud.

“I said,” Aemond moved quicker than you could react, grabbing a fist full of your hair and dragging you off of the bed onto your knees, “Kneel.”

The wooden floor bit into the skin on your knees sharply, but it was dull in comparison to the sheer desire to be ravaged by the man in front of you. 

Long fingers slowly dragged down the zipper of his pants, opening it with languid movements as he kept his eye completely and utterly upon your face. 

“Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You watched as he pulled his hard length from his briefs, running his fist from base to top slowly, the tip leaking a drop of precum that he smeared down his shaft.

Aemond hummed, “What? Can’t talk now?”

You shook your head defiantly as he took a step closer, “I’m going to ask you one last time,” His voice grew deeper, darker, and it added to the slick that was settling in the crux of your thighs, “Were you being bratty to get a reaction?”

You shook your head. 

No.

Liar.

Aemond clicked his tongue at you in disappointment before sighing loudly, “Thought you’d say that. I’ve got a better use for that mouth of yours.” One hand in your hair, he tugged you forward, “Open.”

You don’t know what it was about this man, or what he did to you to make you the way you were with him. The way he absolutely ruined every inch of your mind and thoughts, the urge to both please him and defy him coursing through you all at once, but you wouldn’t give in. No, you needed him to react, you needed him to take what he wanted from you with force. 

So biting the insides of your cheeks to keep you from smiling, you defiantly kept your mouth shut as you looked up at him from your knees.

The corner of his lip twitched as he hummed at you.

The sting across your cheek came quickly and stunned you enough to open your mouth in a gasp, exactly as he had planned when he slapped you. He grabbed your jaw with the entirety of his hand and squeezed at the joint meanly, mouth falling open further in pain. 

Aemond slid his cock straight into your open lips, his heady weight sitting upon your tongue as he looked down at you, still holding the base with one hand, your jaw in the other.

“There you go. Far more useful with my cock in your mouth.” He grunted, pulling out slowly as you curled your tongue upwards, running it along the underside of his shaft, pressing into the long vein that travelled along it.

Aemond began to thrust into the back of your throat, letting go of the base so that the whole length of him would slide into your mouth. His cock was salty on your tongue, hot, swollen, and heavy in your mouth as he forced you to take him as deep as it would go. 

You gagged on his length, eyes watering as you shut them tightly.

Two little slaps on your cheek made your eyes open back up, staring at him as he looked down at you, “Eyes on me while I fuck this pretty little mouth of yours.”

You moaned around his length, thighs rubbing together in an attempt to relieve the tension that was building between them. But it was fruitless. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what you needed, and what you needed was his fingers, his tongue, or his cock inside of you.

The silver haired man thrusted into your mouth the way he would into your cunt, deep, long and hard, his tip beating against the back of your throat as he used you for his own pleasure.

It was exhilarating, intoxicating, and exactly what you had wanted.

You wanted him to use you like this, to get it all out, to get out all the tension that had been hovering over him the minute he stepped into the Keep.

He needed this just as much as you did.

A thick line of saliva ran down your chin, dripping onto your thighs below as both hands wrapped around the sides and back of your skull, dragging your head up and down his length roughly. His brow was furrowed as he watched, mouth agape as he breathed shallowly and grunted.

“Look at you," He cooed down at you, "Just a hole for me to fuck. Just a little slut begging for daddy’s cock, isn’t that right?”

You hummed around his length, sucking your cheeks inwards as much as you could. Aemond hissed at the pressure, eye sliding shut momentarily as his hips stuttered.

It was a glorious sight.

You below him, looking up as his head was thrown back, ecstasy breaking out on his features as his pearly hair cascaded around his shoulders.

Your head was pulled away, length slipping from your lips as you gasped for air, a line of spit connecting you to his tip as he cooed at you.

“Open.”

You opened your mouth wider, tongue poking out for him. His cheeks hollowed and then Aemond spat onto your tongue, its warmth spreading from your mouth, all the way through your body.

You moved to shut your mouth to swallow for him like you thought he wanted, but he stopped you with a finger, pressing down on your tongue as he smeared his spit along the wet, pink muscle messily.

With little care, two fingers slid down to the back of your throat as he looked at you, your mouth still open waiting for a command. Aemond slowly fucked your throat with his fingers, grinning at the small gags that he elicited from the action, before pulling his fingers from your mouth, smearing his spit and yours across your face, the wetness sticking to your heated cheeks.

“Such a messy girl. So dirty.” He purred, lining his cock back up to your mouth which you took with ease, except this time, Aemond didn’t fuck your throat. 

He slid his length all the way down your throat, cock pressing into your gag reflex and blocking off your air. Your nose met his pelvis as he looked down at you, shaking your head slightly side to side on his length. 

“Hold it.” He growled, watching as a tear ran down your cheek as you tried to not cough or splutter on his length, chest heaving as you gagged, no air being able to pass through your nose.

Your head grew dizzy as you looked at him, lungs beginning to burn, but still he didn’t let you pull back. Holding you down onto him by the back of your head.

Your hands flew to his thighs for grip as you tried to pull away, but Aemond kept his cock nestled deeply in your throat. 

“You can do it, pretty girl." He told you, "Five more seconds.”

Another tear slid down your cheek, the weight of him in your throat making your core flutter around nothing. 

“Five.” He began to count down, watching as you squirmed below him.

“Four.” Your nails dug into his flesh harshly as you tried to keep on him, throat swallowing around him tightly in reflex, causing a shiver to roll through his body.

“Three.”

“Two.” He grunted, pulling you down harder on his length causing more tears to fall from your eyes.

“One.”

Aemond pulled you off his length, your lungs burning as you gasped in a lungful of air, spluttering and coughing at his feet. 

“Good girl.” He praised, wiping the tears from your cheeks that had left wet tracks down your face.

You coughed softly, throat aching and head spinning, feeling embarrassed and aroused all in one. The head rush from lack of air was almost as intense as the head rush you got from your desire.

“Open.”

You licked your lips and swallowed doing as you were told, feeling Aemond slide his cock slowly into the back of your throat again, but this time, you inhaled a large lungful of air in preparation. He pulled your head down all the way, nose nestled into the hair at his base as he looked down at you.

“Good girl, baby. Look at you.” You moaned around his length, feeling tears in your eyes again as he nudged your gag reflex.

“Hold it.” His voice cracked, watching a tear slide down your cheek as he brushed hair away from your forehead gently, “You're going to hold it for ten this time.”

Ten.

Oh shit.

You didn't know if you could.

But you wanted to please him.

You wanted to be good for him.

“Ten.” Aemond began to count down again, pushing his hips slightly forward, making his cock go even deeper than you thought it could, throat bulging slightly from his length, your eyes widening as you squirmed below.

“Nine.” 

“Eight.”

“Seven.” Your core clenched as he counted, watching through blurry eyes as he looked at you on your knees before him.

“S-ix.” He moaned, eye sliding shut as he felt your throat closing around him as your body tried to swallow the blockage that was his cock.

“Five.”

The room spun slightly and you began to shift below him, brain controlling you as it tried to pull you away to get air into your lungs instinctually. 

“Four." Heat rose in your cheeks as you squirmed, head trying to move backwards from his grip.

"Stay still." He growled down at you. Despite his command, you still wriggled, slick sliding between your thighs as it began to drip down onto the floor below.

“Almost there, baby. Three.”

Your arms tried to push yourself back, pure instinct taking over, your hands on his thighs, vision in the corner of your eyes going dark. 

Was he purposely counting slow?

Oh Gods.

He was.

“Two.”

You were almost there. Your fingers fisted against his thighs, and despite his face being blurred by your tears above, you couldn’t help but notice the sadistic smile that pulled at his sharp lips.

“Two and three quarters.”

Dick.

Your eyes narrowed at him, causing the man to chuckle.

“One.”

You ripped yourself away with a gasp, falling backwards onto your bum as you coughed and spluttered, drool hanging from your lips as you tried to steady your breathing. 

Aemond knelt in front of you, swiping up the spit on your chin, “Good girl. Such a good girl for me - You did so well.” You keened at his praise, leaning into his hand.

Aemond helped you to stand, pulling you over onto the bed as he stripped himself bare, watching as you still fought to catch your breath, devouring him with lust filled eyes and swollen lips.

“Let's see how wet you are from me using your mouth like that, hm?”

You parted your legs on instinct, giving him view of your glistening folds.

Aemond inhaled sharply, “Look how fucking wet you are. You're dripping all over the bed.”

You nodded your head dumbly, brain feeling light as a feather. You didn’t know if it was from the lack of previous airflow, or if it was the way he was treating you, slowly sinking you down into the comfortable little space you loved to float in with him.

“Are you all dumb, baby?” He meanly cooed at you with a sadistic pout, stroking the hair atop your head.

You nodded again as he chuckled at you, running his fingers through your slick folds, the sound of him parting them obscenely wet.

“Just from being daddy’s little fuck hole?”

You moaned, pushing your centre into his hand as he swirled a digit around your swollen clit, sparks of pleasure flying up inside of you. His finger dipped inside of you, immediately crooking upwards into the spot you needed it most. 

“Look at this needy little pussy sucking me in. Do you need daddy to help you?”

You moaned at him, thrusting your hips downwards onto his hand as he added another finger, beginning to fuck them inside of you.

“Use your words.”

It took whatever remaining braincell that was left inside your head to string together one measly word, “Please.”

Aemond smirked, “Please what, little dummy.”

You whined, shutting your eyes as heat flooded your cheeks.

“Come on. Use your big girl words or you won’t get anything.”

“Please, daddy. P-please fuck me.”

Aemond smiled victoriously, kissing a tear that was drying against your cheek, “There we go. That must have been real hard when you're all dumb, wasn’t it?

You whined at his teasing, and then again when he removed his fingers.

“Shh.” He hushed you, “Daddy’s going to give you just what you need.”

And he did.

Aemond slid into you immediately, aided by how wet and open you were for him. He sighed into the crook of your neck, your legs immediately wrapping around him as he began to fuck into you, slowly building up the pace. 

Your breasts bounced with each thrust, his hips snapping into your own as pleasure bloomed within. You moaned and cried beneath him, his pelvis rubbing against your swollen bud with each deep and rough thrust he gave you.

“You gonna cum already? I can feel you gripping me.” He huffed, watching his length disappear into your folds.

“Please.” You wailed, hands gripping the sheets beside you tightly in your fists as you begged him with your eyes.

Aemond took pity on you and slid a hand down to your pearl, rolling it in time with his thrusts, “Come on then. Cum on my cock.”

It took four sharp thrusts before your eyes screwed shut, stars appearing behind them as you came with an earth shattering cry. Aemond fucked you through it, hips and hand not once still until you were a sobbing and slick mess beneath him.

“Fucked the brat right out of you, didn’t I? Pretty little baby.” He moaned, rutting into your centre as the sound of your arousal surrounded you, the hair at the base of his cock soaked with your release, “Just needed me to fuck you stupid, didn’t you?”

You couldn’t form any words, mouth hanging open as little whines and pants flittered off of your tongue. It was overwhelming, and the pleasure of your first peak was yet to settle, bliss sizzling and burning within your gut in a way that continued to mount as he kept rubbing your pearl. 

It was almost painful.

“Give me another.” Aemond grunted, pressing his fingers against you again harder, watching as you tried to shift your hips and escape his circling digits. 

But it was no use, and Aemond ripped yet another peak from you with precision, your head lulling to the side tiredly as your body was thrust up the bed with his hips. You laid limply beneath him as he continued to fuck you, lip pulled into your mouth by your teeth as you whimpered.

“Fuck.” He gritted out through his teeth, hand releasing your clit out of mercy as he gripped your hips tightly in both hands, fucking into you harder and faster than before, beating the air from your lungs with each thrust.

“Gonna fill up this little pussy.” He moaned, watching as your brows pulled together, walls fluttering around his length.

“You want me to fill this pretty pussy with my cum? Want me to fill you up?”

You nodded your head, tear leaking from the corner of your eye as he continued to rut into you rapidly, hands leaving your hips to wrap around your throat, squeezing the sides to prevent the blood flow to your head whilst allowing for air, amplifying your pleasure and making you float even further.

“Gonna cum in your cunt.” He moaned, using the grip on your neck to pull your weight down onto his cock, spearing you open with each thrust.

It was too much.

It was-

Oh Gods-

You were-

Your brain went blank as ecstasy shot through it, scrambling any thought that you had. You heard his cry as he came deep within you, his warmth filling you up, but there was a second wetness that you noticed, that soaked the sheets below you.

It took a while to come back down to yourself, held in Aemond’s arms as he brushed gentle hands over you, holding you to him. You felt warm, safe, and completely and utterly exhausted. You shifted to look up at him, watching as his eye opened to look down at you.

“Back on earth?” He asked softly, watching as you weakly smiled at him, nuzzling into his bare chest. His chuckle vibrated against your cheek.

“Come on, we got to get you cleaned up.”

You buried your head deeper into his chest, “Don’wanna.”

Lips pressed at the top of your head, “Come on. I need to change the sheets.”

This caught your attention. 

Had you gotten your period?

Were you sweatier than you had thought?

You lifted your head to look at him, to which he gave you a smug little smile.

“You made quite the mess.”

You frowned, embarrassment creeping into your chest.

“Nothing bad.” He reassured you, kissing your forehead, “You ever squirted before?”

Squirted?

“As much as I love watching your mind turn and work, I’m lying in your wet patch.” He chuckled, shifting to lift you out of the bed. 

Low and behold, there it was.

A large wet patch below Aemond that spread out against your sheets, proof of your pleasure and the peaks that Aemond took you too. And despite having no shame, and being roughly and thoroughly fucked not too long ago, heat still flooded your cheeks at the sight.

After lazing in bed for only an allowed moment more, Aemond helped you to the shower, your legs weak like jelly as he washed you and brushed your hair, taking off your makeup with gentle steady hands that made your heart flutter in your chest.

Ever the gentleman, he popped you on the couch as he changed your sheets, remaking your bed before he put on the load of washing. It was entirely domestic, and watching him as he moved, as he doted. on you, as he fluttered around your space which had irrevocably also became his, it only seemed to make the little part of him that had burrowed into your chest go deeper.

-

You ordered in that evening, getting pizza in a strange reminder of what it had been like when he first moved in. The same pizza order, the same pizza place, the same two spots on the couch as you ate.

The two of you had come a long way since then. A very long way, and in many ways, coming to a place that you would not have thought possible or even to have thought to cross your mind.

You watched his favourite movie in comfortable silence after eating your dinner, before suddenly you remembered something. You jumped up from your spot, hissing slightly at the soreness between your thighs as you ran to retrieve two spoons from the drawer, then opening the freezer door to dig around inside.

