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queers-gambit · 1 year ago

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Mother Knows No Bounds

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female!reader -> technically Velaryon!wife!reader, but you can pick and choose

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 5.7k+

note: 10,000 points to your Hogwarts House if you can find the Lord of the Rings quote

warnings: cursing, vilified!Alicent, Aemond needs his big brother. descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, toxic family being toxic; um is this technically neglect? abuse? potentially triggering description of medical phenomenons, i guess OC Aemond ?

please note again and do not proceed if you are triggered by any of the following content: descriptions of potentially triggering content: miscarriages, natural abortions, involuntary termination, depiction of medical procedure.

you are not missing anything by skipping this, please value your comfort!

The city had come to a screeching halt the moment extreme temperatures skyrocketed, citizens unable to bear the scorching sun during waking, working hours. It was only the brave, stupid, poor, or accommodated persons that dared venture about their lives when the heat index had tripled; silent, since the heat was so sweltering, nobody wanted to add to it by talking. Even the animals were quiet and scarce around the streets, most seeking shelter under any shade they could find.

Women skinny dipped. Children ran around without their clothes. Men forewent any and all armor, most even going shirtless.

The guards were on short patrols and constantly rotated to try and save them from heatstroke. The fishermen all left port to spend time on the water since it was cooler than being on land. Whores wore less than ever before. Vendors constructed makeshift fans for their own air current.

The temperature spike was truly murderous. At dusk, gravediggers traveled the city with a bell and horse-toted cart, announcing if anyone wanted their dead disposed of, now was the time. The heat caused any elderly to dehydrate, their hearts simply stopping; and for young children to overheat and catch too-high fevers.

It was a dreadful time to be alive in King's Landing because the city had next to no coverage, so, the sun beat down on citizens in a suffocating, unbearable, offensive manner. None stood a chance: the young, old, rich, poor, everyone was a target.

For some reason, the fat Lords of the Realm had demanded the King hold court to voice their complaints; temperatures making many operate on short fuses. However, due to his sickly, deteriorating state and wicked weather, King Viserys was unable to sit the Throne; the responsibility falling onto the Hand of the King, Otto Hightower. And because she was Queen, his daughter, Alicent was always in attendance.

Yet for some reason, she had sent guards and servants to retrieve her children - including you.

You'd been married to Aemond about 21 months, and while a seemingly short time, certain single days felt more like three when loved by a man you considered your best friend. You had known the One Eyed Prince back when he had no need for an eyepatch, sapphire, or silly nickname, and for years, you were decent friends before growing to attach at the hip. He was kind, sweet, intelligent, and best of all, he was a wildly good listener. Even as a child, he didn't talk too much, but still more than he did now; and all his life, he was simply a listener. It made for a peaceful and trustworthy marriage.

21 months of marriage, and now, (almost) 7 months pregnant.

Aemond was over the moon with pride, joy, and excitement when you told him the news. He was eager to meet the babe, and the moment he learned, Aemond started gathering whatever material and furniture he could. He commissioned 11 Septas to knit a series of baby blankets; most with Targaryen colors and / or design. Otto was happy to see his grandson looking forward to married life, and Helaena was elated for you both. She's always liked you like a sister, always thought you were kind, just, and fair, with a healthy balance of being stubborn - all topped off with heaping loyalty. To everyone's surprise, even Aegon sincerely offered congratulations to you both when you broke the joyful news, telling you and Aemond he was excited to meet his newest niece or nephew.

However, amongst the fanfare and triumph, two women remained permanently dismayed by the entire marriage that the prospect of a child genuinely angered them.

The first woman was your mother, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, but she was annoyed simply because she knew the Targaryen Curse was real and thought this was not something you should endure. You were her firstborn, her brightest star, her dearest love; she worried herself to the brim about you, and while she respected your marriage, she's never offered approval.

The second woman was Aemond's mother, Queen Alicent Hightower, who chose to silently seeth to herself (for a time) instead of voicing any opinion or emotion. Years ago, she and your mother were the closest of friends, and after she married Viserys, Alicent lost her friend and the tension has only festered from there. However, now that Rhaenyra was living on Dragonstone, you were the only person close enough to take the brunt end of Alicent's anger and she found new ways to project that. Simply put, she despised you - but she would've hated whoever "took" her (unofficial) favorite child "from" her; who became the leading lady in his life. Alicent's anger was justified, but only towards Rhaenyra - not you.

Yet communication and emotional intelligence was rare in this day.

Alicent knew you were innocent of everything. Yet somedays, she could not restrain her anger and would lash out like a dog chained-up; but you had thick skin. You always endured her quick jabs, sharp tongue, and snarling insults because you loved and respected Aemond too much to bite back at his mother. However, while most days, Alicent was amicable, some days, she was a downright bitch, and other days, she was absolutely diabolical.

Alicent's anger took over and when this happened, she was powerless towards impulse; resulting in usually terribly stressful events that honestly have no business being so fucking stressful - or even further, by becoming catastrophic. For example, years ago, when Luke cut Aemond's eye from his socket, she took the King's dagger from his person and tried to attack Rhaenyra. She ended up slicing the Crowned Princess' forearm, but far more damage was already done, and nothing would ever be the same.

Alicent's anger often blinded her and drove her to impulsive decisions or reactions, and this today, in this heatwave, she went too far.

You were sat in your bedchambers, Aemond at your side as you both listened to a sweating Grand Maester; both your hand and your husband's resting on the curve of your pregnant belly.

"Now, remember, Princess, in these conditions, it's important to lay low for the sake of your health and the baby's. Don't be on your feet in the heat too long, don't exert yourself, drink more water than you usually would, and rest as much as possible." He handed you a tea bag, explaining, "For the nerves before bed."

"Thank you," you agreed, taking what he offered. Aemond saw the Grand Maester out of your chambers as you sighed, using a handheld fan to wave cooler air over your face.

"It's criminal, this heat. Gotta get someone in here with a fan," Aemond mumbled to himself, leading you to a lounge chair to rest on. "Can I get you anything, sweet love?"

"Water, if you'd please," you smiled.

He agreed and stood, but just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Come in," Aemond permitted, moving to the table in the room to pour you a goblet of water. The guard who entered wasn't known to you by name, but Aemond greeted him casually, "Ser Mythos. What do we own this pleasure?"

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Do you know why?" Aemond grit.

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"I've asked you why."

"The Queen's requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince."

"Fuck's sake," you snapped, "we heard you! Yeah? Gods," you cursed, head tilted back in annoyance; eyes squeezing shut as your child kicked your bladder.

"The Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Lady and my Prince."

Aemond glanced at you, sighed shortly through his nose, then turned to Ser Mythos to snap, "I will be along shortly, but my wife was told to rest in this heat for our baby's health. We'll need palms brought in for fanning."

"And the Queen has requested you both in the Throne Room, my Prince, both of you. Both, my Prince, both."

Your eyes rolled, telling Aemond, "I think the Queen wants us both, my love." Then shifted your glare towards the messenger, sounding as tired as you looked, "All right, fine, fine, fine, fucking fine, give us a moment to dress and we will be there presently."

"My Lady," the guard accepted, turned, and left the room.

"What could Mother want with us both?" Aemond snipped at you when the door shut with an echoing-clang.

"Does it matter? She's called for us," you frowned.

"They can at least call you by your proper title - we are married now. You are a Princess of the City, they should address you as such."

You waved him off, "Who cares about that? C'mere. Help me up, my love, please. Your kid's sitting heavy."

You and Aemond dressed for court in thin clothing before fixing your hair so it didn't cling to either of your necks. It was already far too warm to even think properly, and surely, nobody would judge if you attended court with your hair pulled up, nor judge Aemond for the fashionably bun you convinced him to wear. No make-up was used, no heels; no corset, nor any pinch of leather. Aemond didn't like the last bit, but you were stern in your worry, telling him that leather would retain his body heat and today was already stifling enough.

When ready, you vacated your chambers and walked to the Throne Room, seeing it filled with a sizable crowd that surely would do nothing to help the sticky heat hanging in the air. Aemond held your hand tightly with his head held high to lead you towards his mother, who stood at the base of the Iron Throne. When close enough, Aemond asked, "You called for us, Your Grace?"

"I did," she eyed you both. "This is a good learning opportunity for you both, I thought it best we were all here."

"Mother, it's too hot for - "

"We are all suffering the same heat," she cut Aemond off.

"Yes, but my wife is pregnant, Mother. The Maester told her to rest, not stand in court with a hundred bloody people."

"You mean to tell me she has a higher priority than - "

"Yes. That is what I am saying, Mother. My wife certainly has priority over everything else as far as I am concerned."

Alicent shook her head, "For as long as we hold places in court, we will attend court. All of us, as a united family. Now, pay attention, you both will hold places here after King Viserys, best you know this all now."

So, you stood there like an obedient dog as slowly, one person after another approached the Throne to tell Ser Otto Hightower their grievances. They yapped up all the advice and court rulings; Aemond standing at your side, and while he was listening to what was being said, he also kept an eye on you out of sheer worry. There was no air to blow, no window to open; mediocre fans and palms brought in to manually wave by a few sets of servants. Yet it wasn't enough.

Sweat bulleted on brows. Pale cheeks flushed with heat. Legs started to shake from stress. Clothes dampened and clung to skin.

