#Daeron is sweet and knows the line

[dirtytransmasc]

the poor thing. I know he cries when he's mad. he's probably so pathetic (lovingly) looking, like a wet kitten.

Headcanon that Aegon was given a nickname that he absolutely hates but he gets called by it all the time

- Helaena, because she’s genuinely kind, doesn’t call him by the name. He kissed her for it.

- Aemond goes out of his way to only call Aegon by his nickname.

- Alicent is confused by where the nickname even came from and is tired of Aegon crying to her at night asking “why did you name me this????”

- Daeron will only call Aegon by the nickname when he’s trying to annoy him

- Criston had never used the nickname because he knows how much it annoys Aegon (his eldest son)

[dirtytransmasc]

Ok but what do you think the experience of teaching the kids to drive was like for Alicole? I’m literally laughing at all of the images lollll

Alicole is gonna have some grey hairs after teaching 4 kids, their kids in particular, to put it one way.

all of them are, lovingly, nightmares when it comes to driving, and they give their parents a run for their money with how many ways they can be nightmares.

Aegon's a natural driver, he's just anxious as all hell, he has no trust in people or the rules of the road to actually keep him safe, he stalls and flounder's a lot, especially when crossing lanes of traffic to get somewhere. he's convinced driving is useless the first close call he experiences, cause this is just too dangerous and there are too many variables and people are stupid. but as time goes on and he is forced to drive more and more, his parents supporting him to just let himself get used to it, he begrudgingly goes for his permit and then his license, and while he's still an anxious driver, he doesn't mind it. (he likes driving late at night on back roads, cause there's never anyone out there). he definitely choked both his mum and his dad with his harsh stops, initiating the seat belt lock as they slam into them. Criston nearly lost it when Aegon stalled out on a 5-lane intersection, they don't like to talk about it.

Helaena is very literal when it comes to rules of the road. she's definitely like me when I first learned to drive, going exactly the speed limit, trying to drive straight by making sure her steering wheel is perfectly center instead of making little corrections here and there, so she ends up going more or less diagonally at times, a little heavy on the gas. plenty of things that makes her parent's anxious, especially cause a lot of people on the road get angry about her going "so slow". but once she gets the hang of it she's a good driver, though she prefer's to be a passenger princess, as she likes to be able to continue her daydreaming, and is a bit of a speed devil. definitely listens to audiobooks and bug documentaries in the car.

Aemond took forever to learn to drive, cause he not only had to learn the basics, but he had to learn to drive down an eye and with a bunch of driving accommodations. he's really committed and not all that bad at it, his parents anxiety mostly comes from the fact that he wants to drive a big ass truck and that he is a very confident driver with multiple large pinches of road rage. it's a lot less of them trying to teach him to drive, he picked that up over night, it's trying to keep him from committing vehicular manslaughter.

Daeron, like always, as he was raised by his siblings, picked up both the best and worst of them. He's very all or nothing, he's either going smooth and fast or slamming the breaks, super focused or his head's in the clouds, can be very apologetic on the road, but if he gets pushed around too much, he's going nuclear. he's truly their source of grey hairs, after Aemond, they make him wait till like... 18 or 19 to actually get his license, and it isn't helped by the fact that he's the baby of the family, so they're naturally a little overprotective. funnily enough, when him and his siblings are doing things they probably shouldn't, he's the designated driver, even prior to him getting his license (just wait till Alicole finds out they're going to have a stroke).

the kids all stressed them out, but they love them.

Bonus: The kids and their cars.

Aegon has an older Volvo sedan, it might have been golden at one point, but the paints worn to hell, so it's now a yellowy silver color, its like his baby, not in like... a car fanatic way, but in the teenage boy with his first care type of way... there's a difference I swear. its got black leather interior that he takes care of like his life depends on it, the passenger seat is only clean of trash for his sweet sister, the outside is all sorts of dinged and scratched (mostly prior to getting it) but he still takes it to get washed every two weeks, spends an hour in the self help section vacuuming it out and using all the sprays and tools. he defintly has to do a little dance to get it driving but he refuses to get rid of it till after the babes come and they need to upsize (he kept it and planned to give it to his kids when they got older, ignoring the fact it was pothole away from crapping out).