Ah.

There it was.

The forgotten tub of ice cream you had carelessly thrown inside when a certain person was in your home.

You held it triumphantly as you walked back to the couch, holding it as you would a prized jewel on show for him. Aemond chuckled at your antics as you pulled the lid clean off, offering him a spoon.

“The first dip, My Lord.” You joked, bowing your head to him.

Aemond huffed a laugh, the pressure of him digging into the tub with his spoon pushed into your wrist. 

“Ñuha Riña.”

The accent sent a pulse straight to your core.

Down girl.

You dipped your spoon in after him, lifting it to your lips, “What does that mean?”

“My Lady." Aemond hummed, returning his attention back to the tv.

You savoured the ice cream, the tub becoming half full in no time as you slowly but surely demolished it together. It felt good to be at his side, to know where you both stood. To know what you both wanted, and for it to not be a secret anymore.

But you still couldn't get your mind to stop thinking about the way his tongue had rolled when speaking High Valyrian.

“Aemond?” You turned your head to look at his profile, watching as his tongue darted out to lick at his spoon.

“Hm?”

“Will you teach me?”

His brows furrowed, “Teach you what?”

“High Valyrian.” You asked him shyly, suddenly feeling like perhaps you shouldn’t have asked him that at all. Maybe he wouldn't want to teach you that. Maybe it was a family thing only.

Was that weird of you to ask?

Would it be a reminder of the tension back at home?

A reminder of his father?

Your swirling thoughts of doubt were cut short as a soft smile spread across his shape cheeks.

“Hen rhinka.” Of course.

“What does that mean?”

“You’ll have to find out, won’t you, ñuha jorrāelagon.”

My love.

-

That night you slept in each others embrace, fresh and warm sheets on the bed, surrounded by his scent. It was no wonder that you drifted off to sleep so easily after the romp you had had earlier, not to mention how tumultuous the days before had been.

Yet when you woke the next morning, you felt refreshed, ready for a new start.

A new day.

A new beginning.

With him.

Aemond wasn’t in bed with you, but rather than feeling any sort of panic or anxiety about his absence, you crawled out of bed and went to where you knew he would be. 

Standing tall, leant against the bench, Aemond sleepily sipped from his coffee in the kitchen as he blew the smoke from his cigarette through the open window. He was clad in only black shorts, his silver hair messy and tangled, and the press of his pillow embedded in his cheek. 

Hearing your approach, he turned to you and smiled. 

Your stomach did flips.

“Morning.”

“Morning.”

The familiar sound of porcelain on the bench scraped in your ear.

There, at the base of his fingers, was your steaming mug of tea. 

You took it gratefully from him with a smile before sidling up to his side, leaning your head against his chest as he wrapped one arm around your shoulders pulling you closer.

“What do you want to do today?” You looked up at him, watching as he smiled down at you.

“Anything you want.”

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[captainlunaxmen]

Dragon's Healer

Chapter 2

Daemyra x Fem!reader

Dark!Aemond x fem!reader

Hello!!! Hope you're having a good day!

Here's the second chapter of my HOTD fic. I changed the age of a few characters, and I definitely took some liberty in some lore things😂 but not so much as to change the story itself. Don't worry. Once again let me know what you think, and if you want to be added to the tag list 😘

Chapter summary: Tensions are present at King's Landing like never before, even the small glimpse of hope might not be enough.

Chapter warnings: character's death (you know who),non consensual touching.

Tag list

@k1ttybean

@tojisrealwifey

@sinarainbows

Aemond smiles at me, and I take a moment to fully observe him. He's taller, that's for sure, his jaw is more defined than I remembered, hair longer too.

"Am I that unrecognisable?" He jests.

"No... well.. yes," I say, completely at loss for words, "I left you a boy and now look at you."

He shyly smiles as he nears, nearly towering over me.

"I heard about your arrival and wanted to say hi myself." He admits, he keeps hid hands behind his back, soldier stance.

"That's nice of you, Aemond." I smile at him and can't help but look at the scar on his face, "did you put those oils like I told you?"

"Of course." He nods.

"That's good to know." I raise a hand to gently touch the scar and check it, "you did good."

He briefly leans into my hand and I take it back immediately.

"Thank you." He says, "I always kept your advices at heart. Like not taking whatever people say about me as truth."

"What do you mean? Did anyone say anything?" I ask, incredulously, "about your scar? That's absurd."

"Called me a monster and all that." He explains, stepping a little closer.

"I do hope you didn't listen to any of it then." I tell him, putting the book I was reading away, to have an excuse to put some distance between us. There's something not right, but I can't quite place it.

"I tried my best," he simply replies, following me, "I kept repeating your words. The ones you used to comfort me after I lost my eye. Do you remember?" He asks, looking closely my reactions, he doesn't wait for an answer to continue, "you told me small people need to make others feel just as small, in order to feel big, because most of the time they're so ashamed they need to make someone else feel just as miserable."

"Glad you kept that in mind." I chuckle, a hint of nerves getting to me from the way he's looking at me.

"I found it." He tells me, out of nowhere, in fact, I can't help the confused look I give him.

"What?" I ask.

"The book you used to read to Haelena." He clarifies, "the one about the meaning of flowers."

"Oh really?" I excitedly smile, "that's amazing. Thank you so much."

"I have it in my chambers, I can give it to you tonight." He tells me, "after supper, father wants to dine as a family apparently."

"Uhm... of course." I say, with a little bit of uncertainty.

"I'm actually finishing an interesting chapter." He specifies.

"It's fine, Aemond." I say, trying to wave away my own worries. I think this whole tension is merely caused by being back here after so much time.

He smiles, I see him opening his mouth to say something, but the noise outside catches our attention.

"The council is starting." He states and hums, "let's hope justice stays strong today."

"Yes..." I mutter.

Something about what he said makes me stop, he's not the boy I once knew.

Without saying a word I walk out, him close behind.

"Do you promise?" I hear him ask.

"Promise?"

"To meet me here tonight..." he says, eyes hopeful.

"O-of course." I force a smile, and once he smiles too, satisfied, I head to the throne room with other nobles.

I'm quick to lose Aemond as I look for Rhaenyra and Daemon, and I find them upfront with their sons.

"Toon you long enough." Daemon whispers as I stand behind them, with Jace and Luke.

"I was in the library, have mercy." I tease him, after I see his smirk I turn to Rhaenyra, "are you okay?"

"I'll be." She shortly answers.

I deeply sigh, I catch with the corner of my eye the nervous stance of Luke beside his mother, so I give his arm a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't be nervous, Luke. Don't show them they have any power over you." I softly say, he doesn't answer, but I know he heard me and is trying. "And you," I turn to Jace, "keep the fury at bay, uh?"

He gives me an annoyed but understanding look, lets out a puff of breath and straightens his shoulder.

The chatter quickly dies down as Otto Hightower starts to speak.

"Though ot is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with withe succession od Driftmark. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." He sits on the throne, " the crown will now hear the petitions."

"Hope he's comfortable." I mutter, hearning a grin from Daemon.

"Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon." Otto announes and Vaemond immediately takes stand in the middle, after sending a glare in our direction.

"My Queen, "he greets Alicent, "my Lord Hand, the history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has tuled the seas. When the doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end of their bloodlines and their name." I see Daemon giving Rhaenyra a look and her nodding, "I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys' closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." Rhaenyra interferes, I mutter her name in warning, "if you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition."

"You will have chance to make your own petition, princess Rhaenyra." Alicent stops her, scolding her almost, "do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

That's when Vaemond turns around to smirk in Rhaenyra's direction.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, princess?" He asks, "I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognise it."

"Cut deep, please." I can't hold myself, it's a whisper and I don't think he heard me, if he did he didn't show.

"This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours." He finishes with a look at Luke that I didn't like one bit. If he needs any help in showing his blood I'd gladly help, " my Queen, my Lord Hand." he continues, "this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor. The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond." Otto says and Vaemond goes back to his place, "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

Rhaenyra, with quite a defeated face, takes stand in the middle too.

"If I am to garce this farce with some answers, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very..."

She can't continue due to the doors suddenly being opened. All eyes are on the sudden interruption.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the first of his name, king of the Andals and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kindoms, and protector of the Realm." The guard announces.

Hope fills my heart as I watch the king walking to his throne, I quick take a look around seeing the surprise on Otto and Alicent's faces. Vaemond is almost scared to see him, he looks at Otto for answers, but he got nothing.

I share a look with Daemon, to reassure him.

"I will sit the throne today." Viserys breathes out to Otto who can't to anything but nod his head.

The King is visibly weak, but he send the guard away, not wanting their help. He makes his way to the throne, with difficulty, he's leaning on his cane for support. When the crown falls and clatters, I see Daemon walking to his brother, retrieving the gold on the ground.

"I said I'm fine." Viserys says before seeing it's Daemon helping him, so he allows it. Daemon after helping his brother to the throne, puts the crown on his head then walks back to us.

"I must... admit... my confusion." He starts, taking back his king stance, " I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession. The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Corlys Velaryon's wishes is the Princesa Rhaenys."

All eyes set on her.

"Indeed, your grace." She confidently nods and takes place in the middle of the room like Vaemond and Rhaenyra did, "it was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son, Lucerys Velaryon, his mind never changed. Nor did my support of him." As Rhaenys speaks I feel relieved, almost tension melting away. "As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree."

I smile at Luke and Jace, finally seeing they're a little more relaxed, Luke for sure, I can see him breath again.

"Well..." the king starts, "the matter is settled. Again." He's almost bored, understandable, "I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

"You'd be wonderful, Luke." I assure him, as Rhaenya goes back next to Baela.

"Ypu break law..." apparently Vaemond still has something to say, "and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it."

"Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond." Viserys warns him.

There's a pause, Vaemond almost shaking with rage.

"That is no true Velaryon," he shouts pointing at Luke, "and certainly no nephew of mine."

"You had your turn, ser Vaemond." I say out loud this time, Vaemond glares at me.

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you.. are no more than a second son of Driftmark." The king reminds him for his place.

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And gods be damned... "he turn to look straight at Luke, "I will not see it ended on the account of this..." he holds himself back.

"Say it." Daemon encourages him.

There's a long tense pause, Vaemond grins almost as he looks at Rhaenyra.

"Her children..." he starts," are bastards!" He shouts, "and she... is... a whore."

The nobles in the room gasps, I put a hand on Jace shoulder to keep him calm, and squeeze Luke's hand.

Viserys stands, weakly, but he stands up and draws out his dagger.

"I... will have your tongue for that." He threatens.

But Daemon is quicker and as soon as Viserys finishes his sentence, Daemon slices Vaemond's head, making everyone either scream or gasp.

Daemon casually leans on his sword looking down at the body.

"He can keep his tongue." He says.

"Disarm him!" Otto orders.

"No need." Daemon calmly says, cleaning his sword and walking back to Rhaenyra's side.

Viserys groans in pain probably.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent orders.

"Father?" Rhaenyra wants to walk to him,but stops before the stairs, she looks at me, silently telling me to check on him myself.

I make my way to Alicent holding the King with the guards help.

"Let me help, Alicent." I almost plead.

"The maesters help him just fine, we managed without you this whole time." She waves me off as she lets the guard take him to his chambers.

I helplessly look at them go, and send an apologetic look at Rhaenyra, she shakes her head to let me know it's not my fault, but her worried face remained.

--------------

"You asked for me, princess?" I ask as I join Princess Rhaenys at one of the balconies looking at the sea.

"Yes, my lady," she nods, "I wanted to ask you something and I need you to be honest with me."

"Me?"

"You're the only person who can clarify my doubts at the moment." She answers me.

"If I can be of help, princess, ask." I say, getting a little nervous.

"Did the princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon take any part in my son's death?" She looks straight into my eyes as she asks.

I take a moment, never braking eye contact, I can't decipher what she might think. I do know everyone thinks they killed Laenor, maybe she does too, but the question...

"I know Daemon might be reckless, and enjoys killing, you know him too. Yet, he's never been one to kill so lightly as everyone think, and Rhaenyra's wish for peace doesn't agree with such hypothesis. Don't you think?" I answer.

"You love them?" That question makes me lower my eyes, "I can see it. And I want to believe a soul like yours wouldn't fall for ill ones."

"I want to believe so too, princess." I look up at her again, seeing her soft and sad smile, "my best wishes to Lord Corlys' recovery. I do have a feeling he's too stubborn to leave us all like this."

That makes her smile a little more.

"Thank you, lady Y/n." She bows lightly and I do too, leaving her on the balcony.

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I enter Rhaenyra and Daemon's chambers hoping they haven't left for supper yet.

"Where were you?" Daemon asks, fixing himself.

"Princess Rhaenys asked for me." I answer.

"Why?"

"She just wanted a clarification." I smile at him, "nothing to worry about."

"We thought you already headed for supper." Rhaenyra tells me.

"It's for the family why woul-"

"You're family too." She comes closer to hold my hands, "my father considers you like a daughter."

"After all this time.. I mean... I'm just your lady-" I try to say but her lips on mine stop me.

"You're more than that, and you know it. Stop your thoughts." She smiles.

"Are you sure he wants me there?" I ask, nervous.

"You're more than welcome at that table." She assures me.

"Besides... I'm not leaving you here on your own, I saw the guards sending you looks today." Daemon comes beside us, a possessive hand find its way to my waist.

"No guard was looking at me, Daemon." I roll my eyes.

"Oh yes, they were." He fully wraps his arms around me, "can't blame them, though."

I look at Rhaenyra for support, but she just smiles rolling her eyes and goes to the vanity to put her earrings on.

"Are you satisfied with the cutting?" I ask him, as he holds me to him.

"Very." He leans down to kiss my forehead, then before I could say anything more he kisses me deeply.

"Behave, we don't want to be late." Rhaenyra tells us, well, more to Daemon than me.

"I haven't kissed her in so long, let me enjoy her for a moment." He complains and leans down again to kiss me, but I turn my head, not that it prevents him to put his lips on me in any way.

"She's right." I say and he groans, complaining, "we don't want to be late."

"Don't we?" He asks against my skin.

"No." Rhaenyra smiles, but she's stern in her answer.

"Fine." He says, kissing my neck one last time, "but after supper," he takes my chin in his hand, "all mine." He winks.

"Let's go, my loves." Rhaenyra calls us, and takes my hand as we together head to the dining room.

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There definitely tension in the room, despite the chatter. Chatter coming from the young ones, because at the table Rhaenyra and Alice don't say a word to each other, it's like they're keeping and eye on the other but without even looking.