You were all of the above and then some!

The heat felt criminally offensive, and you knew you wore your displeasure on your face. Discomfort while pregnant isn't easy to hide, your hand smoothing over your belly as you exhaled a slow, calming breath that did literally nothing to aid your tangible anger. The common folk still reported to Otto, but you knew this was far from over, trying to blink back your discomfort as your stomach churned; twisted; started to cramp with increasingly stabbing pain. The heat festered a headache and soon, the nausea set in.

Taking another deep, long breath, you focused on the man complaining about his neighbor stealing his crops, his silver, and how the other man was fucking his wife - in his very own barn! The man asked for permission to sentence the neighbor to trial by combat, and for the life of you, you could not understand why you needed to be present for this.

Another farmer came up, saying there were too many maggots in his fields and needed the King's coin to bring in specialized mulch for himself and all the farmers in all of the Riverlands - who were plagued by this contagious maggot infestation.

Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place came up and asked for an increased patrol of "the King's Men", sell swords sent to "keep the King's peace." A group with radically different tactics than Daemon's Gold Cloaks.

This "Some Lord of Some Lineage From Some Castle of Some Place" even presented his daughter, saying she was fit to marry the Prince Aemond. Eyes turned to you and for whatever reason, you felt embarrassed by the sudden attention. So, you shied away from it, shifting slightly closer to Aemond as Otto spoke with a bored expression, "Prince Aemond is wedded already. As is his brother, Prince Aegon."

"What 'bout the li'l one?"

"Pardon?" Otto blinked.

"The Queen's last son?"

"With respect, my Lord, our son is still a child learning the ways of the world and is no way fit to marry quite yet," Alicent cut in, your feet going numb and making you sway slightly. "The Crown has learned from other marriage pacts to examine all offers carefully," but Alicent's sharp words flew over your head as something in your stomach pinched sharply like a severe period cramp. Your breathing came out in shudders; holding onto Aemond securely as he looked down at you with worry.

Your entire face, neck, and chest glistened with sweat. It clung to your hair, raced down your chest, and when he got a closer look, he didn't like the discoloration to your skin. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong...

"Then it shall be a long engagement so you might consider my daughter well!" The Lord barked, laughing gruffly. "She is not a disappointment, my Lord Hand."

"The Crown will consider your offer, Lord Peregrin, but the Crown must weigh other presented offers before marrying young Prince Daeron to anyone," Otto spoke diplomatically.

"Aye, I'll offer her dowry. Twenty thousand good men for your army, and I can spare about 500 Gold Dragons."

"Our army? Are we at war?" Otto faked a chuckle, your vision starting to blur but you refused to cause a scene. Your mouth had cotton in it; tongue sticking to your roof and your cramps were getting worse. You sweat so much, it was running down your neck, forehead, shoulders, lips, thighs, chest.

"Well, no, perhaps not in this moment, Lord Hand - Your Grace - but we know the rumors about the King's lineage," the Lord spoke boldly, making your blood boil, but the pain was over-powering your ability to speak. Tears actually coated your eyes. "Prince Aegon should be named the rightful heir to the Throne, so, if the time comes that he needs an army, my daughter's marriage to Prince Daeron would guarantee those men and swords."

Otto sighed as you gulped harshly, wincing in pain, a single tear rolling down your cheek. The cramping intensified, the bolts of pain setting your muscles on fire and radiating into your organs - or so it felt like. The Throne Room was too hot for you to withstand much longer; there was no water, and you'd been standing there going on three hours. Not to mention, you had been throwing up terribly violent in the night and mornings, meaning, you were probably (very likely) very dehydrated and that wasn't good for you nor the baby.

The longer you stood there, the sicker you felt. The longer you stood there, the more Aemond worried. The longer you stood there, the more time you had to develop a strong resentment towards Alicent. Your hand went to your belly, trying to regulate your breathing, but even your dress gave you away - sweat darkening the hemlines. Since finding out you were pregnant, you and Aemond agreed you would no longer wear corsets, and for a whole weekend, he took you to Highgarden to visit the tailors. They created a whole new "maternity wardrobe" that was loose but still womanly by being formfitting. They were made of breathable material, since Highgarden was tropical and often warm; and Aemond adored the sight of your bump.

"Aemond," you whispered, your husband looking down at you but so did Alicent. "I'm not feeling well, my love. I-I need to sit, I need water."

"We're almost done - "

"This is not the time to distract everyone," Alicent snapped quietly at you. "Focus, and let Aemond focus, too, he's the Prince. You don't need him for your every whim."

You only nodded and closed your mouth, clearing your throat of emotion, knowing something didn't wasn't right. It was more than a gut feeling now, you just inherently knew something was wrong. Disconnected. Short circuiting.

The hall was too hot.

Stifling hot. Suffocatingly hot. Stuffy sort of hot.

Overwhelmingly hot.

Hot, hot, hot, hot, hot, so fucking hot!

Your nausea got worse to the point you were going to hurl at any moment. You know that feeling? C'mon, yes you do! You start to feel a little shaky, then your mouth starts "sweating" (or watering) and you even get a little clammy; maybe you even start to look gaunt? Maybe your skin changes color? That feeling? Yeah, that's exactly what was happening!

So, to keep calm, you just start taking long, deep breaths. The last thing you wanted to do was panic when surrounded by so many members of court... Then something that felt like urine raced down your inner thighs, yet you barely noticed it, too distracted with keeping upright. Blood puddled beneath your skirts on the stone but nobody noticed yet. More Lords came and went, some Ladies, more and more farmers with trivial disputes. Fathers, sons, uncles, neighbors, you name it!

However, to your earnest shock, when a particularly amusing man came to speak to the King('s Hand), Aegon had glanced at his brother with an amused smirk, but caught sight of you, requiring a double-take. "Brother," Aegon turned from his 'front row seat', showing a rare moment of emotion by looking concerned at your being. "Oh, Gods, fuck," he worried, looking ready to extend his arms to you.

"Fuck," Aemond breathed, turning you to face him. "Can you hear me, sweet love? Hey, hey," he spoke your name, "can you hear me?"

But it was as if you were in a trance. Waves crushed over your ears, sweat rolling down your skin, appearing clammy and as if not in your own body. Aegon jolted forward when your eyes rolled back in your head, knees buckling, forcing your husband to catch you before you began your descent to the ground. When he caught you, it revealed the blood from under your skirts, and when Aemond got you on the ground, he realized your legs were coated in slick, mucus, and both dried and fresh blood; indicating you had been bleeding for hours.

"Call the Maester!" Aemond barked. "Get the bloody Maester!"

"She's bleeding," Aegon pointed out.

"I have eyes to see, brother, I know she is bleeding!" Aemond snapped, his panic tangible. "Love! My sweet love, please, open your eyes, please. Fuck's sake, please, open your eyes - let me see them. Sweetheart, please, c'mon - FUCK! Brother! Brother, help, please, there's blood! There's too much blood! Aegon! What do I do!? Aegon, please! What do I do!?"

"Let her breathe, brother, the Maester's are coming, it's gonna be all right, I-I've heard this can happen. Okay? Just gotta wait for the Maesters, Aemond," Aegon nodded, reaching a hand to his younger brother's shoulder in comfort. Otto descended the Throne to get a closer look as guards surrounded your unconscious body and Aemond's panicked, kneeling form.

"What happened?" Otto demanded.

"She passed out," Helaena frowned in worry, looking as if tears would soon fall. "And there's blood - she's been swaying, I-I think she was ill."

"It's the heat," Aemond snapped, tears down his cheeks. "We were told she needed rest in this temperature, but no." His glare turned to his mother, "We were both expected here."

"You saw the Grand Maester?"

"We did."

"He told her to lie down?" Otto asked, looking and sounding confused.

"To rest," Aemond nodded, supporting your limp head and neck.

When the Grand Maester arrived, he wasted no time in demanding your limp form be brought to his chambers for monitoring and examination. Aemond picked you up and carried you, leaving everyone else behind - or so he thought. The Maester spent a grand total of 43 minutes conducting diagnostic tests, and when the last exam was brought up, he asked Aemond to step out of the room as the examination would turn more intimate.

When Aemond stepped out, he was surprised to see Aegon and Helaena standing there. Aegon instantly pushed off the wall, asking, "Well? How is she? What's happening?"

"One last test," Aemond answered in a low mutter. "What're you doing here?"

"We wanted to make sure you were both all right," Helaena, his sweet sister, answered.

"Mother didn't demand you stay?"

"No, Mother actually called an end to court," Helaena told Aemond. "Grandfather was very angry."

"He was?"

"Never seen him like that," Aegon agreed, telling Aemond of the words Otto raged at Alicent.

When the chamber doors opened, Aemond was invited back inside. He took to your side instantly, but there was a knowing look in your eyes. You never looked at the Maester, only at your husband, as it was explained that due to the heat, you had become dehydrated over time and then spending the day in court, it was just too long a time being on your feet without water or fresh air. You had toppled over the side of heat stroke, the lack of hydration causing you to involuntarily miscarry.

The child would not grow and for your safety and health, the Maester would have to preform essentially what is an abortion to eliminate exposure to rot. Aemond blinked in astonishment, feeling confused about the turn of events, but when he realized you weren't able to respond, he looked at you.