Helaena has a white kia soul, probably from the early 2000s. she saw it at a used car lot and liked 'face' it had (I think those cars look sorta... buggy? Idk I'm not a car person, it just felt like a car she'd float towards). takes good care of it, but isn't like Aegon. she keeps it clean, gets it cleaned once a month or two, and decorates the hell out of it. Crocheted steering wheel wrap, seat belt covers, seat covers, things to hang from her rear view mirror and hand holds, etc. (all the kids had her make ones for them too) and they're all bug/nature themed.

Aemond has a huge green truck, I'm talking diesel 4-door, you have to use the footstep to get into it and even then you need to like, pull on the seat to give yourself enough momentum. this thing is his baby, in the car freak sorta way. its getting cleaned every week, he puffs it and waxes it and does all that weird 30 different products, 12 microfiber towels, and a blood sacrifice shit car guys do. it has extra mirrors for him so he can see easier.

Daeron has a jeep, his car's newer, does basic upkeep on it, but is a little rough. he likes taking her (he definitely refers to his car as 'her' and 'she' and 'my girl') off road, likes taking his dog with him (mentioned in a previous post, he has a dalmatian) after going on hikes and to watering holes. she's seen some shit, is covered in a perpetual layer of dirt and dog hair, but he loves it. keeps the top of 90% of the year. his dog is his passenger princess. his siblings sit in the back 9/10 if Tess (his dog) is with them. only person who gets the dog booted is his mom and dad, and later on once they've grown a bit, his niece and nephew's. (I do think Daeron would be the sibling to fix up an older sports car, but I can't decide on what he would pick to fix up)

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Spoil of War

dark!aegon x niece!reader

summary: aegon enjoys his time with his prisoner of war

A/N: my bad y'all, it took me forever to get this up

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, smut!!, bondage, incest, violence, kidnapping, degradation, body worship perhaps

word count: 2,245 words

You sit in your childhood bedroom, stewing with your thoughts. It was all so quick, the battle with Daeron, the demise of your dragon. You should be grateful; she spent her last moments cushioning your fall so you wouldn’t die on impact, but you can’t help thinking that you would be better off dead. There’s hardly anything worse than being a prisoner of war, except being Aegon’s prisoner of war.

Speak of the Devil, Aegon has the guards open your chamber doors and the smug bastard strolls in. “Ah, my sweet niece. I finally have the chance to lay my eyes on you.” He regards your nightgown with great interest. You haven’t had a chance to dress yourself for the day yet. “You’ve been quite the subject of controversy as of late.” He says with a light smirk.

“Which part is controversial, the fact that you’re keeping me prisoner, usurper?” You say back to him with spite.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. It’s a temporary situation.” He says, unconcerned as he walks over to your dining table of untouched food and picks up an apple, taking a bite of it. “Once your mother bends the knee, i’ll return you to her. It’s as easy as that.”

“Or they’ll take control of King’s Landing and Daemon will slaughter you where you stand.” You’ve never heard your voice filled with such hate before as when you speak now.

“Come on, the threats are hardly necessary. You are safe with us - for the time being.” He makes a stupid joking cringe face at the second part of his sentence. “You could do with being more amicable.”

“Amicable? I’m your fucking prisoner and if her Grace the Queen doesn’t bend the knee to your spoiled, traitorus ass, you’ll execute me.”

“War doesn’t often give you many options. And you, my dear niece, are a very valuable bargaining chip.” As he speaks, you know he takes the utmost pleasure in you being in his control. You want to wipe the smug grin off his face.

You reach for the piece of glass you had hidden, ever so slowly. You feel your hand clutch it and your gaze is filled with rage as you launch yourself at him. “You traitor!” You aim for his throat with the sharp point but he catches your arm. The broken glass barely grazes him, leaving only the thinnest line of blood as proof of your attack. He twists your arm and the piece of glass clatters to the floor. Your uncle releases you only so he can backhand you so hard that you fall to the floor.

“Gods, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He wipes the drip of the blood off his neck. “Clever girl, going for the throat.” He laughs at you. You just tried to kill him and he laughs at you.

You glare up at him, your face distraught and full of vengeance. You quickly reach for the glass that you had dropped but as soon as you manage to grip it again, Aegon kicks you in the stomach. You curl into yourself, whimpering.

“Okay that’s enough of that. Guards!” The guards immediately enter the room, ready to defend their king. “Restrain her. Use… rope.” He has a certain look on his face as he says the last word, seemingly pleased with himself as he struts out of the room.