I stand beside my seat, next to Luke by the head of the table, talking to the girls, when the doors open and the king enters and takes his place in the middle, between his daughter and his wife.

"How doo it is... to see you all tonight... together." He starts, I can see this really makes him happy.

"Pray before we begin?" Alicent asks and once Viserys agrees she starts, "may the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mwnd the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest."

At that Daemon rolls his eyes and I send him a look to tell him to behave.

"This is an occasion for celebration, it seems." Viserys declares, "my grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses. A toast to the young princes... and their betrothed." He offers.

"Hear hear!"

And everyone raises their glasses, I smile at Luke and Rhaena, who are closer to me. I slightly see the glare Baela send to Aegon, but I can't tell why.

"Let us toast as well Prince Lucerys... the future Lord of the Tides."

"You'll be great." Rhaena tells him, after seeing the slightly flustered face of his betrothed, and I gently nudge him.

My eyes find their way on my left, Baela having the same glare as before, and this time I see clearly Aegon whispering something to Jace.

"He's not worth it, my dear." I whisper to her, and she lets out a big annoyed breath.

Thankfully, Viserys standing makes everyone silent, he looks at everyone at the table.

"It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world... yet grown so distant from each other... int he years past." He speaks, breathes with difficulty. He then removes the mask on his face revealing his almost rotten side, "my own face... is no longer a handsome one... if indeed it ever was. But tonight... I wish you to see me.. as I am. Not just a king, but your father. Your brother. Your husband... and your grand sire. Who may not, it seems...walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hols ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown... then for the sake on this old man who loves you all so dearly." His voice breaks and my heart follows, he does care about the house being one.

He weakly sits again with a groan and Rhaenyra stands up, golding her glass.

"I wish to raise my cup to her Grace, the Queen." She declares, Alicent looks up at her a mix of surprise and confusion on her face, "I love my father. But I must admit that no one has stood... more loyally by his side than his good wife. She has tended to him with... unfailing devotion, love and honor. And for that, she has my gratitude... and my apology." As she sits back down I genuinely smile at her.

I look at Alicent, who looks speechless, she definitely didn't expect Rhaenyra to say such things to her.

"Your graciousness moves me deeply, princess." She says, uncertain, but with honesty, "we're both mothers... and we love our children. We have more in common than we sometimes allow." She stands as well with her own glass, "I raise my cup to you... and to your house." She takes a breath, "you'll make a fine queen."

I can't hold the smile on my face, Rhaenyra softly smiles too. It might've never seemed like it, but hearing Alicent's support now means a lot to her. Everyone raises their cups and drinks.

I send Alicent a grateful look and she kindly smiles in return.

Aegon stands up, wanting to fill his glass again, but it's clear he looked for an excuse to get to Baela, so I keep my attention on him.

"I, um..." he starts whispering, filling his glass, "I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask." He 'offers', making Jace hit the table harshly and stand up.

"Jace." Baela calls softly.

Aemond too stands and they stare at each other, a hint of a challenge flashes in Aemond's eye.

Jace then grabs his glasses ans raises it.

"To Prince Aegon and... Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family's good health, dear uncles."

"Well done, my boy" Viserys proudly smiles at him.

"I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena," Haelena stands too, which warms my heart, "they'll be married soon. It isn't so bad. Mostly, he just ignores you... except sometimes when he's drunk." She says, and that earns some laughs around the table, then she sits down.

I decide it's my turn to say something so I stand up with my own glass.

"I guess I'll say something too, if you let me." I say, and once Viserys nods his head, I continue, "I owe so much to this family, I probably wouldn't even be alive if it weren't for your kindness, my King. I want to raise my glass to you and all of your house, as thank you for letting me be a part of this family, may the gods protect you all." And I sit back down, Rhaenyra smiles at me fondly. Viserys nods, and a soft smile makes its way on his pained face.

"Let us have some music." Viserys says, and immediately a lively tune can be heard in the room.

Jace stands and goes to ask Haelena for a dance, and as they dance and maids bring more food and wine, the chatter at the table starts, laughter too. I chat with Rhaena, and Luke and Baela chimes in every now and then.

After a while, the guards are called to bring the king away. He's probably too weak to even stay up so much, I let out a shaky breath, feeling helpless.

"I'm afraid there's not much more to be done, don't trouble yourself." Baela soft says to me, noticing my powerless expression, I nod, understanding her words, but still feeling bad, I couldn't be of help.

Suddenly there a bang in the table and the music stops.

We all look up to Aemond standing and harshly grabing his glass.

"Final tribute." he declares, I don't know exactly why, but there's tension in the room again all of a sudden,"to the health of my nephews: Jace... Luke... and Jeoffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... hm... strong."

"Aemond." Alicent says his name as a warning, but he ignores her.

"Come... let us drain our cups to these three...strong boys."

"I dare you to say that again." Jace loudly challenges.

"Why? 'Twas only a compliment." He walks towards him, Luke stands too, "do you not think yourself strong?"

Jace punches Aemond as Aegon grabs Luke, preventing him from getting near them.

We all stand up, Baela's temper can't take it anymore and needs to be held back by Rhaena. Aemond pushes Jace to the ground, and before Jace tries to attack him again, a guard seizes him and Luke too.

"It's okay, calm down." I stand close to Baela and Rhaena, helping her calming her sister.

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?" I hear Alicent ask her son.

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family mother. Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

I go stand with Rhaenyra, as Jace manages to wiggle free from the guard.

Fortunately, Daemon stops him.

"Wait, wait." He tells him, making him back away.

"Go to your quarters. All of you go, now." Rhaenyra tells them all.

I sigh, disappointed, I shake my head, looking at Aemond.

Daemon stands behind her, in front of Aemond, then when he leaves, too, Daemon walks the young ones out.

"Rhaenyra." Alicent calls, and the Princess hold my hand, to make me stay.

"It's beat, I think, if we go back to Dragonstone." She sighs.

"You've only just arrived." Alicent takes her hamd gently, "you both."

"Lete see the children home." She starts, "I'll, um... return on dragon back."

"The king and I would both like that." The queen nods, "You as well... I hope." She adds, looking at me.

"I... I could stay here and wait for her." I say to Alicent, nodding to Rhaenyra, who smiles at me.

"That would be nice, my lady." She smiles and bow my head slightly before walking put with Rhaenyra.

"Do you feel alright in riding Syrax in your condition?" I ask her as we walk.

"I'm more than fine, don't worry about me." She assures me, "Are you sure to stay here?"

"I am, princess." I assure her as well.

"Promise to tell me if anything happens." She says, squeezing my hand.

"Of course."

--------------

I'm helping Rhaenyra brush her hair, and Daemon is taking off his boots when we hear a knock on the doors.

The maid opens it and a guard makes his way inside.

"Apologies for the intrusion, princess. I was sent here to fetch lady Y/n." He explains.

"And why's that?" Daemon stands, ready to rush to his sword.

"Prince Aemond asked for her presence in the library." He replies, getting a little nervous after seeing Daemon's reaction.

"Oh, thanks, I almost forgot." I say.

"Forgot what?" Daemon immediately asks.

"I'll be there shortly." I nod to the guard, who nods and walks out of the room, after bowing to the couple.

"Forgot what?" Daemon repeats the question, more sternly.

"I promised him I would've met him in the library after supper. He found a book I was looking for for ages, and he wants to give it back to me." I explain, simply.

"Yes, I know what he wants to give to you." He mutters under his breath.

"Daemon." Rhaenyra scolds him.

"What? Haven't you seen how he looked at her at that table?" Daemon's shocked.

"Gods..." I sigh, "he wasn't looking at me in any way, Daemon."

"Yes, he was." He insists.

"Like what then?" I question.

He moves towards me until he's towering over me, taking my chin and making me look up at him.

"Like I look at you before I grab you and throw you on the bed, my love." He tells me, making my face heat up.

"Don't..." I warn him.

"I like seeing you flustered like this." He smirks, leaning closer.

"You enjoy torturing her. It's different." Rhaenyra's amusement is clear as she speaks.

"I do." He admits, proudly. "That's why I recognise when someone is looking at what's mine."

"He wasn't." I insist

"He was."

"He was not." I tell him, "really. Now let me go. The sooner I retrieve the book, the sooner I'll be back." I manage to put some space between us and grab my shoes.

"I'm not letting you go to him alone." He sternly tells me.

"It's just Aemond." I remind him, "I cared for him a lot when he was younger."

"Yes, but he's not a child anymore. He's twenty, isn't he?" He pretends to wonder, "he has one thing in mind."

"Don't be ridiculous." I sigh. "Listen, I'll be quick, alright? Stop worrying. Rhae, help."

"She's capable of defending herself, my love." She supports me, "and she's right. The sooner she goes, the sooner she's back into our arms."

Daemon sighs deeply, not agreeing one bit, but recognises he's being outnumbered.

"Fine. But be quick."

"Of course." I give him a kiss, "Do not worry." I go kiss Rhaenyra and walk out towards the library.

I follow the guard to the library, softly thanking him as he lets me in.

"Aemond?" I call, and once I hear his voice, I follow it until I find him, standing by a table casually reading the book, a hand behind his back."There you are."

He looks up to me and smiles.

"I know it's late, my apologies for that, my lady." He says.

"It's fine, Aemond, do not worry." I assure him, I look at the book, "was it interesting?"

"Very." He nods, "I particularly enjoyed the chapter about the secret messages."

I walk cautiously closer, more so I can grab the book rather than to him.

"Oh, yes, apparently in Old Valyria, they used flowers and plants to send messages instead of ravens." I say, looking at the page Aemond was reading a few moments ago, "ah, yes, they used them also so propose marriage, to express their deepest love to one another."

I can sense him moving around me, I try to ignore the creeps down my spine as I feel him closer.

"They used dahlias to propose, didn't they?" He asks. There's something in his voice that makes me tense.

"Yes... um... yes, they did." I nod, controlling my voice so he doesn't see my nerves.

"Like this one?" He asks, and a dahlia appears in front of me.

"Oh! Where did you find it? I thought they couldn't grow here." I wonder, still not taking the flower.

"I had them plant them," he starts as he gets even closer, almost against me, "once I read that chapter, I had them plant tons of these. It's for you... from me."

I immediately turn around, and take a few steps away from him.

"Excuse me?" I ask.

"Marry me." He tells me.

"Aemond... uh... why?" I ask again.

"The flower speaks for it, doesn't it?" He gets closer, not caring that I'm backing away.

"I'm too old for you." I make him reason.

"Not true, you're perfect." He shakes his head. He's quicker than me and stands in front of me again, forcing me to back up against the bookshelves.

"Aemond... listen..."

"Since I can remember," he interrupts me, putting his hands on my waist, "you've been the only one understanding me, the only one who truly saw me.

"No..." I carefully move his hands away, "Aemond this, whatever you think you're feeling it's-"

"I know what I feel." He snaps, but his features soften immediately, "I know what I feel. I want you, and I know you feel it too."

"No." I push him off, "no, Aemond, I don't. This is... very sweet, but I don't share these feelings. I'm sorry."

He looks at me, without saying a word, without a single expression on his face.

"There would be time, my love." He finally says, "You just need to get away from my dear sister in order to properly see."

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, irritated.

He simply hums, retrieves the book, and hands it to me, and without any more words, he walks away.

I take a moment to catch my breath. What just happened? I can't believe Daemon was right, like this. When he put his hands on me, there was something in his eye that made me fear for myself.

I'm afraid he has changed a lot since I last saw him.

[two-white-butterflies]

parallel lines | d. targaryen | part ten

Description: An ordinary middle school teacher moves to a desolate town with her fiancee. After suffering episodes of vivid nightmares, she realizes that his uncle looks exactly like the man in her dreams.

Pairings: daemon targaryen/reader, aemond targaryen/reader

Trope: Reincarnation

series masterlist |

Grief makes us do unspeakable things. It sharpens our claws, and protects us against things that may happen in the future. It forces us to be reserved, makes us shut up.

But sometimes grief makes us explode.

Makes us yearn for the love that hasn't been granted to us.

"You're not allowed to talk to him." the police guard scoffs.

Alicent weakens. Her first child tied in cuffs, never allowed to live life as a free man again. "I'm sorry," she mouthed - staring deep into Aegon's eyes. His lips pressed into a thin line, entirely unsure if the descent into madness was caused by his parents.

He cannot blame them, even if it was.

He walks away.

So you're leaving in the morning, on the early train.

The music in your airpods blasted. Harwin continued loading your luggage into the trunk. He doesn't know when he'll see you again.

I could say everything's alright. I could pretend and say goodbye.

"We'll keep in touch." you promised, wrapping him in a warm embrace. Daemon's hand found the small of your waist. "I'll call you everyday." Harwin made the same promise.

Basically his full-sister at this point.

"- I'll miss you." Harwin pressed a kiss on your forehead.

Daemon opens the car door for you. It was the beginning of your life. A life that you fought hard to have again.

I won't stop loving you.

I'll always be here by your side. I'll never want you to say goodbye.

Aemond smiled, hearing the radio play your favorite song. He wonders if you're better now - living the life that he took for so long. "So Mr. Aemond Targaryen, is it your first time in therapy?" the older woman adjusted her glasses.

"Yes." he answered with a smile.

(FIVE YEARS LATER)

yourname: ❤️ thank you for visiting us in 🇦🇺 thank you for the cute photos @helaenasphotography

liked by harwinstrong and 321 others

>comments

harwinstrong: My Heart 🥲🥺

helaenasphotography: always welcome guys! ✨

RhaenyraStrong: When are you coming home? Missing youuuu soo muchhhh - yourname: soon, i promise!!

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It's been five years since you disappeared off the face of the earth. You can still remember the day that you left. It was a Sunday.

May 7, 2023.

You moved to Switzerland with Daemon, enjoying the snow and the scenery around you. He started teaching in an international school. You postponed your law degree, instead you focused on running a daycare and healing from your scars.

You were lucky to welcome your first child.

Daenerys.

After Switzerland, you moved to Australia.

The warm sand was kissing your barefoot. The beach was beautiful in the morning, you liked the way the sun stung your skin. "Let's go for a swim," Daemon pleads, "I don't want to get stung by jellyfishes, love." you whined, but he continues pulling you in the water.

The water was warm, though slightly colder than the sand. A sigh escaped your mouth feeling the seaweed wrap around your feet. It was another day in paradise. "They won't bite, I promise." he pressed a kiss on your lips.

He was enjoying this life.

"It's not my problem if I get bitten anyways." you wrap your arms around his body, using him as a floater. He chuckles, remembering the time he had to haul you to the hospital because of a snake bite.

It was a garden snake, not the venomous kind.