He made the decision, seeing tears streaking your cheeks and the dead look in your eyes.

You were prepped for the procedure and while the Master tried to escort Aemond out, nobody was able to move him from his place at your side. It took the better part of an hour, but when it was over, not only were you given an additional dose of Milk of the Poppy, but Aemond was also given several vials for you in the coming days. He was also given a plethora of herbs, spices, remedies, salves, therapies, and treatments; being given explicit instruction and detail about all he was given, being told when to use what to best help you.

Aemond stooped to pick you up, again, refusing to let anyone else touch you, and the Grand Maester held the door for him. Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, and Otto were all revealed, but Aemond didn't even so much as blink at them; whatever life might've been left lurking behind his eye being completely snuffed out. He made a direct beeline for your chambers with the intention to let you rest in a soft, familiar bed for however long you needed, but he was followed by his family and knew this would be anything but a peaceful time.

"L-Love?" You whimpered when your husband laid you on your marital bed. "Aemond? Aemond?" You asked a little more frantically, being soothed swiftly.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart," he hushed, ignoring the audience; one hand holding yours as the other pet your hair back. "Hey, just breathe for me, darling, I'm right here. I've got you."

"I-I might be sick," you complained in a whisper, eyes unable to open as sweat bulleted on your skin.

"'S all right," he assured, grabbing a basin to leave on the bed beside you so he could sit at your side. "'M right here, you're not alone."

Aemond watched the way you harshly gulped, a hand dragging up to press to your belly. "W-What happened?" You mumbled, making his heart clench. "I just... There was a lot of heat and then pain." Your eyes finally opened to meet his, "I remember pain, Aemond."

With a glance up at his family, Aemond told you stiffly, "You remember correctly, love. The, uh... The heat was too much for you to handle, sweet girl, and that wasn't your fault." He took a long breath, clutching one of your hands in both of his, "But it was just too much. We couldn't save them... We couldn't save her."

"I-It was a girl?"

"It was," Aemond confirmed, reaching for your other hand to hold tightly. "And you didn't do this. Hmm? You hear me? This is not your doing."

"But my body - "

"No," he refused with a harsh tone. Realizing you were not the one to take his anger out on, he cleared his throat, "Sorry, love, I just," he took a breath. "Listen to me, okay? No, my sweet love, we were told to rest - you and I were told this heat was too much for the babe and that you would need rest. We meant to, we had every intention to follow the Maester's orders, but..." Another pause as he fought off the emotion clawing through his chest. "But for some reason, royal obligation was more important than our family, and Mother refused to let us miss today's court appearance."

"Huh...?" You breathed, still relatively drowsy from the day. But the emotion was real, your husband saw your pain. "What're you talking about, love? Aemond? What's - What the hell happened to our baby? Where's our baby?"

Aemond's jaw steeled and a tear streaked down his cheek as he forced himself to explain, "The Queen demanded our attendance in court today. And standing in the heat for hours cost us our daughter's life. I am so sorry, my sweet love, but we do not have our daughter because she is... She isn't in your womb anymore," his hand laid over your belly, your own automatically following. "She can't ever join us, our family," he spoke slowly, then tearing his glare away from your tired figure to his mother, sneering, "because my mother can't let go of a decades-old feud with a woman no longer living in this very city."

"Aemond," you whispered, heart shattered in your chest but still managing, "do not take this out on her."

"No?" He snapped, still glaring at his mother but clutching your belly, "If not for her, our daughter would still be safe in her mother's womb and we'd still have the chance to one day hold her. But no," he spoke as slowly as he stood to his feet, pulling his hands away from you, "no, we were unjustly denied that chance."

When her (favorite) child faced her with such hatred, dread, distraught, soul-sucking eyes, Alicent frowned with tears in her own eyes. She had so much to say, but only managed, "I did not intend for this."

"This hatred you feel for Rhaenyra is literally costing lives! For the love of all the Gods, my wife is nothing like her mother! They are not one in-the-same, this does not make her your new target to unleash Hell upon - she has done no wrong and yet suffers these heinous consequences!"

"I did not intend for this! You must know that!" She repeated in desperation. "I only wanted you both to partake in your duties - soon, you will be the ones conducting business at court and you must be readied for what may come!"

"That does not give you the right to forfeit her health!"

"How was I to know - "

"The bloody Maester told us - but evidently, the word of the trained professional is not good enough for you!" Aemond raged, something in his heart snapping. "We are denied the right to meet our daughter because, what? What is it? You cannot reach Rhaenyra right now so you will take the closest thing - being my fucking wife!?"

"Aemond," Otto tried to step in, "perhaps this is getting out of hand."

"It was already out of hand," Aegon defended with a sharp snap, "the moment the Maester was ignored."

"You refuse to respect us," Aemond snapped at his mother, everyone silencing themselves when another tear fell down his cheek. "You refuse to respect us, to listen, and all for why? You think you know better than the Maesters? Or because she is daughter of Rhaenyra?"

"Aemond," Alicent warbled through her tears.

"You've gone too far," his head shook, devastation taking hold, "and I do hope you find deliverance from the Gods, because from me? I do not see how I can find a shred of ability to forgive such a sin."

It was quiet. Helaena's head was bowed, Aegon glared at his mother like Aemond; Otto frowned as he avoided all eye contact.

Imagine everyone's surprise when bare feet padded over the stone ground, two shaking hands raising to press into Aemond's stomach from behind. "My love," you mumbled softly, "please, do not speak so hatefully in this prolonged grief. We will do all we can do now and pray on this, but if we want to heal, we will need to learn to forgive. This was not a malicious, thought-out plan executed in partner with the co-conspiring weather; it was a terrible circumstance that the Gods have chosen us to endure. Your mother can pray for forgiveness, she's owed that right; and we will say our own, but I know that one day, we will be blessed and bring a child into this world. Because it's you and I, Aemond, and our child would be the full embodiment of the purest, truest love - and for something that perfect, we'll need time." You took a breath, looking sickly, gaunt; eyes full of tears as you ended, "But it is not this day."

Aemond turned to wrap his arms around you, insisting, "You should be resting." When he got you to turn to move for the bed again, he snarled at his mother, "She's the one who just lost a child and yet still defends you."

"Perhaps it's best we leave them alone," Aegon recommended. "We'll have meals sent for you both," he told his brother with a meaningful nod. "You both just take your time."

"Thank you," Aemond sighed, easing you back to the mattress; laying a single, thin sheet over your body. When Aegon had ushered everyone out, Aemond just stared down at you for a long moment, sighing sadly and whispering, "I'm so sorry, sweet love."

"Just lay with me," you requested.

He moved to strip himself of his linens, the heat still sweltering, and laid beside you; instantly cuddling you into his bare chest. Aemond knew you didn't want to talk, but this needed said, and he whimpered, "This is my fault."

"What?" You gaped, looking up at him in shock. You quickly pulled his leather eye patch off to force his full attention, holding his cheek and demanding, "What did you just say?"

"If you and I did not marry, if I had not pursued you - courted you," he shook his head, brows crinkled from restrained sobs, "we would not be in this position, you would not know this pain. We knew the tension in our family, we knew the hatred between our mothers, and still I wanted you. This is my fault, I shouldn't've done this - you should not have to endure this."

Your hand reached up to caress the side of his face; foreheads pressed together to breathe the same air, warm the same space, sweat onto one another, but never wanting to be apart. It was a sticky embrace but you both needed it, and you hushed, "I regret nothing about us. Nothing, Aemond. If I knew how this would play out, I'd do it all again because I know I love you beyond words. Beyond," you giggled lightly, "rational thought, even. Aemond, everything you are, I adore, and all we are together is... It's the greatest pleasure of my life. My greatest honor."

"I do not deserve a woman like you."

"Perhaps not," you teased, "but you have me anyway. And what do we do with rare women, my Prince?"

His lips found yours in a sweeping kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. When he pulled back, he whispered, "We love them well."

A week later, King's Landing would find relief from the unwavering, record-breaking heatwave - only to be blasted by a wave of dragon fire. It was only then the Prince Aemond was seen with his wife for the first time since "The Throne Room Incident", and both were dressed in the traditional color of funerals: black.

You were bestowed an incredibly small bundle of black cloth, and with the rest of the Royal Family following, ventured to a distant hill where a funeral was to take place. Because your daughter was still so very tiny, she was laid in a fiery basin with only you and Aemond to preside over; offering prayer in High Valyrian. He held you close, the wind from the coast whipping all clothing around, and just behind everyone, Vhagar landed with a distinct thundering thud.

You didn't move, staring into the flames.

Aemond looked back, and when Vhagar saw the tears in her master's eye, noting the way he turned back to comfort you and grieve over your daughter, the dragon roared. A roar so loud, it was heard from the Riverlands. A roar so powerful, it shook the ground they all stood on. A roar so terrible, it made a few throats swell in emotion. A roar so sad, ballads would be written about it.

King's Landing might've been relieved from the weather's temperature, but as Vhagar felt her master mourning his daughter, she released an angry flame into the air that the citizens all felt.