You’re left on your knees, by the fireplace for an hour until Aegon returns. Your hands behind your back, the bindings keeping you in place. There is, what you consider to be, an unnecessary amount of rope tied around your body that is seemingly for decoration, for your uncle’s pleasure.

“Are you calm now?” He asks as he strides back into your chamber with arrogance. “I wasn’t sure what the cool down time was for Strong bastards.” His stare is hungry as he looks upon you. “What a pleasant sight, my combative niece tied up at my feet.” He almost mumbles the last part.

“I will be calm when I watch your body burn.” There is heat in your words, your threats.

“That is a lot of big talk for a girl who is kneeling for her king. You’re much more desirable like this… when you’re helpless beneath my gaze.” His fingertips graze under your chin, tilting it up so you have to look at him. You jerk your head away.

“Don’t touch me!” You spit at his feet.

“Silly to say such things when you’re at my mercy.” He kneels down to look at you better, his fingers run along your soft hair. “I’ve never been more tempted. And i’ve been tempted many, many times.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had forgotten how divine you are.”

You know where he’s going with this, what he wants. His finger trails down your nightgown, to your breast, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll burn in the Seven Hells for this!” You say as you fight against your restraints.

He ignores your words. “If I were a more brazen man, i’d ravish you right here and now… oh wait.” He chuckles at his own joke.

The fire burns bright behind you and his dagger gleams in the warm light as he unsheathes it. He cuts one of the cap sleeves of your nightgown. “You have no right.” Your eyes flare bolder than dragonflame as you speak.

“Oh, my lovely sweet niece, I absolutely have the right because you are under my protection. If I want to rip that nightgown off and ravage you, who’s going to stop me?” He says sadistically… lustfully as he cuts the other cap of your gown.

“It’s not a proper way to treat an important bargaining chip.” You say softly. To be truthful, younger you would be preening at the chance to be so close to Aegon. Up until now, you had thought that part of you had died with Luke. Now, he’s so close, so... alluring.

“It’s not, but when have I ever been known to behave properly?” He then cuts your nightgown off of you, down the middle and as swiftly as he can without cutting through your bonds, leaving you naked other than the smallclothes that barely cover your lower half.

His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you almost completely naked. His hand falls to your thigh, rubbing the smooth soft skin. “You’ve always had such a lovely figure, niece.”

You flinch and squirm some more. And then you begin to scream bloody murder. Aegon winces before grabbing part of your torn nightgown and shoving it in your mouth. “Such a noisy girl. Now, that’s better. You shouldn’t scream so much. I only intend to show you a good time. I promise you’ll love it.”  He smirks again. “Well… i’ll love it.”

His other hand trails up your navel, to your breast, giving it another squeeze. He then pushes you back on the flocculent carpet and what a sight you make with your hair splayed around you and your pretty mouth gagged. The pillows are strewn about you, in place so you can sit as close to the crackling fire as you wish. Now, it has become the perfect scene for Aegon to take you. He looks at you as if you are the maiden herself, descended from the heavens to be gifted to him. To him, your fairness outmatches Psyche… it outmatches Aphrodite. 

“You don’t know how long I have waited for this, princess.” He then rips your remaining small clothes off, leaving you completely nude. His eyes just rake over you for a moment before he speaks.  “Ah, a sight I could get used to.” He leans down to kiss your breast, focusing on your nipple, focusing on making you feel good? He litters little marks all over before moving to the other and giving it the same attention. He then begins to methodically kiss down your chest, to your tummy, past your navel. You know what he intends his final destination to be. You keep your legs clamped firmly shut, not fully because you want him to stop, and partly because of the wetness that lies between your thighs.

“Hm, a little shy, are we? How sweet…” It isn’t difficult for him to pry your legs open and he grins at the sight of you dripping for him. “Naughty little girl, all wet for her uncle.” 

You turn your heat to the side so you don’t have to make eye contact with him. He grabs your chin and turns your head back. “No. You will watch as I fuck you with my tongue.” You try not to groan as he licks up between your legs, his eyes on yours as his pupils blow wide. He kisses, licks and nips at you, taking you to places in pleasure you’ve never been before. When his tongue pierces your entrance, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. You hope the gag muted the sound enough that he wouldn’t hear, but your hopes are dashed when he lifts his head.