"I'm sorry for that," he laughed, walking until the water reached your shoulders. The seaweed was ticking your thighs. "I'm glad that everything happened the way it did. I got justice for my mom's death. I got you. I got Daenerys." you whispered.

"I love you, Dae." you confessed.

"I love you too," he hummed, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

harwinstrong posted to his story!

caption: daemon n daenerys. visited australia 🇦🇺! cheers mates

replies

RhaenyraStrong: Aww he looks so cute RhaenyraStrong: Please take more pictures!

Harwin smiled, helping you load the luggage inside of the car. "Two years and you're finally coming home." he states, placing his hand on your head and messing with your hair.

"I'm sorry that it took a while. We had a lot of things going on." you exchanged a knowing look with Daemon.

Harwin takes a closer look at the little boy. "Jesus, he looks exactly like you." he observed. "- don't let Daemon hear that." you placed a finger to your lips, continuing to rock the little boy to sleep.

"The car is ready." Daemon says, opening the door for you.

Harwin sits in the passenger seat, while you and Daenerys are in the backseat. "Is she strapped properly?" Daemon does his final rounds of safety inspection. "We're ready to go, dad." you confirmed.

yourname: thanks for the photos @helaenasphotography ❤️

liked by harwinstrong and 1,382 others

>comments

RhaenyraStrong: Congratulations are in order!!

jacejacejace: I'm so excited for the wedding 😍 ate that

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daemontargaryen: "If there is heaven in this life, it is my mother." ❤️

liked by harwinstrong and 96 others

>comments

RhaenyraStrong: Daenerys was so little then 🥲 they grow up too fast

joffreyminecraft_gamerboy: uncle daemon can u plese by me robux? - daemontargaryen: ok

LaenorVelaryonLaw: Keep posting pics of Dany and (Your Name) I'm tired of seeing your eyesore face on my newsfeed - daemontargaryen: You follow me, so?

"Dany, be careful. Vissy has soft bones." you dutifully reminded. In the span of five years the children in the family grew.

Rhaenyra and Harwin had Aegon, Viserys and Visenya.

"I don't know how you take care of these many kids. Daenerys just by herself is a handful." you chuckled, admiring the way Rhaenyra raised her children with tenderness and affection. "Harwin decided to have an early retirement, so we're with the kids 24/7." she humbled.

6 children. 1 teenager, and 1 adult child.

She's a legend.

"Has Jaehaerys and Jaehaera ever asked about their father?" you inquired, wondering if you should help shoulder the boulder of raising Aegon's kids. "I legally adopted them, as far as they're concerned Harwin and I are their parents." Rhaenyra confirmed.

Aegon was a strange creature. He always had that blank look in his eyes. He'd always joke about the most deranged topics, but when his children entered the room - his eyes would light up. He was a horrible person, but you think that he's a good father.

To some extent.

"Enough of that, I'm so excited for your wedding." Rhaenyra placed a hand on your forearm. Your eyes light up at the thought. "I already picked out a few bridesmaid dresses. I just need y'all to choose." you announced. "- I think they're in my room." you remembered.

Rhaenyra motioned for the maids to grab the gowns.

"Let's have a fashion show!" you smiled.

yourname: 08.23.24 🖤 Officially Mrs. Daemon Targaryen

liked by 1,239 others

helaenasphotography: Congratulations guys! I couldn't stop crying last night :(( ❤️

RhaenyraStrong: We did it baby!!!

harwinstrong: congrats sis and bro

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.

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daemontargaryen: thank you for marrying me.

liked by 100 others

>comments

harwinstrong: Thanks for inviting us. We had fun.

helaenasphotography: Congrats guys!! 🥳 Cheers to forever

[gojuo]

what are your thoughts on the theory that Aegon killed himself with poison?

100% am a proponent of it and actually have been trying to push the agenda as canon since S1 :ppp bc F&B-canon is obviously that Corlys and Larys poisoned him, there's really no way to spin it as something else in the book HOWEVER the tragedy of all the Targtowers and Aegon's tragedy as the big bro of the family and as Alicent's first and last son is sooooo much more emotional and poetic to me if he decided to commit suicide rather than getting murdered. There is something so beautiful and heartbreaking to me about how all of the Targtowers died alone and separated from each other (this is why them loving each other actually like in the book is so important to me and why Condal making the changes he's made pisses me off beyond belief).

The two youngest brothers die fighting to defend their big brother and the two oldest who are married to each other commit suicide... There is just something so delicious about that like... Aemond seeks to redeem himself by defeating Daemon for his big brother because his actions have caused the chain of events that ended up in Jaehaerys' death and he is overwhelmed by guilt for it, thinking he could set things right by killing the killer, completely unable to face his family anymore, and eventually dies trying, and Daeron carves a path of war and vengeance through the Reach in order to return to King's Landing and save his family, consumed by guilt over not being able to save Maelor, his big brother's baby, who was on his way to him yet he dies in the process, not having reunited with his family in years.... And then you have the two oldest siblings who are married to each other against their will and are the only two people in the world to understand what the other is going through... What ache is, what grief is, what it did to them... They are the only ones to understand the other. Then King's Landing falls and Helaena is all alone in the world, separated from her entire family in a lonely castle. Her sons are dead, her girl is missing, her mother is in the dungeons, her brothers are all gone and she is alone in King's Landing. The pain and the loss and the loneliness is too much to bear, it hurts too much to live, so she decides to kill herself in the end. And then Aegon, who has been alone and separated from the entire world and his entire family on a lonely island for six months returns to King's Landing, to both of his sons slaughtered, his girl faraway, his mother a shadow, his dragon gone, his sister dead, and his brothers dead. They all died for him and the crown their mother put upon his head. He's returned but only to an empty house. He is all alone in King's Landing. He is more ghost than person at this point. The pain and the loss and the loneliness is too much to bear, it hurts too much to live, so he decides to kill himself in the end.

And that is Alicent's tragedy. That's her humbling, her karmic justice, her comeuppance. The two children she forced the crown upon in order to save them from their inevitable fate make the decision to end their lives. She's lost almost everyone by this point already, Gwayne, Otto, Criston, Jaehaerys, Maelor, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron, they are all gone but Aegon, her first baby, remains. Her last hope and her last love. And even that isn't enough because the loss is too great for him to swallow. So in the end, he leaves her too. By choice. That is her punishment.

To me, this is parallels, this is connections, this is themes and tragedy and satisfying character conclusions. THIS IS CINEMA.

[drakaripykiros130ac]

Explain to me why the greens’ child’s death is perceived by some as more important/more tragic than the death of Rhaenyra’s child, Prince Lucerys Velaryon.

Why is Helaena’s grief more important than Rhaenyra’s?

Helaena suffered the loss of one child. One. And that about sums up her tragedies. Something for which she closes off completely, ignores her living children and abandons her family - so she could be in depression and feel sorry for herself.

I am prepared to make a list to touch the ground of what Rhaenyra suffered throughout her life. She is the most tragic character of this story.

Rhaenyra lost her mother, she was undermined for her gender her entire life, she was cornered, mentally and physically abused by a faction of snakes founded by a woman who took her mother’s crown, she suffered the loss of her father and two children because of the green faction in a short span of time. And yet she didn’t cower in depression and abandon her family because of it.

This faction of snakes who ganged up on her ever since that gold digging woman became queen, usurped her throne, caused her miscarriage and murdered her child.

So don’t you dare come at me with “you should bow your head for what Helaena suffers” or “the Blacks need to be condemned for B&C”.

B&C is the consequence of the greens’ actions. Plain and simple. Aemond is to be held responsible for being a sadistic, murderous c*nt and Aegon for applauding his actions.

What did they expect? For the Blacks to just sit down, smile and accept the murder of an innocent child? Did they expect Daemon to sit down and accept this insult brought to him, a Targaryen Prince, by a bunch of corrupted social-climbers? They expected Rhaenyra to take hit after hit after hit from the Hightowers and not retaliate?

Y’all whine about the imagined “bullying” suffered by Aemond (at the hands of his own brother, the ringleader), but turn a blind eye to the psychological abuse Rhaenyra has endured from Otto, Alicent and the Council the Hightowers have in their pocket, for years.

Rhaenyra was alone in her struggle. Alicent complains when she had a whole House in Oldtown backing her, she had a whole faction. Rhaenyra fought her own battles without true support for years.

The greens should feel the pain Rhaenyra has felt 10 times over.

They should feel the loss of an innocent child, as Rhaenyra does. I’m not losing a minute of sleep over it, and neither should Rhaenyra.

They did what they did, they got what they got.

It’s called: taking responsibility for your actions.

I’ve said it once and I will say it again: Daemon was quite generous in his retaliation. He also lost a daughter because of the greens.

“A son for a son” could have been followed by “A daughter for a daughter” easily. But he didn’t go that far, did he? Kudos to him for holding back. For that alone he showed more honor than the greens have in all their years of existence.

I don’t believe we got any justice for Princess Visenya Targaryen, daughter of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen and Prince Daemon Targaryen.

So excuse me for not shedding tears for something the greens brought on themselves.

This is not me throwing a parade for B&C.

This is me just not…giving…a…damn!

[matherofdragons]

How dare they try to make the Greens the bad ones?

First it was the claims that Alicent and Cole are responsible for the death of Jaeharys. God forbid a widow have some fun. While I have issues with her sudden relationship with Cole and the sex scenes that are presented as raw while the ones on the black side as intimate, it doesn't make them responsible for the death of a child.

Then came the claims it was Aegon's fault, that he was a bad father, that it was his drinking and indifference that caused it, but he was genuinely nice with with his children.

The real villain is Condal and his writing team. They are for Rhaenyra, fine but try to present the story neutrally. The whole B&C was butchered in favour to make the Blacks look less bad. It's supposed to be tragic. Where was the Sophie choice? Where was "Your mother wants you dead?"? It was just a "mistake". We all know it was not. It was "a son for a son".

Season 2 Episode 2 just continued the trend. They knew people will sympathise with Helaena and Aegon and will start hating the other side. So they banged their heads together and came up with a episode made to destroy them.

The funeral was depicted as a publicity stunt. While Luke's being a genuine family ceremony. See guys the Greens are dysfunctional. They aren't a real family. Why didn't they use Rhaenys' massacre of the smallfolk as PR? Did they forgot it happened?

The grandmother doesn't want to attend as she's too busy thinking about the d, mother doesn't want to attend, father is told NOT to attend, no other relatives around. Luke's ceremony was the complete opposite of this. B

Aemond was too busy being dotted by a pseudo mommy to participate in the upcoming warplans or be there for his family. He somehow knows that it was Daemon just because. Is he getting visions like Helaena?

Aegon was denied a scene with wife, so they can grief together. They just had to pass each other to make it seem he's indifferent to her. Alicent isn't there to grief with him, contracting again with Jace and Rhaenyra who griefed together. I guess she was more interested in Cole's private parts.

Otto throws a really pathetic tantrum over muh ratcatchers and uses it as an excuse to shit on Aegon for 5 minutes. Because Aegon is bad for seeking justice for his son. And why did the small folk react so badly? Was killing few people who could have been part in the murder of the Prince worse than the stunt Rhaenys pulled?

And how can I forget the dog. The dog is making people sympathetic towards child butchers. Lovely.

Bravo Sara Hess! Bravo Condal! You truly outdid yourselves.

Justice for my Prince Jaeharys! Cole did the right thing. If it wasn't for Mahsaria his plan would have worked!

Bonus for the book version!

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Guurll I saw your requests are open and 1. I LOVE YOUR STUFF (esp. Aemond related but I sort of became an Aegon girlie thx to u). and 2. I love me some Aemond angst so here's my idea, I know is not original and probably there is something similar out there but hey, it is original in my head and I'm sure your talented hands will turn it into a bomb as always :)) - Aemond is married to this badass, sarcastic but super loving woman who loved him from the first glance and would do anything for him. Problem is, the war came, he left for Harrenhal and while he's away she finds out she pregnant; but what she also finds is about his whereabouts with Alys and she literally turns crazy heartbroken and angry, loses the child (if you're not ok with this please leave it out) but still informs her family they need to support him and this is how he survives the "dance". Aemond finds out about the shit he caused and feels shitty to say the least. He comes back home, his wife doesn't want to have anything to do with him and he tries to make amends and put the pieces back together. So basically angst lvl 9000 with slight fluff at the end. Please feel free to play with this as you see fit and remember I just gave you my heart for giving me the chance to send this in!!:X:X

The Spoils of Lies

PAIRING: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Wife!Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers [implied]

WORDS: 1,863.

WARNINGS: mentions of adultery, mentions of pregnancy/miscarriage, mentions of grief/mourning, brief reference to suicidal thoughts.

A/N - ugh I am a sucker for angst, nonnie!!! this concept makes me so wild for Aemond, cause he’s always presenting himself as a dutiful, loyal being. but he fucked up big time here 👀 also thank you x my agenda is to make people feral over both Targ boys! and thank you for the kind words nonnie, hope I did your request justice ♥️

If there was an earthly possibility you could rewind the clock, turn back time itself with your bare hands, to a moment you were the happiest, you would in a heartbeat. A moment in time where you found yourself in the warm, familiar embrace of your devoted husband, Aemond Targaryen, the intense feeling of your heart being full of sheer affection and love.

Although, many would agree, mixed with the fate of the Targaryens, good things could never truly last… And that was no exception to your marriage with the Prince Regent.

Aemond made no hesitation in deciding to fight the resistance against his elder brother’s throne, often declaring and meeting such treachery, punishable by death. With much inevitability, Aemond would be absent, gone for months on end, away from your company with nothing but lengthy distance separating you both.

And much to your luck, a few months prior to Aemond having to leave, the Gods had blessed you dearly with the heartfelt news that you were with child... Aemond had always been eager to start his own family, especially after being betrothed to you.

"Our child shall be blessed with his or her father's resilience and its mother's grace and wit... Rest assured, my love, I shall return for the birth. What kind of a father would I be to miss the birth of their firstborn, let alone not be present to hold you?"

Aemond had you strategically relocated and confined under secure protection of some desolate keep in the Reach, not even your relatives being aware of your whereabouts.

Yet as the arduous days lingered on, the small talk of warfare that would often waft into your listening ear, began to dissolve with soft wisps of a young Prince taking the favour of some woman began to stir. Initially, you presumed the Prince in discussion could practically be anyone… Prince Daemon, Prince Jacerys, mayhaps even Prince Daeron. Aemond’s involvement was the least of your concern, that was until someone had mentioned in conjunction to such gossip, that the woman in reference, had resided in Harrenhal.

Harrenhal, where Aemond himself, as far as you had been informed, was his current whereabouts, where he was supposed to find himself undertaking decree over the hostage traitors.