For years, on the contrary, the entire city would feel Prince Aemond's cold shoulder to his mother, Queen Alicent, but for now, the heat of grief demanded to be felt.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

#aemond targaryen #aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen x f!reader #hotd #hotd imagine #house of the dragon #hotd x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen angst

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catofoldstones · 8 months ago

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I don’t get it. Why did Alysanne marry Daella and Viserra to old men who already had heirs? They were princesses in their own right. Surely they could’ve done better than dead-in-childbirth-at-18 and tried-to-seduce-her-own-brother-to-escape-four-times-widower-only-to end-up-dead. Then she allows her 11 year old granddaughter Aemma to marry an 18 year old Viserys only to suffer the same fate as her mother. Good Queen sure, but good mother?

#fire and blood #is a test of my patience tbh #alysanne targaryen #daella targaryen #viserra targaryen #aemma arryn #viserys targaryen #f&b #valyrianscrolls #:/

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novaursa · 3 months ago

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The Dragon's Right (11)

- Summary: It was by grace of the gods that firstborn child of Viserys I and Aemma was born a boy and he lived. And all of the rest, scholars will later say, is by power of something more malevolent in kind.

- Paring: male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

- Word count: 5 800+

- Previous part: 10

- Next part: 12

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

The Sept near Casterly Rock was a grand structure, its towering spires reaching high into the sky, casting long shadows over the golden hills surrounding the Lannister stronghold. The sun was bright in the sky, its warm rays cutting through the otherwise somber mood that lingered inside the Sept itself. The vast interior was filled with the nobility of Westeros, all gathered to witness the union of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Jason Lannister. It was an event that had drawn powerful lords and ladies from every corner of the realm, eager to see one of the most important political marriages of the age.

The Sept was decorated lavishly, with red and gold banners hanging from the high arches, the Lannister colors boldly displayed alongside the dragon sigils of House Targaryen. Flowers were strewn along the aisles, filling the air with their fragrance, a stark contrast to the heaviness of the occasion. Seated in the front rows were the most prominent figures of the realm, their faces a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, but there was an undercurrent of tension beneath the gilded ceremony.

Jason Lannister stood at the altar, dressed in the finest silks and gold, his lion sigil prominently displayed on his chest. His posture was proud, his expression smug, as though this marriage were another jewel in the Lannister crown. His twin brother, Tyland, stood beside him, his face more composed, though his eyes gleamed with quiet satisfaction. Jason’s gaze, however, frequently flickered toward the entrance, waiting for the arrival of his bride. It was clear he took great pride in having won the Targaryen princess, even if she had not come willingly.

Whispers echoed through the Sept as the ceremony was about to begin, the lords and ladies murmuring to one another, casting curious glances toward the entrance. They had heard the rumors, of course—rumors of Rhaenyra’s defiance, of her refusal to bow to the will of the Crown and be married off like a prize. But here they were, all gathered to see it happen, to see if the wild princess could truly be tamed.

Suddenly, the great doors at the far end of the Sept swung open, and all eyes turned as Rhaenyra Targaryen entered.

She was resplendent in a gown of deep red and black, the colors of her house, the fabric embroidered with intricate dragons that seemed to swirl around her as she moved. Her hair, pale as silver, was pulled back into an elaborate braid, adorned with small gems that caught the light. The gown flowed around her like molten fire, her figure regal, but it did nothing to soften the sharpness in her expression.

Her face was set in a mask of cold defiance, her violet eyes scanning the crowd with thinly veiled contempt. She walked slowly down the aisle, her steps steady, but each movement carried a weight of rebellion. She was not walking toward her future; she was walking toward her doom, and everyone present knew it. Her gaze flickered toward her father, King Viserys, who sat near the front, his expression one of barely concealed disappointment. Rhaenyra shot him a sharp look, filled with anger and betrayal, the tension between them palpable even from a distance.

The whispers grew louder as she approached the altar, her displeasure clear for all to see. It was no secret that she had been forced into this marriage, and her rebellion was written in every step she took. She refused to look at Jason Lannister, whose smirk remained firmly in place, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. To him, this was victory.

As Rhaenyra reached the altar and stood before the Septon, her hands clenched tightly around the bouquet of flowers she held. Her chest rose and fell with the weight of her fury, but she kept her composure, her face set in stone. The Septon stood before them, draped in the white and gold robes of his office, the Seven-Pointed Star gleaming on his chest. He raised his hands, his voice loud and booming as he began the ceremonial rites.

“Before the eyes of gods and men, we gather to join this man and this woman in marriage, to bring together the houses of Targaryen and Lannister,” the Septon intoned, his voice echoing through the great hall.

But even as the words filled the Sept, Rhaenyra’s mind was elsewhere. She barely heard the Septon, barely registered the murmurs of the crowd, the weight of her situation pressing down on her like a boulder. Her eyes flicked toward her father again, her heart burning with resentment. How could he have done this to her? How could he have forced her into this farce?

Jason glanced at her, his smirk widening as if he could feel her resistance, and Rhaenyra clenched her teeth, her grip tightening on the flowers until the stems dug into her skin.

Suddenly, there was a loud thud from above, and the entire Sept seemed to shudder. The ground beneath their feet vibrated, and dust began to fall from the high ceiling as the massive structure groaned under the sudden impact. Gasps of shock and alarm rippled through the crowd, lords and ladies looking around in confusion.

“What was that?” someone whispered, their voice filled with fear.

The Septon paused, his eyes widening as he looked up toward the ceiling, where more dust and debris began to trickle down. The Sept shuddered again, the sound of stone grinding against stone filling the air. The once orderly crowd began to stir, whispers growing louder as panic started to take hold.

“Something’s on the roof!” a man shouted from the back, his voice trembling.

Jason Lannister’s smirk vanished, replaced with a look of confusion as he glanced at his brother, Tyland. “What in the Seven Hells is happening?”

Rhaenyra’s eyes snapped upward, her heart pounding as she felt the familiar rumble in her chest. The ground beneath her feet trembled again, and this time, the shaking was stronger, sending more debris falling from the ceiling. The crowd, sensing the danger, began to rise from their seats, voices rising in panic.

Another thunderous impact rocked the Sept, and now it was clear—something massive had landed on the roof, and whatever it was, it was not gentle. The ancient stone groaned under the weight, cracks beginning to form along the arches of the ceiling, and the once majestic hall began to crumble.

The Septon backed away from the altar, his voice trembling. “This… this is an omen…”

But before he could finish, a loud, piercing roar echoed through the air, shaking the very foundations of the Sept. Panic erupted, people screaming and scrambling toward the exits as the ceiling above began to crack and crumble, chunks of stone falling to the floor.

Rhaenyra stood frozen for a moment, her eyes wide, her heart racing. She knew that roar.

And she knew exactly what—or rather, who—had just arrived.

The piercing shriek of a dragon cut through the panicked cries inside the Sept, echoing off the stone walls as if the very gods themselves had arrived. Rhaenyra’s heart leaped in her chest at the sound—it was unmistakable. Silverwing. You had come, just as you had promised all those moons ago. The ground beneath her feet trembled with each movement of the great dragon above, the stone walls groaning under the immense pressure. Chaos erupted around her as lords and ladies screamed, scrambling for the exits, their finely embroidered cloaks and gowns tangling as they tried to flee.

Rhaenyra's eyes darted around, searching for a way to escape the suffocating madness. She had to reach you. The ceremony was forgotten, the image of Jason Lannister and the Septon dissolving into the chaos. Without hesitation, she pushed past the panicking nobles, her heart racing as she ducked through the panicked crowd. She could hear her father’s voice shouting her name over the din, “Rhaenyra!” but she didn’t stop.

She had no time for explanations. All that mattered was getting to you.

Behind her, Jason Lannister shouted as well, his voice rising in anger, “Where do you think you’re going, Princess?” He lunged forward to follow her, but the crowd surged between them, cutting off his path.

The Kingsguard, stationed near the aisle, saw her running and immediately gave chase. But Daemon, standing casually near the edge of the Sept with his arms crossed, watched the chaos unfold with amusement. As the guards ran past him, Daemon shifted subtly, stepping in just the right way to trip them. One guard stumbled into a pillar, his armor clattering against the stone, while the other fell flat on the floor, his sword sliding across the polished marble. Daemon smirked and gave Rhaenyra a small nod, knowing she would understand. He wasn’t letting anyone stop her today.

Rhaenyra pushed through the grand doors of the Sept, her breath coming in short gasps, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. The sunlight hit her face like a slap, the chaos of the Sept replaced by the sight of Silverwing descending, her massive wings outstretched, stirring up the dust and dirt around her as she landed just outside. You were atop her, your silver armor gleaming in the sunlight, and the sight of you filled her with a sense of relief so strong she almost forgot to breathe.

You locked eyes with her as Silverwing let out another fierce roar, sending waves of heat into the air as her claws scraped the ground.

"Brother!" Rhaenyra gasped, running toward you as if her life depended on it. The wind from Silverwing’s wings whipped through her hair, but she didn’t stop. She had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity.

“Rhaenyra!” you called down, your voice filled with urgency as you extended a hand to help her up onto Silverwing’s saddle.

Without a second thought, she took your hand, her fingers gripping yours tightly as you hauled her up, pulling her onto the saddle behind you. Her gown tangled beneath her as she climbed, but she didn’t care. The feel of the leather beneath her and the solid presence of Silverwing’s powerful body beneath her legs was enough to make her forget the world below.

“Hold on!” you shouted over the sound of Silverwing’s wings beginning to flap, preparing to take flight once more.