“I think I want to hear all the pretty little sounds that you make. No more screaming though. Unless, they’re screams of gratification.” He pulls the torn cloth from your mouth but you keep your lips stubbornly sealed. He shakes his head and chuckles before he is between your thighs again. The man eats you like you’re his last meal but you don’t let a single sound out, much to his displeasure even if he can tell that you don’t do it with ease. 

“Why must you be so difficult?” He asks exasperatedly.

“I want you dead.” He rolls his eyes at the statement. “Perhaps you aren’t as good at pleasuring women as you believe.” That pisses him off.

“You’re such a little liar.” He flips you over so your ass is in the air and your chest and face are squished into a cushion, your hands unable to hold you up due to their bindings. “Perhaps I need to fuck that bratty behaviour out of you.” He says and you hear the rustling of clothes behind you. You know he’s undressing and you know there’s no way you can stop him from taking you now, not with how you have pissed him off, not with how your cunt is so deliciously presented to him. But it won’t stop you from trying.

“Aegon don’t you dare.” You say with all the confidence you can muster. You don’t fear your maidenhood being taken, you fear the possibility of a bastard being put in your belly.

“Don’t you ever presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, wench.” With that, he shoves himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. You let out a strangled moan and he laughs. “No keeping your sounds to yourself now.” He then begins to piston himself into you, the head of him brushing your cervix with each thrust. You feel so full every time his hips meet yours. “Gods i’ve never felt a cunt so tight and wet.” His hands grip your hips roughly so he can bring them back with each thrust, making it feel like he’s hitting deeper inside of you. 

“Aegon…” You whine out and squeeze a little around him.

“You like it, don’t you? You like it when your uncle fucks you. I’ve taken you as a prisoner and now you’re moaning in pleasure as I use you. What would your brothers think, what would your mother think, if they saw you taking my cock so well?”

You just whine his name again in response, your head too cloudy to give him an answer.

“I want you to say it. Say how much you love having me inside you.” He fucks into you so deeply that all you want to do is obey.

“I l-ove it, uncle. I love it when you fuck me.” You whimper out again as he stretches you so perfectly.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” His finger comes between your legs to rub your clit and you almost scream. “God, you’re such a little cockslut. Am I your first, little niece?”

“Y-Yes…” You say softly and he grins.

“I thought so. Nobody gets so worked up like a maiden.” He rubs you harder, so fast that you see stars. You begin to squirm a little as your walls begin to squeeze around his thick cock.

He grasps your hair at the roots and pulls your head back so you have to look him in the eye. “That’s right, cum around my cock, baby. Do it.” You fully reach your peak with his command. He watches your face contort with pleasure as you finish around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm. He gives a few more hard thrusts before spilling his seed in you. “Good girl.”

You wince as he pulls out, feeling empty now. He easily manoeuvres you back to your knees and stands up with you at his feet. He tilts your chin up so you have to look him in the eye again.

“I’ll be visiting you much more often now. You don’t have the kind of cunt a man can handle only fucking once.” His thumb strokes your cheek. For the depravity he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft

“I hate you.”

He smiles gently. “Hate me all you want. I can take it.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[misswynters]

Aemond Targaryen as your husband: headcanon

[a/n: there are some sensual undertones here so if you don’t wanna read that you can skip it. it’s after the seperator

[note | pls don’t just like, reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

similar | jace | aegon | cregan | daeron | gwayne

Aemond is fiercely protective of you. His intense loyalty means he is always by your side, ensuring your safety and well-being. He often places himself between you and any perceived threat, his hand instinctively reaching for his sword.

Aemond isn’t one for grand romantic gestures, but his love for you is evident in the small things. He brushes your hair out of your face, ensures your chambers are always warm, and leaves books he thinks you’d enjoy on your bedside table.

As your husband, Aemond values your opinion on matters of state and politics. He seeks your counsel in private, trusting your judgment and treating you as an equal partner in all decisions.

Aemond admires your intelligence and enjoys engaging in deep conversations with you. Whether it’s discussing the histories of Westeros, strategy, or philosophy, he relishes the intellectual stimulation you provide.

Aemond respects your strength and encourages you to train with him. He enjoys sparring sessions where you both hone your skills, often leading to playful banter and mutual admiration.

You and Aemond have an unspoken bond, sharing secrets that no one else knows. He trusts you implicitly and confides in you about his deepest fears and ambitions.

Despite his stern exterior, Aemond has a soft spot for you. In private, he’s tender and gentle, often holding you close and whispering sweet nothings that contrast sharply with his public demeanor.