Such rumours, the vile accusations [or so you had naively convinced yourself to believe] had spread to the concerned ears of your immediate relatives. Immediately you were determined to set the record straight, sending ravens with letters, adamant on reassuring your relatives, that your solid stance as well as theirs was to remain faithful to Aemond and the succession of his elder.

"Do not to indulge in the horrendous lies, spread about by the foes, themselves."

Little did you know, your words would come to haunt you with the terrible truth, and consequences with it...

"Just tell me the truth of it, Aemond. You need not deny what others have confirmed."

Sighing, Aemond shook his head incessantly, looking down at his shuffling feet against the solid concrete, leaning himself defeatedly over the creaking, wooden chair.

"Just have the decency to speak the truth!" Infuriated and exhausted, one hand resting over the slight curve of your once prominent, rounded belly, now aching with a dull pain, the other slamming against the oak desk of some private, council chamber.

"I-I... I cannot."

The swell of hot tears begin to cloud your clear vision, as your face grimaces in a fusion of rage, sorrow and grief... As the gossip began to churn from whispers to outright concern, many lords and ladies in calling, had reluctantly granted your persistent questioning with their own testimonies. Each testimony, aligned with the other, and you spared yourself knowing any further beyond the truth that Aemond had bedded a strange woman, by the name Alys... That he had fallen for her, sparring her from death, only to remain by her side, than yours...

You found yourself, constantly enraged and stricken with the raw agony of heartache, clutching at your breast, and another at your belly, where your once growing babe was protected inside. Constant tears falling across your cheek, as you struggled to breath, incompetent to find rest. Your body grew weaker without the slumber, your appetite diminished or repressed, you could not say, yet you found yourself scarcely replenished. That was until the dreadful night, you felt a hot ooze, pooling from between your inner thighs. Hiking your modest gown up, only to find your fingers glazed with a crimson red, a sharp lightening of pain shooting from your stomach towards your bloodied entrance.

"Th-The baby-"

That night was a gruesome one indeed, that only ended with greater devastation. You did not think your heart could take any more anguish, hoping that the torturous labour would end your own meaningless life in the process. Yet, the Gods willing, you found yourself awake by dawn. With only having spent a day to recover and recuperate, you made the sole decision to seek Aemond out for yourself. Against the wise advice of the maesters and your ladies, they had succumbed to your wishes, only implying they arrange the travels for you, as means to lessen the burden.

During the journey, you found yourself soaked in your own thoughts, with moments of silence and numbness in between, to spare you from the hurt. In time, you had safely arrived, only to be met with Aemond's shock and false excitement.

Sparing no time for him to devise a plan, you spat of what you knew, with Aemond harshly ushering you to where you stood now.

"Ahh- So the husband who spoke of honour and duty, seems to have his tongue tied, just as a coward would incline to denial..."

"Y/N- m-my love, ñ-ñuha ōños [my light]-" Aemond's blatant stutter on his low words, was a sight you had never witnessed before, plucking at your heartstrings.

"Sh-She is a renowned witch. One that had deceived me so. I-I did what I did, not out of love but of craft... Deceit. M-My true love, Y/N-"

He strides over to you with a swiftness that caught you off-guard, too late to back away in defence. His calloused hand reaches over, gripping your soft palm tightly, his thumb stroking your skin.

"It has always been you, ābrazȳrys [wife]. I need you to believe me, just this once, even if it is against the world, I ask too much of you, I know."

"A-Aem please, you have no idea-"

"You came all this way in your condition to see me, to hear the truth... This is my truth, Y/N."

Aemond promptly fell to his knees, tugging your arm towards him, you weakly tried to resist, yet failed to pull away. His defined lips instinctively kissed over your tender skin, trailing up your arm ever so slowly, sending chills to coarse through your spine.

"Aem-"

"Please Y/N... I wouldn't dare to live with myself if it meant you alone in the world, you alone hating me for the troubles I have done untoward you and our precious babe."

The babe... Your mind caught in a haste with Aemond's overwhelming presence, drifted from the fact you were no longer with child.

"I-I lost the babe, Aem... Last night. I-I bled-"

Halting in his affections, Aemond's viable eye remained fixated onto your stomach, as your hand instinctively planted itself against the silk fabric, rubbing at your empty womb. Silence drowned the room, only the faint depth of Aemond's staggering, dense breath could be heard.

"A-Aemond-" You breathlessly whimper, pulling your hand away from his loosened grip, as your fingers reassuringly comb through his delicate, neat strands.

"Y-You lost the babe... W-Was it because of- Me?"

You took a few sparing seconds to decipher whether to respond truthfully or to sugar-coat your response. In the moment of hearing the cold, hard truth, you wanted nothing more than to rid yourself free of Aemond and his cruelty. At one point in your trek, you felt the slightest temptation to disappear, bribing the driver to take the wrong turn only to cease your existence in Aemond's life altogether. Although considering the rawness of the situation, the truth was what you came for, and was what you intended to speak of.

"Th-The maesters believe, it was the-ugh- strain of the spoils of the war. They believe that I-I was under great stress, the babe simply could not cope."

Aemond's handsome face fell towards the floor, the swaying of his hair in motion to the shaking of his head, in utter disbelief. The stinging tears once more existent, streaked across your flustered face.

No further words echoed through Aemond, nor could you endorse the courage in yourself to speak. His lean arms snaked around your waist firmly, pulling your feeble frame closer towards him, burying his face against you.

Although muffled, you could discern the sobbing cries of Aemond's pain, triggering your own mournful cries once more. A few minutes passed, until he could gather himself, persistently pleading his apology to you, over and over again.

"It is all my fault. I-I had neglected you for far too long, failing my duty to devote myself to you, Y/N as a husband and as a father. I failed to uphold the vows I spoke of to you. Because of my weak mind, I killed our child."

The brutality in his words, his whimpering tone, and shaken hands as you released his embrace, cupping his wet cheeks, as you leaned towards him.

"You did not kill our child, Aem... The Gods can be cruel, just as they can be merciful... I, too, can be merciless. I could ask that you bid me free from the clutches of duty as your wife. And yet... I can be just as forgiving-"

"Tell me the truth of it, Aemond... Do you wish to keep me as your wife? To never again leave me to ponder and suffer in the whirlpool of vicious lies and gossip."

Aemond's doeful eye eagerly gazes up towards, a fleeting shimmer of yearning glistened across his blackened pupil.

"Yes, yes, of course, ābrazȳrys [wife]. You bless me once again with your everlasting kindness. A kindness that I am undeserving of. Ride with me on dragon-back. I want to go home, I want to be with you now."

"And what of the witch? What if she tempts you again? I cannot bear to go through this again, Aemond. Spare me that."

Proudly standing once more to his sturdy feet, his fingers now interlocked with yours lovingly.

"I shall have her head, if it pleases you my dearest. Punishment by death on the account that she con a royal Prince into adultery."

The familiar, stern tone that would adorn your ears like sweet honey to your lips, finally returned, subtly easing the ache in your heart. Earning a faint, warm smile scorned across your pretty face, Aemond lowered his head towards your height, planting a soft kiss across your forehead.

"I promised my sword to you, I promised my love to you, I promised my life to you. I intend to keep those promises till the end of my days."

general taglist [bold means I could NOT tag you] - @evenstaris @chompchompluke @fan-goddess @malfoytargaryen @hightowhxre @bibli0thecary @m1ndbrand @connorsui @elegantsplendour @randomdragonfires @sylasthegrim @arcielee @s-we-e-t-t-ea @sahvlren @aemondtargaryensrider @watercolorskyy @hypnos-daughter-certified @urmomsgirlfriend1 @backyardfolklore @snowprincesa1

Aemond taglist - @megatardisbaby @harrypotteranna23-blog

credit for dividers - @/firefly-graphics

[maid-with-sunset-in-her-hair]

Vaemond was murdered by Daemon, not "executed." After Aemond lost his eye, Viserys proclaimed that the punishment for pointing out that Rhaenyra's bastard children are bastards was to lose your tongue. So Daemon broke the law and commited murder when he killed him, and Rhaenyra broke the law and is accomplice to murder when she ordered his death. Is the equivalent of a judge giving someone the death penalty for a crime when the law states they should pay a huge fine. Not to mention that people in Westeros have the right to join the Night Watch to avoid execution or mutilation, and Vaemond wasn't given that option before having his head chopped off. Did Viserys do anything to punish Daemon and Rhaenyra for abusing their power? Take away their titles or financially support Vaemond's widow and children? Lmao no. He let them get away with murder, literally, and even mutilated Vaemond's family when they asked for justice. Viserys was a tyrant, that's why the Iron Throne immediately rejected him after he gave that order and injured him so badly he nearly died from gangrene.

[nrilliree]

https://www.tumblr.com/kataraavatara/747601709337083904/sometimes-i-think-im-the-only-person-who-watched?source=share

The funny thing is that before this scene, Alicent had let Larys get away with killing two people for her own benefit. Justice didn't matter much to her at that moment. She also had Criston as a Guard after he savagely killed someone, and she has been trying for years to have Rhaenyra and her children exiled or even worse, killed. She also hides information when it benefits her; she didn't mention Aegon when she went to complain to Viserys about the pig's joke, when she knows perfectly well that Aegon participated and possibly planned it. When she went to Aegon's chambers, she basically told him that he could keep bothering Aemond, but only him. Alicent can overlook the crimes or bad behavior of others as long as it benefits her cause and herself.

That's why what Rhaenyra told her is completely true: Alicent goes around believing herself honorable, morally superior, and more correct than others, and she loves to judge. But she will be quite willing to turn a blind eye and allow crimes and bad behavior as long as they benefit her, and then she will turn around and continue acting as if she were holier than others.

I agree with @kataraavatara. People (including @thekinslayed) forget that just minutes earlier on screen Rhaenyra was talking to Daemon about how she didn't think Alicent was capable of being involved in the Strongs' murder after all. But when she saw that Alicent was capable of attacking a 6/7-year-old child with a knife to intentionally hurt him, and the law and the king's order did not stop her from doing so, she realized that yes, Alicent was capable of murder. And that she's involved in the deaths of Harvin and Lyonel.

Moreover, I do not think that Alicent's life was some great sacrifice and service for which she had to be rewarded, but rather something that was normal in Westeros - arranged marriages were commonplace and the fact that a woman after marriage was supposed to be faithful to the family husband was the norm, not a sacrifice. It's as if Catelyn deserved to be called a saint because she took care of the Starks' interests after her marriage 🙄

[missglaskin]

What if reader got killed during the dance, and the blacks and greens are blaming one another about her death. Like I imagine Cregan Stark will want Aemond's head as he blames him for stealing his betrothed and saying how if he hadn't taken her, she would still be alive. And the blacks would probably help him. Aemond would be torturing people who might be involved in reader's death. Otto would demand an investigation be done. Rhaenyra would have a breakdown from hearing the news and would want revenge. Daemon might try to burn King's Landing for this. I have a feeling Halaena will silently blame her family for reader's death. Everyone in the future will probably have a different pov on how the war went down. Like people from king's landing will blame cregan for ruining a love story, the north will blame aemond for stealing someone's betrothed. I wonder how Dany would view this event.

Book spoilers 

Cregan will blame the greens, mostly Aemond. If the reader had been given to him as his betrothed, none of this could have happened. There will be a personal motive in his desire to demand justice. While the blacks may not necessarily agree with him, all that matters is they work together to rid of the greens. 

Aemond is certainly not taking this well either. What was done to Riverlands will be childsplay on what he’ll do next. The reader was his wife, the love of his life. She meant so much to him, that it felt as if half of him was ripped away. There’s so much emptiness that he fills with blood and fire. 

Aegon takes it the worst as well. There is the torn in wanting to meet the blacks out in the sky right there and then or to drown himself in his cups of wine. While he blames the blacks for what they have done, there is some blame in Aemond. If only had the reader been given to him, made the queen. No one would have touched her. 

Otto will also reveal such a ruthless side to not only the court and realm. The line of those he had tortured and hanged is a never-ending one. Alicent and Helaena are utterly devastated. They spend most of their days grieving. Helaena with the loss of her son and now the reader may be the final nail in the coffin. Daeron, like his brothers, goes on a path of vengeance. Nothing can really calm him until he has won every battle. 

When Rhaenyra was met with the news, as she did with Luke. She collapsed and soon the tears turned into rage. Demanding revenge and Daemon will gladly fulfill it for her. The wrath that Daemon unleashes makes the others pale in comparison. He will be feared causing so many innocent deaths and collateral damages that he pays no mind to. 

Corlys and Rhaenys are utterly furious as well as stricken with grief. Corlys is hellbent on getting revenge. It’s his way of coping with the death of the reader. It gives Rhaenys some of the bravery to stand in front of Aegon and Aemond, letting them know the realm knows it’s their fault for it. Daemon also let it be known when he faces off Aemond. The two shout their blames before Daemon lands the deadly blow. Not to mention, Baela taking her revenge against Aegon. 

When Rhaenyra takes the throne, she enjoys the sight of Otto being beheaded. She announces to the court one of his many treasons was being the cause the reader suffered her fate. All for the sake of his ambition. And it is what Aegon announces, blaming Rhaenyra instead when he has sunfrye eat her alive. 

When the throne goes to Aegon III. Alicent is spared, but she’s forced to live with all her children dead. Mourning them and mourning the reader even more.

Aegon III finds it painful to speak of the reader, and the court never makes mention of her in front of him. His children come to know nothing of her from their father, instead it comes from how everyone speaks of her. From all the paintings, monuments, the songs dedicated to her. 

This all left a strained relationship with Winterfill and King’s landing. The king’s landing has all their conflicting views, while Winterfell is adamant on blaming the Targaryens. When Cregan and Aemon the dragonknight meet. Aemon finds all that he thought was a tragic love story between the one-eyed prince and the princess hid many dark aspects. But no one believes Aemon, telling him it’s a lie told by the North. 

The Targaryens continue to uphold those supposed love story. They lie about how the reader came willingly to the family. There are all sorts of theories on which side she truly took, and it depends on the person telling those stories. For one, the starks have never forgotten the ‘true’ side of the story and when Rhaegar stole Lyanna, it felt like history repeating itself.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death, forced marriage, and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Hello angels! Here is another chapter! I did end up splitting it though because it was getting way too long and its my birthday this week so I may not be able to update as much as I would like to because I will be busy with friends and family! Anyways, thanks for all the love as per usual!!! I hope you enjoy <3

Chapter 66: Tides

Tides are something that are never sure.