Before Silverwing could ascend, a roar echoed from the skies above. Syrax. Rhaenyra turned her head just in time to see her golden dragon soaring overhead, her wings outstretched as she circled, waiting for her rider to follow. A bond between dragon and rider that could never be severed.

From the doors of the Sept, Viserys stumbled out, breathless, his hand clutching his chest as he tried to call after his daughter. “Rhaenyra!” he shouted again, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and anger. His health had been deteriorating, and the strain of running out of the Sept left him gasping for breath, but he pushed forward, determined to stop her.

The king halted abruptly as he saw you, his son, for the first time in two long years. His face was a mixture of shock and disbelief as he stared up at you, sitting tall atop Silverwing. The reunion he had imagined was not like this. His eyes, wide with emotion, met yours for a brief moment, and in that glance, you saw everything—relief, sorrow, and the knowledge that things had changed far more than either of you had expected.

Alicent rushed to his side, her gown sweeping the ground as she took her place next to the king. Her breath hitched as her gaze shifted from Viserys to you, her eyes widening with realization. You had returned—but not for her. No, you had come for Rhaenyra. For your sister, for the woman you had always protected. She knew then, in that instant, that whatever hope she had harbored of your affection, whatever foolish dreams she had let linger, were gone.

Her face twisted in a mixture of shock and resentment, though she hid it well, standing dutifully at Viserys’s side. She had been left to endure her fate in silence, to bear the weight of the crown’s decisions without complaint. But Rhaenyra, as always, had found a way out.

Silverwing’s wings beat heavily as she lifted into the air, the powerful gusts of wind scattering dust and leaves across the courtyard. The people from the Sept, now spilling outside, watched in awe and terror as the great dragon ascended into the sky. Syrax let out another piercing roar as she followed closely behind, her golden form cutting through the clouds.

You turned to look at Rhaenyra as the two of you soared higher, away from the madness below. Her arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, her face buried against your back, but you could feel the tension in her body begin to ease. She was free now, at least for a moment.

“You came,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice barely audible over the wind. “I knew you would come.”

“I made you a promise,” you replied, your voice steady as you guided Silverwing higher into the sky, away from Casterly Rock, away from the Sept. “I’ll always come for you.”

Rhaenyra tightened her grip on you, her heart racing, but for the first time in months, it wasn’t from fear or anger—it was from relief. Together, you and Rhaenyra flew, with Syrax trailing close behind, the roar of the dragons echoing through the skies as the people below watched in awe.

The Sept of Casterly Rock, once filled with nobles and royalty, now stood silent and stunned as the two Targaryens flew away, leaving nothing but whispers of rebellion in their wake.

The winds howled around Dragonstone as Silverwing descended onto the rocky terrain near the ancient Valyrian chapel, her massive wings folding with grace as she landed softly on the ground. The air was thick with the scent of the sea, and the sky above was a deep shade of crimson as the last rays of sunlight dipped below the horizon. The island felt almost otherworldly, shrouded in mist and history, a place of old magic and forgotten traditions.

Syrax followed shortly, her golden form cutting through the sky before she landed on a high perch, her piercing eyes watching over her riders with a protective gaze. The dragons, majestic and powerful, seemed to sense the gravity of the moment, their usual restlessness subdued as if in reverence to the events about to unfold.

You dismounted Silverwing first, your boots sinking into the loose gravel as you turned to help Rhaenyra down. The flight had been long, and the winds had battered her appearance, her once-perfect braids now unraveling, her gown wrinkled and slightly torn. But to you, she was still as radiant as ever. She looked up at you, her violet eyes filled with emotion, a mixture of relief, hope, and love. It was the first time you had truly looked at one another in two long years, and in that moment, the world seemed to stop.

Your hand reached out, fingers brushing gently against her cheek, caressing the soft skin as if to reassure yourself that she was real, that this moment was not a dream. Rhaenyra leaned into your touch, her breath catching in her throat as your eyes locked, the intensity of your shared bond clear in the silence between you.

“I’m here,” you whispered, your voice low but firm, as if the words held all the promises you had made and kept. “I’m always here for you.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she quickly composed herself, her lips curling into a soft smile. “I knew you’d come.”

You held her gaze for a moment longer before you gently took her hand in yours, guiding her toward the ancient chapel that stood on the cliffside, overlooking the churning sea below. The chapel was old, far older than any other building on Dragonstone, its architecture a testament to Valyria’s glory, carved from black stone with intricate designs depicting dragons and flames. It had been abandoned for centuries, used only for the rarest and most sacred of Valyrian rites.

Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of incense and saltwater. The flickering light of torches illuminated the stone walls, casting long shadows that danced like ancient spirits. At the far end of the chapel stood the Dragonkeeper, an elderly man whose skin was weathered by time, his long silver hair tied back in a neat knot. He wore the traditional robes of old Valyria, a deep shade of crimson and black, with a silver dragon embroidered across his chest.

He greeted you both with a solemn nod, his eyes filled with the weight of tradition and duty. “Prince Y/N, Princess Rhaenyra,” he said, his voice gravelly but reverent. “You have come to be wed in the ancient rites of our ancestors.”

Rhaenyra stood beside you, her hand still firmly in yours, her heart pounding in her chest. This was what she had dreamed of—the only marriage she had ever wanted. Not to Jason Lannister, not to any of the suitors her father had paraded before her, but to you, the brother who had always stood by her, protected her, loved her.

The Dragonkeeper gestured for you both to step forward, toward the altar, which was adorned with ancient Valyrian relics—dragons carved from obsidian, vials of dragonfire, and a single silver chalice filled with wine. The flames of the torches reflected in the obsidian, creating an almost ethereal glow that bathed the entire chamber in an otherworldly light.

“By the old customs of Valyria, where dragonlord and dragonrider were bound not only by blood but by fire, you stand here today to unite your lives,” the Dragonkeeper began, his voice echoing through the empty chapel. “Fire and blood, as it has always been, will seal your bond before the gods and dragons.”

He extended his hands toward you, and from a hidden compartment within his robes, he produced a small dagger—the blade was Valyrian steel, its edge sharp and gleaming in the firelight. He handed the blade to you, his eyes locking with yours. “As is tradition, your blood will bind you.”

You took the dagger in your hand, its weight familiar and ancient, and turned toward Rhaenyra. She met your gaze with unwavering trust, her eyes never leaving yours. Without hesitation, you gently took her hand, holding it steady as you pressed the blade to her palm. The sharp steel cut through her skin with a precision that was both swift and ceremonial, a single drop of blood welling up from the wound.

Rhaenyra didn’t flinch, her eyes burning with determination as she watched you. You handed her the dagger, and she did the same for you, the blade gliding across your palm, a mirror of the mark you had made on her.

The Dragonkeeper stepped forward, holding the silver chalice beneath your hands. “Blood of the dragon,” he intoned, his voice low and reverent, “from the same bloodline, from the same fire.”

Together, you pressed your hands over the chalice, letting the blood drip into the wine, mixing with the ancient liquid as the flames around you flickered and danced. The Dragonkeeper took the chalice and raised it above his head.

“From this union of fire and blood, let no man tear you asunder. By the will of the gods and dragons, you are now one.”

He lowered the chalice and handed it to you. You took it in your hands and brought it to your lips, tasting the metallic tang of the blood mixed with the wine. Then, you handed it to Rhaenyra, who drank deeply, her eyes never leaving yours.

The Dragonkeeper stepped back, his hands raised in final blessing. “You are wed. Let the dragons bear witness, and may your union be strong, unbroken by time, as Valyria once was.”

As the final words were spoken, the air in the chapel seemed to hum with an ancient power, a presence that filled the space around you, binding you and Rhaenyra together in a way that no other ceremony could.

You turned to her, your hand still clasped tightly in hers, your hearts beating as one. Her face, despite the disheveled state caused by the flight, was radiant, her violet eyes gleaming with a mixture of triumph and love. Without a word, you leaned forward, pressing your forehead against hers, a gesture more intimate than any kiss. In this moment, words were unnecessary.

“I love you,” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice barely audible, as if the very walls of the chapel were not worthy of hearing such a declaration.

“And I love you,” you replied, your voice thick with emotion.

The ancient flames flickered as you pulled her closer, your hands still intertwined, the bond of fire and blood sealing your union as husband and wife.

Outside, Silverwing and Syrax roared in unison, their mighty cries echoing across the cliffs of Dragonstone, the sound carrying on the wind like a herald to the gods.

The Valyrian wedding had been completed. The blood of the dragon was bound once more.

The grand courtyard outside the Sept was a flurry of stunned and panicked nobles. The once-anticipated wedding of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Jason Lannister had dissolved into chaos in a matter of moments. Eyes lifted to the sky, where Silverwing, with Rhaenyra and you on her back, flew higher and higher, disappearing into the distance toward Dragonstone, Syrax trailing close behind. The sound of Silverwing's powerful wings still echoed faintly in the air, but the shock remained heavy in the courtyard.

King Viserys stood rooted in place, his hand resting on his chest as his breath came in labored gasps. His gaze was fixed in the direction of his children’s departure, his eyes distant as if already resigned to the inevitable. He had watched you fly away with his daughter, both of you slipping from his grasp like sand in an hourglass. His children—both of them, so intertwined by blood and fate—had rebelled together, and now they were gone.