Aemond enjoys gifting you rare and precious items, from intricate jewelry to exotic silks. He takes pride in finding unique treasures that reflect your tastes and interests.

One of your favorite pastimes is riding Vhagar together. The thrill of soaring through the skies, feeling the wind in your hair, and the shared experience of dragon riding brings you closer. Aemond often points out landmarks and recounts stories from his childhood as you fly.

Aemond’s loyalty to you is unwavering. He defends your honor fiercely and would go to great lengths to protect you from harm. His love is intense and all-consuming, leaving no room for doubt.

Through your relationship, Aemond learns to open up more emotionally. Your patience and understanding help him grow, allowing him to express his feelings more freely and strengthening your bond.

Aemond is your biggest supporter. Whether you’re pursuing a personal project or navigating court politics, he’s always there to offer encouragement and practical advice.

Aemond is devoted to your future children. He takes an active role in their upbringing, ensuring they are well-educated and trained. He often tells them stories of his own adventures and the legacy of House Targaryen.

Despite the challenges you face, your bond with Aemond is unbreakable. Together, you are a formidable team, facing the world with strength and determination. Your love for each other is a constant source of comfort and inspiration, guiding you through the trials of life in Westeros.

Aemond’s eye always finds you in a room full of people. The way he looks at you, with a mix of desire and admiration, sends shivers down your spine. His gaze alone can make you feel cherished and wanted.

In private, Aemond’s touches are gentle and deliberate. He traces his fingers along your skin, memorizing every curve and line. Whether it’s a light touch on your hand or a caress along your back, he makes you feel treasured.

Aemond’s kisses are a mix of urgency and tenderness. He captures your lips with an intensity that leaves you breathless, his hands cradling your face as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Late at night, when the castle is quiet, Aemond whispers sweet and sultry words in your ear. He tells you of his desires, his dreams, and how deeply he loves you. His voice, low and husky, wraps around you like a warm embrace.

Aemond takes his time when you’re having sex. He believes in savoring every moment, exploring your body with a careful and practiced touch. His focus is entirely on your pleasure, ensuring you feel loved and satisfied.

There’s a powerful, unspoken connection between you. A single look from Aemond can communicate a thousand words. In moments of intimacy, you don’t need to speak; your bodies and souls understand each other perfectly.

After a long day, Aemond loves to hold you close. He wraps his arms around you, his body shielding yours. The warmth of his embrace and the steady beat of his heart are the ultimate comfort, making you feel safe and adored. Giving you the love that his mother didn’t give him.

Aemond is particularly affectionate in the mornings. He wakes you with soft kisses on your neck and shoulders, his hands gently exploring your body as he whispers good morning. These moments set a loving tone for the day ahead.

Aemond enjoys sharing baths with you. The intimacy of washing each other, feeling the warm water and his hands on your skin, creates a deep bond. He loves to see you relaxed and content, and he takes his time, making sure every touch is soothing and sensual.

Despite his duties, Aemond finds time for secret sex. Whether it’s a secluded garden or a hidden room in the castle, he ensures you have moments of privacy to express your love and passion freely.

banner by: @cafekitsune

[crossingthedreams]

humiliation — aemond targaryen x niece!reader

a/n: bro, for real, i can’t believe i’m posting day 10 - humiliation (@angstober) on the right day. seriously. i’m so fucking proud of myself! anyway, this can be read as a stand alone or a prequel to growing pains (aka day 08). and let me know what you think! 

masterlist

summary: we don’t choose our family, but we choose how we do politics. 

word count: 2k 

warnings: angst. slight sexual harassment. arranged marriage. implied targaryen incest (uncle/niece). aegon is an asshole.

It didn’t matter you were as much of a royal as they, as much of a Targaryen as they were. It didn’t matter if you rode a dragon and had silver hair. You were still the half-sister of Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey, and that was enough for the Greens to treat you like a jester in court. 

Queen Alicent was not blatantly hostile towards you, but she was not friendly either. You saw the way she side-eyed you, that her father looked you up and down. Whilst her quarrel was with your mother, the Hand’s mind was much more cunning. He saw you as a piece not yet allocated in his board. Fortunately for him, you were sent as a bona fide present to court after your mother relocated to Dragonstone.

Your grandsire, the King, barely looked at you. Of course, he was terribly ill. Still, you were certain he just didn’t like the reminder his daughter was wed to, and clearing bedding his brother. 