You could never truly anticipate their movements, whether they would rise quickly or slowly, dragging the oceans swell up the rocks of the shore. Some men could argue that they could foretell the next drag of the sea, determined by the moons waxing or waning. But those men were fools, for the ocean has more than just the skies that guide it. Storms and winds, creatures, and Gods all have a say in what the frigid waters will do. 

With each push and pull of the waves came your salvation. With every waxing and waning moon, came your deliverance. People were often like tides themselves, changing each and everyday, with no discernible pattern.

As is knowledge and power.

Power was something that morphed and contorted, bending to whoever’s will was strongest, but even they could not hold that raw force for long. For power would never truly bend, just as the tides would never stay the same. 

Always changing. 

Always moving.

Always fluid. 

Like you. 

In the past year, you had changed and just like the tides, morphed and been bent, contorted and swelled, rose and fallen. A metamorphosis like the insects Helaena had always loved. And yet with each passing day, you feel your own tides within, pulling and pushing you. It weighed heavily on your mind, dragging you down beneath the waves, ripping the breath from your lungs as you felt yourself drowning in the torrent.

The task you had been given was no ordinary feat, and if it were anybody else, they would have surely broken by now. Given up, and played their hand too early. Raised a white flag and uttered ‘I surrender’. But you could not give up. You could only give in. And that was a distinction that you continually reminded yourself of. 

You were not giving up.

You were giving in. 

Giving in to the pressures of a man you were cursed to lay with. Giving in to the role you had said you would play. Giving in to the actions you so desperately wished to avoid, in order to protect yourself.

To give yourself more time.

To not be a steadfast fool and show your hand to the vipers you nested with. If you acted too quickly, they would smell a plot, and any little freedom you had been given would be swiped up, and the reality of death would be far sweeter. 

Though every fibre of your being screamed at you to hurt them, to maim them, to act quickly, and keenly with the blade of your mind that you had been sharpening each night since the usurpation, but you knew that it would be foolish. A plot played out too quickly and stupidly. Any fool could have seen that. A patient mind would get you to better results, and you had to a game to play. 

Wait and see. 

Wait and listen. 

Wait and deliver justice with a swift hand and a sharp mind. 

If you were to follow your desires, to follow the screaming voice which called at you in your dreams, the whispers of Lucerys and Helaena echoing behind it, you would fail, and all of this would be for naught. Your mother would lose everything, and you would lose your life.

The Greens needed to think you were broken, complacent, tired, and troubled, but not too much so. If you were to bend the knee and submit entirely, Alicent and her enablers would know something was afoot. And so you had to play the dangerous game of waxing and waning, pushing and pulling, listening and waiting, until the time was right.

Until the time you could call upon the Gods to give you your strength and deliver a raven requesting star fruit. 

But for now, you had to wait. 

It was not giving up, it was giving in. 

A distinction in which meant life or death. 

If you were the tides, then Aemond was your moon. Your temperament depended on the weather that he would bring. Would it be rain? A torrential downpour that seeped into your pores? The water rising until you drowned in it?

Or would he leave you high and dry. A sudden drought that had you thirsting for more, itching for more. Scratching at the earth in search of something, anything, to sustain your frail body, withering in the burning heat and loss of your own essence. Your own being. The very core of who you were. 

Or perhaps he would be a lovely summers day.

One where you may bask in the warmth of his light, and feel the soft rays kiss upon your skin, his breath on your face lingering far longer than the storms he would bring. You would forget, for a moment, to give yourself peace, that he had brought any storms at all. That he was not a man who changed with each day, that he was not a man who had brought such destruction.

If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of your sanity. 

Or would he freeze you out and let his bitter frost nip at your fingers and toes?

Would his passion burn you like dragon fire? Melting your body into his with every touch. 

It was inevitable, inescapable, unavoidable. 

Like how the sun slips behind the mountain tops, darkness blanketing the valley below, but you know that it will rise on the morrow. Just how the creatures in the trees and on the ground know, that as the darkness passes, the sun will shine again.

But it is more of a question of not if, but when. 

When would it pass? 

When will it pass? 

The tides come and go with the moon, pushing you away from your desires and pulling you back roughly, dragging you over the jagged rocks and reefs, their sharp edges cutting through you. The tides rage with the storms but they will always rescind back to calm. 

Aemond was the moon, and you were the tides, and he predicted and controlled your rise and fall, just how you have grown to predict the uncertainty ahead. 

There is only one guarantee in your life, and that is not knowing what is next. 

And so you must build yourself a ship, to sit atop the tides, to sail over them with their swell and recession, rather than succumbing to it and sinking into the waves. You needed to be smart, you needed to be patient. 

You needed to wait. 

What knowledge could you surely give your family to help them? That Aemond resents his brother still, and that the Maester was an ally? But is that all? 

That was knowledge that you knew before you were wed to him. 

You could not offer that as a sign to strike. For your family to come forth, dragons and fire, for the same standing as you had before. A standstill. Feet stuck in the dirt on even playing grounds, except you had no access to Vermithor. And so the hill sloped upwards towards the Greens.

And so you had to wait. 

A letter arrived some few days later from your family, asking for your wellbeing and updating you on theirs. It was comforting to know that you still had some form of contact, and when you had asked Aemond if you were to fly to witness Jacaerys’ union to Baela, he had hummed and given you a non-answer. 

You had written back to them and gave them the answer that you had recieved, a shaky maybe to your presence. A subtle, no. No absolute yes. It was all that you could give for the time being, and you would bite your tongue, lest he gouge it out with his talons.

One morning when the maids were readying you for another day by the sea, you had gazed at yourself in the mirror, far more than you had previously, and noticed a change in your appearance. Though the weight you had lost due to your arrival and the subsequent events had come back, there was a hollowness to your eyes. 

Your smiles never quite reached them, and the once vibrant violet looked almost dull and murky, as if beneath waters or behind storm clouds. A darker shade sat on the skin beneath them, making them appear almost hollow, but even still, your cheeks held colour, and your lips were less bitten and raw than they had been. 

Even your fingers had been given a lull in the usual assault your teeth or nails would give them.

But your eyes were something you could not look away from. 

As the girls brushed your hair, you stared at yourself. 

Who was she?

She looked like you, but was she really you?

But it was you. And you had changed.

And you would remind yourself of this.

Aemond had spent most of his days with Aegon and the small council, working with them with tasks for the realm, and then bringing his scrolls and tomes back to the chambers, his sharp nose in a book almost each and every night. 

After you had last spoken, after he had last told you of this so-called prophecy, there was a shift between the both of you. A stand still of your own. You were in the eye of the storm. The eye of his storm. The winds and rains had stopped, and the sky had opened up to show light. A path out. A way up. 

Just as Lucerys had thought he had found.

You anticipated the moment when Aemond would surge up through the clouds and swallow you whole.

You would not tempt him.

That afternoon, you had spent much of your time walking through the garden, looking at the various plants and flowers. You stopped your steps as you looked at a bright purple patch of flowers. It stood on a long stalk with fingerlike leaves, five points to each one, as it stood straight and tall. The flower itself looked almost bell shaped, or perhaps like a hood that a monk from the Sept may wear. 

Its appearance alone screamed danger. Natures own warning.

It looked familiar, and you made a note to yourself to look in the library for a tome on florilegium.

When you had returned to your chambers that evening, Aemond was sitting at the table, bent over a particularly large black tome, sharp nose pointed down to the page. He had hummed a greeting to you, not lifting his eye from the script as you entered. 

He had not touched you since that night, spending most evenings hunched over the table with piles of parchment and tomes, writing and reading beneath candlelight well into the darkness. You would retire to bed, expecting him to follow you, but he would not, continuing to write and read, shuffle papers and hum to himself softly. 

It was an oddly calming sound, a background noise of assurance that his attention would not be on you.

When you had asked him what he was doing, he had told you that Aegon had given him much work to do, and would be spending most evenings like that. 

But what had surprised you most was that he had apologised to you about it.

“I’m sorry that I am not more present. Aegon has given me things that he should be doing, but if I don’t, no-one will, and the realm will dissolve into chaos.” He had grumbled beneath his breath, as you stood beside him, looking at his messy script. 

You had told him you understood, and went to bed quietly and fell quickly into sleep. But this evening was different, and when he had greeted you with a short hum, you had expected yet another evening dining together on a table which had scrolls and tomes hurriedly shoved to the side to make room for the plates. An evening of his writing lulling you to sleep. 

Instead, you sat yourself by the fire, thinking of the flower you had saw in the gardens. It was so familiar to you. You could have sworn you had read about it somewhere, or had been told about it. But nothing could spring to mind.

Was it Hooded-Trumpet? Angels Locks? 

What was it called?

“What are you thinking of?” Aemond’s voice pulled you from your thoughts.

“Some flowers I saw in the garden, I have forgotten their names.”

“Hm, one of the Septa’s could tell you.”

If you were to ask them, and it turned out to be poison, they would know of your plotting and report you to the King. 

“It will come to me, I am sure.” You replied, tongue in cheek as you thought hard. 

“We are to dine with the King again.”

You sighed loudly into the chambers, turning to look at Aemond who was placing his quill in its holder, gathering the loose pieces of parchment in hand to stack them into a pile atop the open page of the tome. 

“Must we?” 

“We must.” Aemond replied, popping the ’t’ at the end as if he too was dreading the evening. 

“Can we not dine here?”

“The King has requested our presence.”

There was the tide again. 

“You are more and more a Prince Regent by the day with Aegon too busy in his cups and whores.”

You were testing the waters.

“It is my duty.”

“Is it not his duty to rule the realm, and listen to the people? Is it not his duty to read tomes, and write letters?” You pushed.

Aemond was silent, his eye rising to your face as he looked at you beneath his brow.

A silent warning. 

You bowed your head and stood, looking out at the water. The sun had lowered behind the horizon and the chambers began to darken. The tides would shift, you just did not know when.

Aemond came to stand beside you, looking out at the water. The smell of sandalwood and leather curled around you.

It was a familiar smell, and something that you had grown to like. Something you had grown to anticipate wherever you were. The occasional waft of his scent curling up from your dresses, when you would enter the chambers, or when he was nearby. Sometimes you would smell it in the gardens, and you would turn your head to look for him, but he was never there. 

“When is my nephew to be wed?” Aemond asked, eye still on the ocean. 

You turned your head to look up at him, almost in shock.

Was this his answer?

“Soon I believe. They had written to ask again if we would be attending.”

Aemond hummed.

“Should I write to tell them to expect us?”

“No.” 

Aemond turned on his foot to pour himself, and you, some wine, coming back over to hand you your goblet. You did not grasp it as you looked at him.

Aemond pursed his lips as he sipped from his own cup, still holding yours out to you, which you eventually took from him, bringing to your own lips as you looked back out at the water. 

“The King will not allow it. I have already asked.”

Fuck the King. 

You nodded your head and stayed side by side until you had both finished your wine, and the had knight come to the door to escort you to the dining hall. You were still taken back that Aemond had asked for you to go. Even if it was escorted by he himself, but still, he had tried. And Aegon had said no. 

You sat in the seats that you always did, with Aegon opposite you, and Alicent and Otto on either side of him, whilst the rest of the council filled the empty chairs. The food was placed upon the table and Alicent spoke a small prayer to the Seven.

You often wondered what she prayed for when alone, did she pray for vengeance? Penance? 

The council had seemed to grow more relaxed around your presence, as though they were finally accustomed to you being there, or they were assured that you would not be a threat. Larys spoke of whispers with no meaning and even offered to go on a walk with you again. You had responded politely and said that you would surely take him up on his offer. 

The night continued with conversations that held no interest to you, and so you listened in to words here and there, hoping to hear something, anything of use. 

Your patience was rewarded.

“There is some troubles down in Flea Bottom, but nothing our guards and knights cannot handle.”

Your ears pricked up. 

Trouble in Flea Bottom?

You reached to grasp your goblet of wine, feigning that you had not heard Lord Wylde speaking to Grand Maester Orwyle. 

Orwyle was a Maester who had served your Grandsire, and turned cloak against your mother. He was an old man, with dark skin, and eyes blacker than coal. In his youth he could have been a handsome man, but now his hair had receded, and his years on earth had wrinkled him. 

Otto and Alicent spoke across the table to Aemond with Aegon, and you strained to listen to the other two whispering.

“…Rhaenyra…if she…supporters…laws…”

Your name pulled you from your eavesdropping.

“I asked how it is to have your husband back.” Aegon smirked, cheeks flushed from wine and crown crooked on his head. 

His hair looked unkempt, unbrushed and oily, tucked behind his ears and out of his face, with smaller strands that had escaped crossed over his forehead. For once, his coat was buttoned up to the top, coming just under his chin, high on his neck.

It looked as though the coat was holding his head upright. 

“A relief, though he spends most of his time reading and writing the nights away. I fear I have lost him to the book.”

“Aemond you must find time to rest.” Alicent softly cooed, head tilted as her hands came together in front of her, elbows on the table. Maternal instincts alight.

Here was your in. 

“I have told him to no avail.” You began, looking at Aemond before back at Alicent, “He rarely comes to bed, and spends much of his time hunched over the table by candlelight for all hours of the night.”

Aemond hummed beside you, “Merely performing my duties.”

“Are they your duties, or the Kings?” You questioned.

“My duties?” Aegon cocked his head to the side, looking at you, “Do you question my rule?”

Otto shifted, and you saw Larys lean into the conversation.

“I merely question if my Lord Husband should be burdened with playing the role of Prince Regent without the title.”

Aegon laughed angrily, pushing his tongue into his cheek as he looked at the both of you. 

“Is this because he is now too busy to warm your bed? Do you sit and wait for him wanting as he neglects your needs?”

Heat rose in your cheeks. 

“Aegon.” Aemond said lowly.

“Merely a question.” Aegon leant back in his chair, the one larger than the rest, “Is your cunny missing my brothers cock?”

“You are a spineless little worm.” You sneered, leaning forward towards the table.

“Tell your whore to watch her tongue.” 

The sound of a chair scraping the floor cut across the room as Aemond jumped from his seat, watching Aegon like a hawk. His brow was drawn and eye narrowed, jaw set tightly into a line as he clenched his teeth. 

Aegon however, looked up at his younger brother in vicious delight. 

“Aemond.” Alicent uttered, desperate to cool the mans temper and ease the tension. 

The King laughed. 

Aemond breathed heavily, and you craned your neck to look up at your husband as he towered over the table, hands bawled into tight fists at his side. His knuckles turned white and you watched as he shifted on his feet, one inching to move behind him. 

A fighting stance.

“All in good jest, brother. No need to get your breeches in a knot.” Aegon smiled cruelly.

You whispered to your husband, looking up at him as he did not take his heated gaze away from Aegon.

“Besides,” Aegon continued, tone teasing, “We all know that her mother is the Whore Queen…Perhaps her blood runs thick in your wife.”