Jason Lannister emerged from the Sept, his face red with fury, his hand clenched so tightly around the hilt of his sword that his knuckles turned white. His twin, Tyland, stumbled out behind him, still dazed from the sudden turn of events, his usually calm demeanor shattered by the sight of you taking Rhaenyra away. Jason's eyes blazed as he stormed toward Viserys, his voice loud and full of indignation.

“Your Grace!” Jason spat, his voice carrying across the courtyard. “I demand that my bride be returned to me! This is an insult to House Lannister. I will not stand for it!”

Tyland, his composure slowly returning, reached out a hand to his brother, trying to calm him. “Jason…” he began, but Jason shrugged him off, his fury unchecked.

Before Viserys could respond, Daemon Targaryen, who had been standing off to the side with Lady Laena Velaryon at his arm, let out a scoff loud enough to draw the attention of those around him. His silver hair gleamed in the sunlight, and his smirk was as sharp as ever as he stepped forward, his arm loosely draped around Laena’s shoulders.

“Your bride?” Daemon drawled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It seems, Lannister, that my nephew came for what was his and took it. He did what any dragon would—he claimed what belongs to him.” His violet eyes gleamed with amusement as he surveyed the angry Lord Jason. “You should be thankful this farce is finally over.”

Jason's face turned even redder, veins bulging in his neck as he glared at Daemon. “I will not tolerate this mockery! Rhaenyra was promised to me!”

Daemon chuckled, the sound low and mocking. “Promised? By whom? Your coins and titles? Dragons do not care for gold, Lannister. My nephew and niece have decided their own fate, it seems.”

Laena stood beside Daemon, watching the exchange with a cool expression. She was poised and composed, clearly more intrigued than surprised by what had unfolded. Her dark eyes flickered toward the sky where the dragons had disappeared. “It seems the dragons have chosen their own path,” she murmured, almost to herself, her lips curving into a faint smile.

Otto Hightower stepped forward, his face tense, his mind already calculating the ramifications of what had just occurred. He turned toward King Viserys, his tone carefully measured but insistent. “Your Grace, this... act of rebellion by your children cannot go unanswered. If we do not act swiftly, the realm will begin to question your authority. House Lannister will not be the only one demanding answers.”

Viserys remained silent, his gaze still fixed on the distant horizon. The weight of his crown and the crumbling control over his family weighed heavily on him, the burden etched into the lines of his face. He could feel the eyes of his council on him, waiting for his decree. Waiting for him to bring order to this chaos.

“Your Grace,” Otto pressed, his voice more urgent now. “If there is any chance of changing Rhaenyra’s mind, of preventing her and your son from... doing something that could destabilize the realm, we must act. Now. We cannot allow this defiance to go unanswered.”

Jason, still seething, nodded in agreement. “The crown must uphold the promises it has made, Your Grace. House Lannister demands retribution for this insult.”

But before Otto could continue, Viserys lifted a hand, silencing the crowd around him. His face was pale, his hand trembling slightly as he took in a slow, deep breath. His eyes, weary and filled with sorrow, finally turned toward Otto and the assembled nobles.

“No,” Viserys said quietly, but with finality. His voice, though soft, echoed in the stunned silence that followed. “I will not stop them.”

The nobles exchanged shocked glances, whispers immediately breaking out among the gathered lords and ladies. Otto’s mouth fell open slightly, and Jason’s expression turned to one of disbelief.

“Your Grace,” Otto began, trying to keep his voice level, “this is not—”

Viserys cut him off, his voice firmer this time. “I will not chase my children down like criminals. My daughter… and my son… have chosen their path. And I will not stop them.”

Jason stepped forward, his voice rising in frustration. “This is madness, Your Grace! You’re allowing your heir to defy your will and to steal away with the woman promised to me!”

But Viserys didn’t respond to Jason. His gaze remained distant, filled with a deep sadness, as though a part of him had already accepted what had transpired. His hand, still trembling, fell back to his side, and he turned away from the gathered nobles, the weight of the crown heavier than ever.

Otto’s face tightened with frustration, but he didn’t dare press further. The king’s decision had been made, and despite the chaos it would surely cause, Viserys was unyielding. The silence that followed was deafening, save for the whispers of the lords and ladies who could scarcely believe what they had just witnessed.

Daemon, standing off to the side, let out a low chuckle, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Well,” he said, his smirk widening as he turned to Laena. “It seems the crown is more flexible than we thought, my love.”

Laena raised an eyebrow but said nothing, her amusement mirroring Daemon’s.

As the crowd began to disperse, the tension still thick in the air, Otto stepped closer to Viserys, his voice lowered so that only the king could hear him. “Your Grace, this will have consequences.”

Viserys glanced at him, his expression one of quiet resignation. “It always does, Otto.”

But for the first time in a long while, Viserys had chosen to side with his heart rather than his crown. And the realm, for better or worse, would have to live with the consequences of that decision.

The air in your chambers at Dragonstone is filled with the scent of fire and salt from the sea that laps at the fortress’s shores. A soft, golden glow flickers from the hearth. The chill of the evening is driven away by the warmth of your body, of her body, and the moment you've both craved for so long stretches before you, heavy with anticipation.

Rhaenyra stands before you, still adorned in the remnants of her Valyrian wedding attire. The delicate fabric clings to her figure, and you can’t help but marvel at her beauty, your wife now, in every sense. Her pale hair cascades like molten silver over her shoulders, loose and wild, a stark contrast to her earlier regal appearance. Her violet eyes, so much like your own, burn with intensity as they meet yours.

It has been a long road to this moment — years of stolen touches, whispered confessions in darkened corridors, and glances that lingered far too long for any brother and sister. You’ve always known, though. From the moment you both understood what it meant to be Targaryen, to be dragonkind. Bound by fire and blood.

Yet, it was tonight — after the ceremony, after the sacred words spoken in High Valyrian — that the weight of the bond truly settled upon you both. You are husband and wife now, joined in the eyes of the gods of Old Valyria.

And now, finally, here you stand, ready to consummate that bond in the most intimate of ways.

Rhaenyra steps closer to you, her fingers trembling slightly as they reach for the clasps of your tunic. You catch her hands gently, your thumb brushing over her knuckles.

"You need not rush, Rhaenyra," you say, your voice low, thick with the emotion of the moment. "We have all night. We have forever."

She smiles at that, a rare softness gracing her lips, though there’s a hint of something else in her gaze — something vulnerable.

"I know," she whispers, stepping closer still, so close that the warmth of her body reaches you. "But I’ve waited long enough to have you like this, truly. I don’t wish to wait any longer."

Her hands slip free of yours, and with careful, deliberate motions, she begins to undo your tunic. The fabric slips from your shoulders, revealing the hard planes of your chest, the scars that mar your otherwise flawless skin, souvenirs of the battles and skirmishes at the border of Dorne. Rhaenyra’s eyes trace them, her fingers following the paths of old wounds.

Her touch is reverent, and she says nothing for a long while as she explores your body. Her fingers linger on the deepest of scars, the one that runs across your abdomen, the memory of an enemy's blade.

"This one," she murmurs, her hand pressing lightly against the raised flesh. "Does it still pain you?"

"Not anymore," you reply, your hand coming up to cup her face, lifting her gaze to meet yours. "Not when you touch it."

Rhaenyra’s breath hitches at your words, and you see the desire in her eyes deepen. She leans into your touch, her lips parting as she exhales a shaky breath.

"I am sorry," she whispers, her voice trembling with the weight of the confession. "Before you left for Dorne, we argued. And I regret it."

"I know," you say, brushing your thumb over her lower lip. "But it doesn't matter now. This is where we were meant to be from the start."

She nods, a tear escaping her lashes, though it’s not one of sorrow. You kiss it away, tasting the salt on her skin as your lips move to her cheek, her jaw, and then finally her mouth. The kiss is slow, languid, a promise of what is to come. Her hands are in your hair, tugging gently as she pulls you closer, her body pressing against yours, warm and soft.

You can feel her heart racing beneath your touch, and yours beats in time with hers as you guide her back toward the bed, the silken sheets cool beneath your fingers as you lower her onto them. Rhaenyra watches you with half-lidded eyes, her chest rising and falling with anticipation as you strip away the last of your clothes.

When you turn your attention to her, you take your time, untying the intricate knots that hold her gown in place, layer by layer. She shifts beneath your touch, her body trembling with each brush of your fingers, until finally, she is bare before you, the soft glow of the fire casting her skin in a golden hue.

"Beautiful," you murmur, your voice reverent as you kneel before her.

She reaches for you, her fingers curling around your wrist as she pulls you down to her, and you follow willingly, pressing your body against hers, the heat of her skin igniting something primal within you.

For a moment, neither of you move. You simply lie there, holding each other, breathing in the scent of each other’s skin, feeling the steady thrum of life between you.

"You’re mine," Rhaenyra breathes, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "And I am yours."

You answer her with a kiss, deeper this time, more urgent, your hand sliding down her body, feeling the curve of her waist, the softness of her hips, until you reach the place where she is already warm and wet for you.

She gasps into your mouth, her nails digging into your back as your fingers slip inside her, her body arching beneath you.

"Please," she whispers, her voice strained. "I need you."

And so you give her what she asks for, positioning yourself between her legs, your heart hammering in your chest as you finally press inside her, slow and steady, until you are fully seated within her warmth.