As a young woman of a certain age, you knew whenever someone did the math, it was clear your parents conceived you before they were properly wed. The timeline was confusing, and you were undoubtedly the child of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon, but were they or were they not wed at the time of your birth? Were you a bastard in technical terms?

To you, it didn’t matter at all. For some, well, that was a point of conversation constantly brought up. 

“Uncles and their nieces seem not to be bound by rules of wedlock, isn’t that right, Princess?”, a drunken Aegon moved his hand towards your leg at the dinner table. You slapped it away instantly, frowning towards him. 

His mother sighed, and his wife wasn’t paying attention.

“Prince Aegon, you ought to respect the Princess”, Otto Hightower said. You read between the lines. Her father will assassinate you. Your own father will disown you. 

Your gaze met Otto’s, and you nodded once, recognizing his attempts at decency. 

“Please, grandfather”, Aegon’s hand moved towards your face, and you deflected. He still managed to toy with a single lock of your hair. “She likes it”.

Once more, you removed his hand. Right now, silence was your finest ally. Enticing Aegon would only make him grow angry towards you or worse, take it out on sweet Helaena. How could Aegon be such an arse? His siblings sure weren’t as terrible.

Helaena was a good friend, and ever since giving birth she had grown even kinder, albeit a little weird. You and Daeron were closer in age, and he was ever courteous. 

And then there was Aemond. You had never seen a man so torn between the darkness and the light within themselves, except only, perhaps, for your own father. And when it came to your father, you only ever saw the good in him, and these horrible things he supposedly did were only stories. That wasn’t the case with Aemond.

You had seen him come and go from brothels, harm servants unnecessarily and even have you at the end of his insults. He could be a monster, prone to humiliating your brothers or even you yourself when he was threatened, and he seemed glad in causing chaos. 

But he was also loving. He would defend you from Aegon and others sometimes, even. He was the first to take you dancing, and he would be on the floor with you even past his feet hurt. He had taken it upon himself to make sure you became fluent in High Valyrian, a task your mother herself had given up on. After you first claimed a dragon, he flew many times with you, and all of the smallfolk made sure to watch when you took the skies together, as it was quite the sight. 

You were expecting him to defend you from Aegon right now, instead, he just quietly moved his food around his plate with his fork. 

“I often wish we could go back to Sunspear, Helaena”, you changed the subject. Your aunt, who seemed to be in a totally different world, looked at you alarmed. “Do you remember?”, you continued, stretching to see over Aegon and look directly into your aunt’s eyes. “The weather agreed with me much more than the rain”.

“Maybe we could see Daeron, too”, Helaena seemed excited for once. You didn’t have it in you to tell her Sunspear and Old Town were a far ride from each other.

“We should take the Cannibal and Dreamfyre and go”, you said, already smiling at the prospect. The smiles died when you mentioned your dragon, who seemed to be aggressive to all but you and, eventually, Vhagar.

“Oh, dear, I don’t think either of you should leave now”, Queen Alicent stated, voice sweet. 

“And why’s that, mother?”, it was Aemond’s turn to speak, for the first time during the whole supper. His head turned to look at his mother, who was in her usual seat besides the King’s seat, which lay empty. Viserys was much too ill and in too much pain. “Associating your daughter with the scandalous child of a scandalous mother is crossing a line?”.

The silence was deadly. 

You knew Aemond well enough to know the problem wasn’t with Helaena and you dreaming of Dorne.

Your eyes darted from Aemond to Alicent, and then to Otto. They all knew something they didn’t let out yet.

And every bone in your body told you — whatever it was they weren’t letting out, well, it was about you. 

Aemond stood up like a bolt and excused himself, marching angrily away. 

You had to find out what was going on, but leaving now would only bring more attention to both you and the matter, and it also meant dealing with an aggravated Aemond. Bad idea. 

After dinner, waiting until the dead of night and sneaking into your Uncle’s room to get the truth out of him? Sounds perfectly reasonable. 

Aemond was sitting, looking unbothered. You walked in from the secret passageway that connected most of the Red Keep, and he didn’t seem surprised at all. He looked like a true Targaryen Prince.

“Took you long enough”, he was examining his nails, and then his one lilac eye turned towards you. 

“I wasn’t aware we had an arrangement”. 

“Yet here you are”. 