You dug your nails into your palm and stared at Aegon.

Would he be able to scream if you dug out his throat with your hands?

“Say it again.” Aemond growled quietly, looking at his brother. 

“Enough.” Alicent commanded, looking between her two sons. 

Aegon lifted his hands in mock surrender, but Aemond still did not seat himself, standing impossibly stiff as he kept his gaze on the King. 

“Sit.” Aegon smirked.

Aemond did not.

“Your King commands you.” Aegon grinned, watching as Aemond’s face twitched, and moved slowly to sit back down in his seat, hands on his lap as his fingers dug into the flesh of his thighs. 

“Aemond.” You whispered again, and yet the Prince would not take his brother from his sight, staring at him like a predator waiting to pounce. 

You pulled one of his hands from his lap, holding it in both of yours as you began to lift it. Aemond’s head turned, taking his eye from Aegon for one moment to look at you. You brought his hand up to your lips, calloused and scarred, fingers warm but stiff, and placed a soft kiss to his knuckles. Trying to soothe him. 

Trying to soothe the storm that brewed. 

A puff of air left Aemond’s nose as he looked at you, and his fingers squeezed your own. You let a tiny smile grace your lips, an assurance that it was okay, an assurance that you were fine, that he was fine, and released his hand. 

For the remainder of the night, you and Aemond both ate in silence before excusing yourself to your chambers. Alicent and Larys watched you both closely as you looked up at Aemond to see if he was to turn back around and slide a knife between Aegon’s eyes.

He didn’t.

The walk back was tense but not in a way that you were used to. This time, Aemond’s animosity was not pointed towards you, and instead his brother. For once, you did not fear this anger. 

You realised that Aemond could help you. 

You needed to get him to help you.

You needed to convince him that you loved him.

When you entered the chambers, Aemond barely said a word, looking at the pile of parchment on the table waiting for him, but moved to pour himself some wine at the side of the room. He had sat at the fire and drank, and you had joined him, allowing him to his thoughts and you to yours. 

Aemond could be swayed to you. 

He could. 

You needed to use his hatred towards his brother carefully. 

Like a cleverly spun web, it needed to have no faults, and needed to be made with precision.

What was the name of that flower you had seen?

Wolfshood? Snakebean? Bells of Triumph?

The maids came to ready you for the evening, and once you were in your chemise, and your hair had been released from its braids and brushed loosely down your back, you had made your way to bed, watching as your husband moved to sit back at the table to continue his writing and reading. 

A man truly dedicated to his duty.

“Aemond.” You called out to him softly, sitting up in your shared bed.

The light of the chambers was low, and only few candles were lit, most of the light coming from the dwindling fireplace. Aemond looked up to see you, a vision of beauty, all soft and Valyrian, silver hair warmed by the light of the fire, and eyes sparkling in the dark. 

“The hour is late.” 

Aemond continued to stare at you, stood beside the table which demanded his attention, but as did his wife. 

“Come to bed.” You cooed, reaching over to pull the sheets back on his side. 

Aemond looked at you and then down the the table beside him. Eye roaming over the tomes and parchment, piles of scrolls with ink pots and quills. A large candle sat in the middle of the table, its flame flickering and dancing, wax slowly melting down its sides. 

In a split decision, Aemond leant forward and blew out the candle on the table, making his way across the room to crawl into bed beside you. 

He came when you had asked him.

The heat of his body radiated beside you as he moved to blow out the candles surrounding the bed, his long hair laying down his back, brushed and silky, tickled your shoulder as he leant over you. 

Darkness covered the chambers and you settled into the pillows beside him, laying on your back as you blinked in the dark up at the ceiling. Aemond did the same, the both of you lost to your own thoughts and worries.

As sleep slowly began to pull you under, a name popped into your mind. 

Monkshood. Wolfsbane.

You had to hold back your grin. 

You knew you had recognised the tall plant. 

You hummed a tune inside your head, a song the Septa had sung once, long, long ago, in the gardens when you were young, and Lucerys was only three, and she had warned you of plants to not touch and just see.

Monkshood, Wolfsbane, Devils Helmut, three,

Five fingered leaves with sharp teeth on me.

Beware my root, my stem, my leaves, 

My pretty head of flowers tease.

A seed or petal, a touch or sip, will leave a man without his wit. 

Within the hour, a day or so, my poison reaps what has been sowed.

Thanks so much for reading along with me, if you wish to be added to the tag list please let me know :) Likes and reblogs are greatly appreciated ! Enjoy <3

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[abla-soso]

That's an objective fact, regardless of which team you might support.

Aemond accidentally killed a guy who was slightly younger than him but old enough to get involved in the war. The guy who maimed him for life, never apologized, and laughed at his face about what he did to him. He impulsively attacked him because he never got justice for the trauma and the disability he suffered. It was a fair fight, not an assassination. Luke could have fought back but chose not to. He had the means to defend himself but chose to run.

Daemon intentionally killed a child instead of doing the honourable thing: fighting the grown ass man who was responsible, like Rhaenyra asked. He assassinated an innocent, defenceless child. He didn't even do it out of blind grief or a misplaced need for justice. He was desperate to escalate the war even before Luke's death and finally found his excuse.

Aemond was a trumatized young man lashing out at someone who deserved it. Daemon was an evil coward who murdered an innocent child to deliberately escalate a war.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

The Silver Dragon (24/?)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Original Female Character

Word Count: 4748

Story Summary: Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, the Lady of Runestone, was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge.

Ignored by her father, and alone following the death of her mother, she is raised in King’s Landing alongside her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. But their lives are far from the fairy tales they read, and as tensions in the family rise, they find their paths may diverge.

Will they be pulled apart when the dragons dance?

Chapter Summary: Aemond, Arianwyn, and Queen Alicent race to find Brynna. Larys Strong informs them that she has been taken to the Throne Room by none other than Daemon, who claims that it was Brynna herself that attacked him the night before. Not only that, but he also accuses Aemond of forcing Arianwyn to marry him, and of raping her so that the marriage could not be dissolved.

Warnings: Violence.

Series Masterlist

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The Trial of Brynna Taler

Arianwyn had never craved violence. When she had tackled Rhaena years ago, all she wanted was to save Aemond. When she stabbed Daemon last night, it had been a desperate attempt to save her own life.

But now, as she frantically ran through the halls of the Red Keep in a dress borrowed from the Queen, she wanted nothing more than to feel her father’s blood running through her fingers.

If he had done anything to hurt Brynna, she did not know what she would do. Claw at his face, perhaps. Or rip every hair from his head. Gouge out his eyes. Take his sword and cut him in two, like he had done to Vaemond Velaryon. Command Emrys, the dragon he had once kept from her, to burn him alive.

Or maybe she would simply unleash Aemond upon him.

From the murderous glint in his eye and the hard set of his jaw, she knew that was the cruelest thing she could do.

Her husband would make him suffer for what he had done to her. By the time Daemon finally breathed his last, perhaps some small modicum of justice would have been served.

Arianwyn was torn from the fantasy of revenge when she rounded a corner and nearly slammed into Aemond’s back. She could not see why he had stopped, only that his hand was on the hilt of his sword, ready to defend his wife.

“Stand down, Aemond,” Alicent commanded, laying a soothing hand on his shoulder as she stepped around him.

Though he did not release his weapon, he did step aside, allowing Arianwyn to see Larys Strong, the Lord Confessor, standing before them.

Leaning heavily on his cane, the clubfooted Lord of Harrenhal looked over the harried group with a grimace. “I am afraid your presence is urgently required in the Throne Room, your Grace. Prince Daemon claims he has been attacked, and is demanding a trial immediately.”

“A trial?” Arianwyn asked, trapped somewhere between fear and hope. A trial meant that his attacker was alive, for corpse could not face judgment.

Larys’ dull blue eyes locked onto her face. “He has brought the accused – your long-serving maid, Brynna Taler – before the Hand and the Small Council.”

“Has he hurt her?” she asked, unable to keep her voice from breaking with terror.

Flicking his eyes to Aemond and to the sword on the Prince’s hip, Larys replied carefully. “Not grievously, my Lady.”

But the words offered no comfort. That Daemon had laid even a finger upon her was enough to set her tears flowing and a sob ripping from her wounded throat.

That single cry was more than enough for Aemond. He growled, drawing his blade as he pushed past the Lord Confessor.

Alicent followed him, shouting futilely for him to remain calm, with Arianwyn not far behind. Despite the relative warmth of the day, she pulled the fur stole the Queen had given her tighter around her neck to hide the grisly bruises that lay there.

Aemond could hardly see the path in front of him for the bloodlust surging through his veins. The fearful stares of courtiers and servants alike as he stalked through the halls of the keep were as inconsequential to him as rats in the gutter.

However, the words they whispered more frequent as they got closer to the Throne Room echoed through his mind.

“Do you think he really did it?”

“Of course not! He has only done what we have always expected.”

“It’s only that she’s been kept on that island that it hasn’t happened sooner.”

“That’s precisely what I mean! He’s been stewing in anger for all these years.”

“Perhaps since he could not have Lucerys’ eye, he took her instead.”

“She may have loved him once, but that was when they were, and he had no scar.”

“Would you really want that sharing your bed?”

“Gods, just look at him. Not even Maegor looked such a villain.”

“He did it. Of that, I have no doubt.”

Aemond would not react. He would not give them that satisfaction.

Still, he could not help but grip his sword tighter, until the skin of his knuckles ached with the effort. He could not stop his scar from burning, or the skin surrounding it from twitching. Nor could he stop his stomach from roiling, for despite Arianwyn’s ardent insistence in his continued beauty, he knew that the whispers were true.

To all but his wife, he was hideous – nothing more than a villain and a monster. 

The feeling of despair only deepened when he approached the open Throne Room doors and heard Daemon’s voice echoing throughout the hall.

“Arianwyn was distraught,” he said, voice wavering with fabricated despair as he addressed the growing crowd. “It is no wonder why. From the moment we arrived, Prince Aemond never once relented in trying to molest her before our very eyes – ”

His false tale of woe was cut short when the gathered crowd gasped as one at the sight of the One-Eyed Prince, the steel of his drawn blade gleaming in the dawn’s light, storming into the room, Daemon’s ‘distraught’ daughter close behind.

At the sight, Jace burst from his place by his mother’s side, drawing his own sword and pointing it toward Aemond’s chest.

“Release my sister!” he shouted, despite the fact that Aemond was clearly not holding her hostage.

“I am not your sister!” Arianwyn yelled back.

Aemond said nothing. He did, however, raise his own blade in reply as he took an offensive stance.

How dare Jacaerys call her ‘sister?’ What little blood they shared was thin, and tainted by his bastard birth. Perhaps if he had been more than Aegon’s boorish toady in their youth or been kinder to Arianwyn on Dragonstone, Aemond would not now be so eager for this fight.

Tilting his head in a silent dare for Jace to make the first move, Aemond could not help but wonder whether the Curse of the Kinslayer applied to bastard nephews.

But then Arianwyn screamed anew when she saw the woman kneeling before the Iron Throne.

“Brynna!”

Arianwyn pushed past the Queen, moving around Aemond and his outstretched sword. He reached his offhand out to stop her, but she brushed it aside.

“Take my hand, Arianwyn,” Jace whispered as she passed him.

She did not give him the courtesy of a reply or even a glance at his pleading face.

Daemon glared as she approached, but she did not face him either.

At the base of the Iron Throne, she tripped over the too-long skirts of Alicent’s dress, falling to her knees before her lady’s maid.

“Brynna, I’m so sorry,” she cried as she took in the woman’s wretched state.

A large purple bruise covered most of her face, from her split brow to her bleeding lip. Her nose was clearly broken, still marked with a dried river of blood.

But the worst of it was her hands. Her lithe, nimble hands that had crafted some of the finest dresses in the history of the Seven Kingdoms – including the dress that had become Arianwyn’s wedding gown.

Shattered.

Each finger bent and twisted, like the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. The skin was so red and bruised that Arianwyn could hardly see the countless cuts marking where Daemon’s stone had struck over and over and over again.

Arianwyn knew that while it was not by her own hand, she had done this. By angering her father, by stabbing him. The moment she married Aemond, she made everyone that she loved a target for Daemon’s wrath, and he had wasted no time in claiming his first victim.

“Oh, gods!” She cried, dropping her head to Brynna’s lap. “This is all my fault! I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry…”

Through her throbbing pain, Brynna tried and failed to quiet Arianwyn’s frantic crying, but soon found herself sobbing along with the girl. She wanted nothing more than to stroke her silver curls, but her hands were in far too much pain. Besides, she would never wish to see her Lady marred with blood.

“It is not your fault,” Brynna whispered, voice hoarse from screaming.

Arianwyn did not believe her.

She would beg and beg for forgiveness until her voice gave out. Until her knees bled from kneeling, and her eyes were dry of tears. She would beg until the Mother herself appeared to offer her mercy, or until the Stranger took her away – though to the heavens or the hells, she did not know.

At the door, Aemond raised his sword level with Daemon’s heart as he strode past Jace. The young Prince moved to stop him but was pulled back by his mother.

It was Daemon who had done this. He had hurt his wife’s greatest friend. He had made Arianwyn cry. And he would pay for it.

But Daemon paid him no attention. Rather, he sighed, and with an expression of relief to rival the worst actors in King’s Landing, took a single step toward his daughter. “Arianwyn!” he cried, “How relieved I am to see you unharmed!”

Tearing her eyes from Brynna’s ruined hands, Arianwyn stared at her father, brow furrowed in bewilderment.

She had been harmed, and he was the one who had done it.

“Stay away from my wife,” Aemond growled, circling around his new father-by-law until he stood protectively between him and Arianwyn. He could feel the fiery rage in his heart hot on his breath, and could swear he heard Vhagar roaring in the distance.

“Was it not enough for you to steal my dear Laena’s dragon?” Daemon asked, brow crumpled with false heartache and a voice loud enough for everyone in the Throne Room to hear his words clearly. “Now, you must take my firstborn daughter, as well?”

“I have stolen nothing,” Aemond hissed, angling the point of his sword to Daemon’s neck. All it would take was one motion, one cut, and the Rogue Prince would never harm Arianwyn again. “Can you say the same, uncle?”

“Prince Aemond put down your sword!” Otto bellowed from the throne. “There will be no more blood spilled in this hall!”

But Aemond did not move, save for a twitch of the muscle in his jaw. Gods, his scar was blazing. It had not hurt like this since the night it was given to him.

“Despite that pin on your breast, Otto, you have no right to rule in this. It is a family matter,” Daemon spat, dropping his besieged father act.