Rhaenyra lets out a soft cry, her hands clinging to your shoulders, and for a moment, you both simply hold still, lost in the sensation of being joined, of finally being one.

Then you move, gently at first, then with increasing urgency as the need to feel all of her overtakes you. Rhaenyra meets your movements with equal fervor, her body rising to meet yours with every thrust, her cries growing louder with every passing moment.

The room is filled with the sound of your bodies, the crackle of the fire, the soft whisper of your names on each other’s lips.

When you finally reach the edge, you bury your face in her neck, your teeth grazing her skin as you spill yourself inside her, her body trembling beneath yours as she follows you into bliss.

You stay like that for a long while, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies still connected, your breathing slowly returning to normal.

"I never want this to end," Rhaenyra murmurs, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on your back.

"It won’t," you promise, pressing a kiss to her temple. "This is just the beginning."

And as you hold her close, the two of you tangled together beneath the warm embrace of the dragonlord's legacy, you know that you will keep that promise. You are bound by fire and blood, and nothing, not even the gods, will tear you apart.

#house of the dragon #hotd x reader #hotd #hotd x y/n #hotd x you #rhaenyra x y/n #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra x you #rhaenyra x male reader #hotd rhaenyra #rhaenyra targaryen #silverwing #syrax

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anyca786 · 2 months ago

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"Realm's Beauty : Daenys Targaryen"

Daemon Targaryen x sister!Targaryen (eventually Daemon Targaryen x sister/aunt!Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen)

Warmings: contains incest/ targcest, poly relationship, age-gap, mature themes and contents, explict language, violence/abuse, blood/gore, death, birth, marriage, and the usual GOT and HOTD warnings

Daenys Targaryen, the youngest sister of King Viserys I and Prince Daemon, was a tempestuous soul who yearned for the open sky and the thrill of adventure.

Daenys' life took a dramatic turn when she witnessed the harrowing childbirth of her niece, Rhaenyra. The pain and suffering endured by her sister-in-law, Aemma, deeply affected her. Daenys made a solemn vow never to marry, fearing the same fate for herself.

With Nyx, her black scaled dragon at her side, she soared into the heavens and disappeared towards the North.

Now, Daenys has returned to King's Landing. The once unruly princess had matured into a woman of striking beauty and strength. Her beauty, enhanced, captivated the hearts of many in the city and court. Common folks called her "Realm's Beauty."

Daemon found himself drawn to her in a way he had never expected. Whether it was lust or a deeper affection, Daenys's return had ignited a spark within him that would forever change the course of their lives.

Only time will tell.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Season 1

Chapter 1: Pilot "IT IS GOOD TO BE HOME"

Chapter 2: "DRAGON'S EMBRACE"

Chapter 3: "YOU'RE A MENACE, DAEMON TARGARYEN"

Chapter 4: "COME WITH ME"

Chapter 5: "WE SHOULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS."

Chapter 6: "YOU'VE BOTH MATURED YOURSELVES THESE PAST FEW YEARS."

Chapter 7: "WHAT IS THIS PLACE?"

Chapter 8 "WED HER TO ME"

Chapter 9 "DOES ANYBODY TRULY EVEN KNOW DAEMON TARGARYEN?"

Chapter 10 "I WANT YOU BOTH"

Chapter 11 "TEN YEARS CAN CHANGE EVERYTHING"

Chapter 12 "NOW THAT DAEMON AND I HAVE YOU, WE'LL NEVER LET YOU GO"

Chapter 13 "I WON'T LET ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU OR OUR CHILD"

Chapter 14 "I THINK I'M GOING TO DIE"

Chapter 15 "THERE IS SOMEONE WE WISH TO INTRODUCE YOU TO"

Chapter 16 "SAY IT"

will be continued...

#daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x reader #hotd daemon #hotd #daemon targeryan #rhaenyra targaryen #house targaryen #oc #tumblr #rhaneyra targaryen

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paulyenvol6 · 2 months ago

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Byka Atroksia (Chapter 11)

Contains: detailed smut, p in v, unprotected sex, degrading, praising, possessiveness, inappropriate behaviour between uncle and niece, power imbalance

Wordcount: ~3.29k

Masterlist of this story

The next day you woke up and with joy noticed that the pain in your belly had fully vanished and you felt filled with energy. You were still bleeding and it was uncomfortable but compared to the sorrow yesterday, it was a relief.

While your handmaiden Nysah took care of your hair you had time to let your thoughts fly and of course they immediately clung to Daemon. You couldn’t help but smile and quickly tried to supress it so your handmaiden, who you had a very friendly relationship with, wouldn’t ask any questions. Daemon had been so soft and kind to you. He had genuinly wanted to make you feel better and you felt butterflies in your stomach. They way he had watched you… You had seen something in his eyes, he had cared and had been looking out for you. You saw in the mirror that your cheeks were bright red and at this point Nysah just had to ask.

"Princess. Are you quite alright? You’re face is glowing." You nodded and tried to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes. I’m fine, Nysah."

She frowned but nodded while braiding your hair. "Are you feeling better? I can tell Hewett to bring you a tea." You quickly shook your head.

"That’s not necessary. I’m fine."

Your handmaiden sighed and pulled at a strand of your silver hair. "What are you always doing in the night that makes your hair so messy? I always put your hair up before you go to sleep and yet it is so tousled."

You had known Nysah since you were born and she was a bit like a mother to you. She had taught you how to read, told you goodnight stories and had comforted you when you had fought with your sister. So you never felt like she was your servant but rather like she was a person of trust or protector.

"I’m sorry. I don’t know why they are that way.", you lied and nibbled at your thumb nail.

"Stop that, Princess.", Nysah immediately said and softly pulled your hand away. "You’re ruining your appearance if you do that." She sighed. "Well. You’re done, you can go have breakfast." You nodded and smiled at her and then quickly left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~

You were walking through the corridor with a little nervousness in your belly. You were just eating your meal when a king’s guard had entered the room and told you that your father wanted to see you. You had quickly finished your meal and now followed the knight to the King’s chambers. You had a strong idea what this meeting was about and yet you couldn’t help but feel a little anxious about what he would say to you. What if he had changed his mind?

The knight opened the door and announced your presence and then you entered the room. The rising sun lit up the room and you saw your father behind a table, leaning over it to read a piece of parchment.

"Ah. Daughter, yes. Come here." You walked towards him and Viserys gestured you to take a seat. "I have something to discuss with you."

"Of course, father. What is it?"

He sighed and sat down as well. "It concerns your betrothal with Jorlan Stark and I believe you will welcome these news partly." You frowned and pretended to think.

"The betrothal is ended. You will not marry the boy." You widened your eyes and looked at your father questioning, doing your best to act like this was new to you.

"But why?"

"You don’t have to pretend like you are not happy, Vhaela. I know that you weren’t thrilled by this. Well…"

And then your father told you what Daemon had already done except the part about the fact that this betrothal realistically couldn’t happen. You frowned, looked surprised at the right moments and then in the end crossed your arms in front of your chest.

"Mhmm.", you made. "I guess… I mean Braavos is very far away…"

"I know. And it would give me great pain to send you away, but perhaps it won’t get this far. And if it does I will make sure to send my best and bravest soldiers with you to protect you. It is hard, but as the protecter of the realm I can’t let my heart control my mind. I have to think strategically."

You nodded but tried to look a little sad. It hurt you so much to lie to your father like that but you knew you didn’t have a choice.

"Forgive me, daughter, but you have to excuse me now. I need to talk to Daemon and prepare him for his travels." You abruptly turned your head and glared at your father. "What travels?"

Viserys grabbed a piece of parchment and folded it. "He’s going to Storm’s End. He is to negotiate with Lord Orwen Baratheon to sort out what is gonna happen to Evenfall Hall after the rebellion against the Tarths. Their house is weakened and I need him to consult with the Baratheons and make sure they establish a new head of the Tarths that won’t get overthrown by these criminals again."

You slowly nodded but felt miserable. He would leave? Again?

"But why Daemon? Why are you not sending your hand?"