You smiled softly, not showing any teeth. A conversation like this with Aemond could go in any direction, and, with your experience, you knew it was best to appear submissive.

“You have been informed your name is a constant in the Small Council, haven’t you, niece?”.

You raised your eyebrows, entering his chambers nonchalantly. With the King’s health deteriorating and talks of succession rising once more, you, the daughter of the heir apparent, were as valuable as gold. Of course you knew you were talked about often, and Aemond knew this as well. Therefore, you didn’t reply. He wanted to make a point, so he was going to make it. 

“There’s been talks about your future”, Aemond continued, leaning forward as you sat across from him in the room. “Matrimonial matters have been raised”.

You gasped. You tried not to, but you did. Your mother swore you would have a say in who your husband was. Surely she hadn’t delegated this matter to the Queen. Which meant you would be given as a shine prize to a nobleman, and he would consummate the marriage before your mother was even made aware of it. 

You felt sick. 

“Don’t worry. Aegon is not taking a second wife”, the smile could be heard in Aemond’s voice. You scoffed and turned to him.

“Is that all?”

“My grandfather wished to have you wed Daeron”. Your eyes widened. Certainly not a good match. Daeron was kind and sweet, but he lived distantly. You would not be sent to Old Town, there’d be no convincing you of that. “My mother opposed, of course”.

“How could the always just Queen Alicent have her child married to the child of the ‘scandalous’ princess Rhaenyra, right?”, you mocked and copied his words from dinner earlier. Aemond constantly looked angry, but now he looked just annoyed.

“There’s that, yes. Also, it’s not politically wise”, he continued. “Cregan Stark would be a better match, perhaps even a dornish man, since you seem so fond of those wildlings”. 

“Make your point, Uncle. Who am I to marry?”

“It hasn’t been decided”, he turned to you. “There’s a problem with your family, you see”.

“Our family”, you corrected. Whether he willed it or no, Aemond Targaryen was the younger brother of your mother, and he would have to live as such. 

Your uncle’s eye narrowed, then went back to normal. Sitting across from each other, you seemed almost the same height. His gaze went from your eyes to your neck, then chest, then covered legs, darting upwards to the ceiling quickly as he let his body fall even more on the sofa. He breathed deeply. “Yes, dear niece. Our family”.

“You should take me”, you said, without thinking. You thought too much, and a marriage between the Greens and the Blacks would be interesting for both, assuring both sides of the family were united. Wasn’t that the way your family did business? Marrying off their daughters? 

Out of this entire planet, Aemond was the only man you’d met that you’d be willing to marry. The rest were brutes, disgustingly aggressive or simply dumb.

From the look in his eyes, you knew Aemond was thinking about it. Your breath got caught in your throat. He surely had thought about it before, right? You were a beautiful girl, you knew this, and Aemond had a thing for women with silver hair. All men in King’s Landing wished they could have you, why would Aemond be any different? 

You kept forgetting that Aemond was, in fact, different. 

“I couldn’t wed you, niece”, he said, mouth a thin line. Your heart was racing in your chest. “What would we have? Not the throne, not even Dragonstone”. 

“Each other”, you replied harshly, fighting the tears in your eyes. “We’d have each other”.

“That’s not enough”.

The sheer humiliation that you felt was enough to make you stand up and motion towards the door. But you couldn’t leave through the front door, could you? Your reputation would be ruined forever.

So, with your heart simultaneously beating fast and not beating at all, you just stood there in the middle of Aemond’s chambers. You didn’t want to look back at him, but you had to turn to make your way out where you came.

You hadn’t heard Aemond, who quietly made his way to you, and was now towering above you. Your eyes locked, breaths mixing. If you were to stand on your tiptoes, your lips would almost reach his. Almost.

The problem with Aemond was this constant streak of ‘almosts’. You were sure his reasons for not marrying you were political more than anything else, and it pained you to know that the legitimacy of your brothers was a matter even now, when yours wasn’t. Your mother and her decisions… It had humiliated you once more. 

Your heart was beating so loudly you feared he could hear it from this distance. Still close enough so you could feel his breath, Aemond muttered in Valyrian, even though you were alone “Ao issi naejot jikagon sir (You should go now)”.

Quietly, with feelings of humiliation and something else you couldn’t quite name, you stepped away as you did as your uncle commanded, and left. 

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 8: She's The Salt Of The Earth And She's Dangerous]

A/N: Be sure to vote in the poll pinned to the top of my blog AFTER you finish reading!!! 🥰

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace (again).