Otto did not yield an inch, speaking calmly, with all the authority of the Iron Throne. “Indeed. Concerning my grandson and my great-niece. And seeing as how, in his absence, I speak with the voice of the King – your brother and Prince Aemond’s father –I have every right to rule on this family matter. Don’t you agree, Lord Wylde?”

The Master of Laws jumped slightly when his name was called, but he quickly collected himself and answered, “Yes, my Lord Hand.”

The only hint of Otto’s smugness was the nearly imperceptible twitch of a smile on his lips. “With that matter settled, we can begin the proceeding. Prince Aemond, I will not repeat myself again. Put. Down. Your. Sword.”

Against all instinct and every nerve in his body, Aemond obeyed. Though he did not sheath the blade, nor did he move away from his wife.

Alicent finally moved away to the door to the foot of the dais, joining a concerned Helaena and a hungover but intrigued Aegon.

As she passed Rhaenyra and her children, the Princess and the Queen exchanged a look that Aemond could not decipher.

The Hand sighed, gesturing with an open palm to Brynna. “Grand Maester, for the love of the Mother, will you please tend to this poor woman?”

Daemon seethed, “That ‘poor woman’ has attacked a Prince of the Realm!”

“I have not!” Brynna shouted.

“She did not!” Arianwyn yelled simultaneously, with such a cold fury that she was sure she bore icy claws. Emrys’s howling echoed through her mind as she pulled away from her maid, only enough to allow Orwyle the access he needed to assess her wounds.

Orwyle examined Brynna quickly, then looked back to Arianwyn and gave a slight smile. She will recover, he seemed to say. She may not be the same, but she will recover.

But Arianwyn’s heart was hollow, and she could not return the gesture. Brynna would not recover if she was soon executed.

Once he was satisfied that Brynna’s wounds were being tended to, Otto lowered himself upon the Iron Throne. “Prince Daemon,” he said, “If you are quite finished with your performance, the Crown will now hear your accusation.”

Daemon bit the inside of his cheek, mulling over whether to respond to the Hand’s remark. Deciding against that, he once again painted his face with fatherly concern. “After our family meal last night, I went to check in on Arianwyn. She had been so upset when she left, after seeing her dear brother attacked by none other than the man who had treated her with such unabashed vulgarity all evening.”

Arianwyn looked up at Aemond, begging with wet eyes for him to speak in his own defense. But he only continued to glare at Daemon, for the comforting thought of spilling his uncle’s blood was the only thing distracting him from the pain searing through his very skull.

Unchallenged, Daemon continued. “When I reached her rooms, this woman,” he pointed at Brynna as he spoke, drawing the court’s attention to her, “was at the door. She would not allow me entry to my own daughter’s chambers.

“First, she told me that Arianwyn was unwell. Then, that she was asleep. When she had run out of excuses, I demanded she stand aside to let me through. But she would not. So, I went to push past her. That is when she took her shears and did this.” He tossed the bloodstained iron shears to the floor, and tore off the linen wrapping around his right hand before raising it above his head for all to see.

A large gash was visible in the space between his thumb and forefinger. As Daemon turned to present his hand to those behind him, Aemond was gratified to see the wound was wide enough for a beam of sunlight to shine through the hole. When this was over, he would have to congratulate his wife on a job well done.

“I, of course, was able to subdue her even with the wound, and she quickly revealed the sinister scheme.” Daemon grinned at Aemond as he went on, “The Prince here paid her quite handsomely to sneak him into our guest quarters, that he might steal her away for his own. He forced Septon Eustace to wed them. And then, I imagine, he raped her so the marriage could not be dissolved on account of a failed consummation.”

Arianwyn’s mind was spinning. From the audacity of Daemon’s lies. From her disbelief that in the face of such slander, Aemond continued to stay silent. From the conflicting whispers swirling around her.

“The most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.”

“Look at the cold look in his eye. He knows he’s been exposed.”

“I have known them since they were children. Prince Aemond could never hurt her.”

“He should be gelded without delay, and sent to the Wall to rot.”

A thousand thoughts raced through her mind. How could they believe such lies? Daemon’s own demons were well known, as were Aemond’s virtues. At least, they had been when she had left the capital. What had changed since then, beyond the scar now marking his face?

If enough of the court was so quick to believe Daemon’s story, what could she possibly say to sway them?

Her only salvation was that it was the Hand sitting the Iron Throne, not the King.

“An interesting story, my Prince,” Otto said, not a hint of emotion or bias in his voice. “Though I am afraid I find myself with several questions regarding its details.”

Daemon scowled, unable to keep the disdain from his eyes. “And what, pray tell, are your questions?”

“I think we should start at the beginning, don’t you? With Prince Aemond’s behavior at the King’s dinner.” Otto raised his eyebrows, the only hint of his confidence. “You see, my Prince, I was seated closer to him and Arianwyn than you were, and yet I saw no such evidence of molestation, attempted or otherwise.”

When Daemon opened his mouth to counter him, the Hand simply continued, “Though I may be mistaken. Perhaps we should ask the Princess Helaena, who was herself seated at Arianwyn’s side, what she saw?”

Daemon scowled, but did not object as Alicent encouraged Helaena.

“My sweet girl,” the Queen whispered, “can you tell us what you saw between Aemond and Arianwyn?”

Helaena, at last seeming to realize where she was, glanced between her brother and his wife. When she saw Arianwyn crying on the floor and Aemond clutching his sword, she looked mildly concerned at their predicament. “I saw love, gentle and true. As it has always been.”

For a moment, the Princess smiled proudly, but it faded as a shadow passed over her lilac eyes. “Shattered glass,” she murmured, “the silver shards sharper than the blunt point of the broken blade.”

Not even Daemon had a clever answer for the seemingly meaningless words.

But in the silence that followed, Arianwyn looked closely at her cousin as the fog cleared from Helaena’s eyes. At the dinner, she had said something about a cloak – a white cloak – in the moonlight.

Had she somehow known?

Perhaps more importantly, what did she know now?

“But these are the small details of your tale, Prince Daemon. Indeed, they may be crucial to its veracity, but whether or not a lady was molested can be quite easily mistaken by even the most perceptive among us.” A tentative laugh went up among some of the gathered crowd, and the Hand let it run its course before he continued.

“Let us focus instead on the larger picture. For that, it seems we are missing the most important testimony. Arianwyn?”

Otto’s question broke her from her musings on what Helaena’s words might mean. He tipped his chin, and she was surprised to find reassurance in the gesture. “Please stand and tell us what happened – but speak only the truth.”

Those words, spoken to her once before, long ago, brought Arianwyn back to the Throne Room on Driftmark. She was kneeling at Aemond’s side, pressing kisses to his trembling hand only moments after his eye was taken. She could feel Rhaena’s nails scratching her skin, the heat of Aemond’s fresh blood flowing through her fingers, and her aching chest wheezing for breath. She was drowning in desperation as she begged the King to believe her tale.

How had it come to this again?

“Aemond has done nothing untoward,” she said as she stood on shaking legs. How she wished he were within reach so she could hold onto him for strength. “Nor has Brynna. But the Prince and I are indeed wed, and our union has been consummated – willingly.”

As she spoke, Arianwyn felt her confidence grow. She steadied herself and stepped towards Aemond, lacing her fingers through his. He startled at the touch, for she had approached him from the left. But he relaxed and sheathed his sword when he saw the plea in her eyes.

“Septon Eustace can attest to the veracity of the marriage,” she said, looking only at her husband. “My household guard, Grand Maester Orwyle, Ser Criston Cole, and my maid Brynna, all bore witness. Orwyle confirmed the consummation this morning.”

When Daemon scoffed, Otto held up a hand to silence him. The Prince looked for a moment as though he may argue, but he was pulled back by his own wife taking his hand. Rhaenyra gave him a stern look, whispered something in his ear, and he stilled.

“My dear, why wed in such haste? And in near complete secrecy?” Otto asked.

Arianwyn considered her words carefully. She knew Otto wanted her to tell the court everything – but he could not possibly know what he was asking.

Someday, Daemon would pay for his crimes. But today, all Arianwyn wanted was to free Brynna and remain by her husband’s side.

“Aemond and I have been in love these many long years, even when separated,” she said. The truth, even if she had only just learned it. “We did not want to wait any longer for our families to negotiate a marriage contract or allow them to promise us to anyone else.”

That was a lie. But by the faces in the crowd, it was at least a good one.

“I apologize for any pain our impatience has caused,” Arianwyn continued, bowing her head toward Alicent, Helaena, and Aegon. “We have deprived our family of seeing us wed and all the celebration that comes with it.”

Aegon smiled, raising his brows, “I had but one chance to bring my brother’s wife to bed, and I have missed it,” he muttered.

Suppressing a grin, Arianwyn went on. “We married out of love, my Lord Hand. There is no more to say than that.”

The Hand again smiled at her, “Thank you, Arianwyn.”

She began to curtsy, but Aemond held her still. “You are a Princess now,” he murmured, “You need not bow to him anymore.”

“Septon Eustace,” Otto said, turning to face the man, “You performed the marriage?”

The Septon nodded. “I did, my Lord Hand.”

“And did the Lady Arianwyn show any reticence during the ceremony? Did she appear nervous or afraid?”

“No, my Lord Hand,” Eustace replied. “She was as happy as any bride I have ever seen. Happier, perhaps.”

Arianwyn blushed, squeezing Aemond’s hand. She could feel his heart racing through the contact and wished desperately to calm him. But he would not be satisfied until Brynna was free, and Daemon was not.

He was a dragon who had caught the scent of his prey, and he would not let it go free.

“Grand Maester,” Otto now plainly bore a smile as he turned to Orwyle, “can you indeed confirm the consummation?”

“I can indeed, my Lord Hand.”

“And can anyone else attest to Brynna Taler’s presence at the ceremony?” The Hand glanced around the room until he found twelve knights clad in bronze armor.

But it was Ser Criston Cole who answered. “I can, my Lord Hand.” He looked to Prince Daemon with an expression of pure disdain. “I would swear my sword to it.”

“I thank you, Ser Criston, but I wager that will not be necessary.” Otto finally smiled as he swept his eyes past Arianwyn to his grandson. “Prince Aemond, is there anything you should like to say to the court?”

Aemond finally tore his eye away from Daemon, gaze softening as he looked upon Arianwyn’s beautiful, hopeful face. There was much he wanted to say. He wanted to tell the whole court – the whole world – of Daemon’s crimes. He wanted to see him arrested and face the Father’s justice. And when he was executed, he wanted to be the one to swing the sword.

But Arianwyn saw it all on his face, every sinful thought he had. She pulled him towards her, wrapping her hand around his wrist, and shook her head.

“No,” Aemond sighed. “Only that everything my wife has said is the truth.”

The Hand turned back to Daemon, “Well, my Prince. It seems that matter is settled. But there is still the question of your wound. Would you care to offer the court another explanation as to how you were injured?”

The Rogue Prince was practically steaming with rage. The sight awoke a feeling of sinister pleasure within Arianwyn’s heart. That feeling, combined with the strength she drew from her husband’s touch, had her hands moving to the stole around her neck before she could think better of it.

“Perhaps he could explain this as well,” she said, pulling the fabric from her throat and exposing her wounds for all to see.

A gasp rippled through the crowd at the sight of her bruises, and the anger in her father’s eyes sharpened. Arianwyn only smiled.

Daemon snarled, “The work of your new husband, obviously.”

Arianwyn laughed. A light, blithe chuckle – wholly out a place at such a solemn occasion. “I think you’ll find my husband’s hands too large to make such small marks,” she said with an animalistic tilt of her head.

Aemond suddenly felt the urge to take her, right there and then. She had always had such fire within her, though it was rare that she let anyone but him see its glow. How he longed to burn in that delicious fire.

On the Iron Throne, Otto smiled proudly at the newest Targaryen Princess. He had thought her as harmless as Helaena, but perhaps she would prove more of an asset in the days to come. “Well, Prince Daemon? Have you any explanation for the court?”

Daemon only sneered before Rhaenyra stepped in front of him, cutting off whatever biting remark he surely had planned.

“I think we have heard more than enough,” Rhaenyra said, the same forced diplomacy in her voice as the night before. “I suggest, my Lord Hand, that we dismiss this matter entirely, as the unfortunate result of an excess of wine at dinner.”

Otto nodded, content in his victory – one more trueborn Targaryen, and one more dragon.

“Grand Maester Orwyle,” he commanded, “please take the lady Brynna to the Rookery tower and give her your greatest care. Dear lady, you have the sincere apology of the Crown, as well as my personal assurance that you will be compensated for your troubles.”

“Thank you, my Lord Hand,” Brynna said. Then, with the aid of the Maester, Brynna stood and curtseyed. Then, as she was led out of the Throne Room, she flashed a quick grin at Arianwyn – a promise that she would find her soon and that she wanted every detail of the bedding.

Arianwyn was practically overcome with relief. As her breath heaved, she felt the warmth of Aemond’s hand holding hers climb up her arm and spread throughout her entire body. Aemond focused on the feel of her pulse slowing, the pain in his face fading with each beat of her heart.

For long moments, the only sounds in the hall were the gossiping whispers of the court. Those who could not believe that Daemon had lied were evenly matched with those who could not believe Aemond had gotten away with his crimes.

But they were soon silenced when Rhaenyra again spoke. “My Queen, my Lord Hand. I thank you for your kindness and hospitality. But I am afraid we must now take our leave.”

“We hope to see you again soon, Princess,” Alicent replied, sincerity in her eyes.

With a quick nod, Rhaenyra turned her gaze to Arianwyn and Aemond, giving a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Before we go, I would like to offer my best wishes to my dear stepdaughter and her new husband.”

Aemond again tensed, but Arianwyn kept her grip on his hand firm. “Thank you, stepmother,” she said without returning the smile.

Rhaenyra stood in silence, apparently expecting the same grandiosity for the departure as she had for her arrival. But just as before, she would not receive it. So finally, after several awkward minutes, she relented and led her family from the hall.

Only Baela stayed behind to embrace her sister before going. “I am so happy for you,” she whispered.

“I will see you soon,” Arianwyn promised. “Perhaps for your own wedding?”

Tears coming to her eyes, Baela only grinned and nodded before following her family out of the Throne Room and the Red Keep.

Though she was surrounded by her family – the true family she had missed for so long – Arianwyn felt a sliver of emptiness creep into her heart as she watched her sister leave.

But then she felt her husband’s strong arms wrap around her, and all was right.

“If you would excuse us, my Lord Hand,” she said, not looking at the man atop the Iron Throne but at Aemond’s lips. “But my husband and I have yet to break our fast, and I find myself feeling quite hungry.”

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