Viserys sighed. "Daemon has proved himself surprisingly obedient and loyal to the crown the last couple of months. I want to trust him with a bigger mission to see if he will act with responsibility and a clear head." You nodded again but felt a little numb. "It probably won’t take long. He will go on Caraxes and I believe they will figure it out within a week. Excuse me now."

~~~~~~~~~~

You spend the next week most of the time feeling bored. You strolled through the gardens, spent time with your sister but couldn’t really feel fully happy. When you were alone you daydreamed about your uncle. You missed him terribly and wondered if he also thought about you sometimes. He simply always seemed like the didn’t care about anything. Of course you knew that to some extend he did care about you but you still had this image of him being carefree, fiery and without fear or contemplation. You missed him so much that it hurt in your stomach. Ever since he had left there was something new living inside you, a demon that had wrapped its hand around your heart and squeezed it. It didn’t let you breathe freely and you felt like only Daemon could remove it. You tried to act happy and normal in front of your sister and your father but deep down you just wanted to close your eyes and open them again when Daemon was back in King’s Landing.

And after 8 days and 8 nights of suffering, it was finally time. You heard about it in the morrow while drinking a tea in the dining room with your sister and father.

"Your Grace. Lord Orwen has sent a raven from Storm’s End." Your heart jumped and you grabbed your cup tightly. You knew that nothing had happened to him, you simply knew. It was Daemon, one of the strongest and most fierce fighters in the seven kingdoms. You couldn’t imagine that any knight could possible have a chance against him in a battle.

"The negotiations are finished. Daemon is set to return before noon." Joy and happiness flooded your system and you had to surpress the wide smile on your face. You couldn’t remember feeling ever so carefree and light. He would return today. You would see him today. The whole morning you felt so full of adrenaline and literally jumped through the corridors. You had to be careful not to seem too happy so you would awake suspicion in Rhaenyra or the King but it was hard to hide your feelings.

And then, shortly after noon, you first heard and then saw it while you were unpaitenly sitting in the gardens.

"Dragon!", someone shouted and you looked up to the sky. There he was. You could only see Caraxes from far away but your insides fluttered. You quickly made your way to the Dragonpit. You ran as fastly as you could, didn’t care about your shoes or the hem of your dress that would get dirty. You ran and then found yourself standing on the grass, looking up to the sky. Caraxes landed elegantly and you saw Daemon, looking like an angel in his armour. There was no sight of Rhaenyra and your father, perhaps they were on their way to the pit right now.

Daemon took off his helmet and smirked smugly at you. Then he climbed off his dragon and walked calmly towards you. You, on the other hand couldn’t act so relaxed so you ran to him and jumped in his arms. Your sister and father weren’t here and you knew that the dragonkeeper didn’t care whether you hugged your uncle for a second or an hour. So you tightly hugged him, crossed your legs behind him and buried your face in his neck. Daemon chuckled and wrapped his arms around your back.

"Little owl.", he said against your hair and held you up to his chest. You knew that your clothes would get dirty because he was covered in dirt and mud but you couldn’t care less. After a while Daemon brought you back to your feet and grinned down at you. "That’s a very pleasing welcoming." You smiled and wished that he would look at you like this forever.

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, it was late in the afternoon, you sat in the gardens with your sister, your father and Daemon and ate cake. Daemon told about his time at Storm’s End and you had a smile on your face that couldn’t be wiped off. Your father was seemingly pleased with how his brother had acted and negotiated and seemed relaxed as well.

Then, after another hour the King left to attend a meeting with his hand and the three of your remained in the gardens.

"Uncle.", Rhaenyra suddenly smiled. "Would you like and come see the new Dragon saddle I have for Syrax? It is made of fine meereesian leather."

Your uncle slightly glared at you and you held your breath. You craved some time with him alone and now nervously wished he would be able to make it.

"Another time, yes, niece. But please excuse me for a little while. I need to rest for a bit."

Rhaenyra gulped and didn’t look delighted but nodded. "Yes. I understand."

You unconsciously bit your lip and hoped you weren’t completely off and Daemon didn’t actually wanted to be alone right now. But with one look at you, you were almost certain about what he had on his mind.

And yes, minutes later you were pressed against the wall in his chambers and his mouth devoured your neck. "I fucking missed you, little owl.", he growled and his teeth slightly pulled at your soft skin. You moaned unsatisfied because you just wanted more of him.

"Please, Daemon. Please I need you.", you whined. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and you clung to him breathing heavily. Daemon was fast, wild and impatient. Your dress was half – pulled down revealing the base of your breast and his mouth savoured your skin while his hands pressed your shoulder against the wall. When it wasn’t enough he pulled your dress further down until your hardened nipples were exposed to the air. They looked so seductive and Daemon wrapped his mouth around your left.

"Mhmm.", you wailed. After a while he moved to your right nipple while his hand took care of your left breast. He stroke your skin, massaged it while nibbing at your nipple. It drove you crazy and you wrapped your arms around his neck to make him do more.

Daemon was torn apart between diving his head between your legs to get a taste of your sweet cunt, tease and edge you and eventually get you to release for him and wasting no time and fuck you. His cock was throbbing for your hole, he was eager to insert himself inside you but licking you sounded tempting as well. In the end his cock won, though. He was rock hard against his abdomen and couldn’t wait any longer. He had to feel you around him, feel your walls clench, the warmth of you….

So Daemon kissed you on your mouth again while swiftly lifting your skirts and pulling down his trousers. Once he had removed both your undergarments he stroke his cock a few times and looked at you with flashing eyes. You bit your lip in anticipation of what was to happen now. Daemon hastily ran his tip over your wet slit and then inserted himself in you. You both moaned and you grabbed his shoulder to support yourself.

"Argh.", you whined feeling so full by his thick cock. He moved one of his arms under your arse to hold you up while his other grabbed your face and caressed your cheek.

"Look at me.", he growled when he saw your eyes fluttering and you quickly forced yourself to open your eyes again.

"You are mine, little one. You were fucking made for him. This body is mine. To do with as I please." You clenched around him at his filthy words and his thrusts were quick, hard, forceful. His tip hit deep inside you over and over again and you already knew you wouldn’t be able to walk after this and in the morrow. His hips slammed against you and you almost couldn’t keep up with his pace. You breathed heavily and just tried to keep your eyes open while getting fucked hard against the wall. His lips found yours again and he kissed the corner of your mouth.

"Touch yourself.", Daemon hissed. "On your pearl. If you want to release."

Even though your body felt so weak already you obeyed him and reached between your bodies. You managed to find the little nub and started to slowly circle it just like Daemon always did. You had never done this before but simply did what felt good to you. And it did, together with the stimulation you received every time Daemon hit that spot inside of you, you soon felt yourself being driven closer to the edge.

But then your uncle suddenly stopped slamming inside you and carried you away from the wall. His arms wrapped tightly around your back, knowing that you probably were too tired and powerless to cling to him and he laid you down on his bed. You expected him to crawl over you and continue to take you but instead Daemon grabbed your hips and manhandled you on your stomach.

"Get on your knees and hands.", he breathlessly spoke and you after you had done it, Daemon pulled you a little closer to the edge of the bed and then thrusted into you from behind, him still standing on the ground. It was a whole new feeling and you felt him even deeper. He managed to reach an area that he hadn’t been able to before and you sighed loudly.

"Oh, yes. Daemon." He took hold of your hips and moved them according to his deep pushes so they met his thrusts. He groaned loudly and threw his head back. Your walls were truly magical to him. They stimulated his cock so well and you felt so… warm and wet. Perfect for him.

Then one of his hands wandered to your lower back and he gently pushed you down on the bed. Your chest now touched the bed and you rested the side of your face on it as well. His hand wandered to the back of your head and Daemon excerted a little bit of force and pressed you into the mattress. Your moans were suppressed by it now and Daemon held you like this for a while until he moved his hand to cup your breasts. You remained like this, resting your head on the bed and felt your body move against the sheets because of his powerful thrusts and then you suddenly felt a sharp pain on your ass. Daemon had slapped your ass and then ran his hand over your skin.

"Oh, little owl. I’ll fill you up so well. I’ll fill you with my seed until it’s gonna leak out of you." Then his hand roughly grabbed your wrists and he moved it between your legs.

"Come on, I told you this already. Touch yourself if you care about releasing. I won’t wait for you.", Daemon growled and you did as he had told you. Your finger rubbed your pearl and you felt even more pleasure washing over you. You could feel his thrusts getting sloppier, messier and faster. Daemon was so close to shooting his seed right into you.

"Fuck.", he hissed and his fingers painfully dug into your hips. You increased the pace of your finger on your little pearl even more and felt pleasure running through your body. Then you suddenly clenched around Daemon and the tension released all over your body.

"Argh.", you cried out and your head weaklessly laid on the bed. Feeling your walls tighten around his cock had been the last straw for Daemon and he loudly moaned while releasing inside of you.

"Seven hells.", he sighed. "Such a good little whore you are for me.", he smirked and got close behind you to whisper against your ear. You blushed at his filthy words and smiled against the bedsheets. Then he suddenly yanked back your hair and you were pulled on your hands and knees again. He kissed your neck and gave your ass a soft slap.

"Mhmm… this cunt of yours. A fucking dream." Then he let go of your hair and you turned around to lay on your back. You watched him while he put his shirt back on and playfully shifted on his bed.

"Can I stay here tonight?", you asked with a teasing smile and Daemon couldn’t hide his smirk.

"Sure.", he spoke. "As if I would throw my precious niece out of my chambers at such a late hour." You both knew that you acted riskily and dangerously but you felt like you were on a cloud right now and everything else except Daemon didn’t feel important while Daemon naturally just didn’t care about worrying about things. He trusted that it would go fine and if it didn’t he’d had to think of something to fix it. He didn’t waste his time being frightful of what might happen and act with responsibilty so he just crawled onto his bed and you laid on your side and pressed your still undressed body against him. He gently wrapped an arm around you to pull you closer and toyed with the strands of hair that fell into your face.

It didn’t take long until he heard that you had fallen asleep and Daemon closed his eyes as well. Soon, he also felt his mind drift away but after what felt like a few seconds he woke up again. You were steadily breathing against his chest and Daemon was happy you could get some sleep at least.

After a while he knew that he needed to get some fresh air, just go on a quick stroll and then he might become tired and would be able to sleep. So he carefully removed your arm that had been laying on his chest from him and then quietly got up. He walked to the door, opened it and then headed towards the gardens.

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