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “She's A Rebel” by Green Day.

Word count: 7.4k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I’m sorry if I was a creep when we first met,” Aegon says. He’s been oddly philosophical since he was burned. “I hadn’t seen a hot single chick in a while, and I wanted to fuck you.”

Cregan siphoned just enough gas from a decrepit Chrysler Sebring in Merna to take the Tahoe two and a half hours west to Little Thunder Bay Campground on the shores of Lake McConaughy, a manmade reservoir and New Deal project from the 1930s. You glance over at Aegon dubiously, amused. “Do I count as hot?”

“Yeah, Chippendales, you’re hot. In like a…you live in a cabin and knit sweaters by a crackling fireplace kind of way.”

You smile. “So you got over that.”

“Oh no, I still want to fuck you. Now I just know you better, so I wouldn’t want to offend you by being obnoxious about it.”

“That’s sweet, I guess. I appreciate your discretion.”

“No problem. If you ever decide you want to take a ride on a less distinguished Targaryen brother, let me know.”

The two of you are fishing from a boat launch, dry splintering planks of wood, opaque rippling water, soft wind and bright sunshine from an aquamarine, cloudless sky. Cregan found the fishing poles in the abandoned RV you’ve moved into, a Winnebago Spirit with one of those stick figure family decals on the back window, Mom, Dad, four lovely children and a dog too, all of whom are perhaps alive but more likely dead and in any case nowhere to be found here in this tranquil corner of western Nebraska, 150 miles from the Wyoming border. Helaena digs worms from the earth, then Rhaena slices them into wriggling segments with a hunting knife and brings them to you and Aegon to be impaled on barbed hooks. Aemond, Rio, Daeron, Luke, and Cregan are swimming about twenty yards down the beach, soaked boxer shorts and nothing else, splashing each other and scrubbing the grime off their skin from a morning spent gathering wood for the firepit and the grill; Ice is paddling joyfully alongside them. Baela floats on her back and peers vacantly up into the vast blue nothingness. Aegon is not permitted in the water, as his leg is an open wound beneath his bandages. You ask him as you recast your fishing line: “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

You shrug, smirking guiltily. You thought it was obvious.

Aegon throws back his head and cackles, slow and lazy. “Oh, I get it. A loser.”

“I didn’t say loser.”

“You thought loser.”

“I implied loser.”

“It’s alright. I’ve been called worse things by people I admire much less.” He contemplates his answer as he gazes down into the water, sluggish stoned reverie. Aemond must be almost out of morphine by now. At last Aegon says: “I think the first thing I ever learned was that no matter how hard I tried, no one was ever going to love me. Not in a normal kind of way, Disney movie love, Christmas rom-com love. So I stopped trying. Mother wanted me to play piano, so I bombed the recital. Father wanted me to be a doctor or a lawyer, so I skipped class, went golfing and yachting, didn’t even bother to pay someone to write halfway decent essays for me. If they couldn’t love me unconditionally, I wasn’t interested in meeting their conditions.” Then he chuckles, the breeze combing through his hair, ninety degrees and only getting hotter. “I refused to work. All you’ve ever done is work. You must hate me.”

“No, I get it.” You reel in your line; a fish has stolen the worm from your hook, tiny clandestine nibbles. You impale a slimy new victim and recast. “No one wants to be used.”

“Yeah. Exactly. I wasn’t going to spend my life doing shit I didn’t want to do so my parents could brag about me to their insufferable friends and absolve themselves of their mistakes. Mother married a man who didn’t give a fuck about her, Father ignored us all. Me being a success story would have given them the impression they did something right. I couldn’t have that.”

So Aemond had to be the success story instead. You glance down the beach at where he is bursting through the water and slicking back his dripping hair from his face, showing Luke a bone he found in the muddy silt of Lake McConaughy, hopefully not human.

Aegon follows your eyeline. “Aemond went the other way, I guess. Always so pathetically desperate for their approval. Scrabbling for crumbs of it like a rat. That’s what the thing with Alys was all about, it’s the only explanation I have. Older woman, surrogate mother, comforting but chilly, fawning but forbidden, always keeping him at an arm’s length and rewarding his tricks with treats.” He smirks flirtatiously, then sees that he’s hurt you. “Oh, um, I mean…look, it wasn’t…it wasn’t a good thing, you know? He wasn’t happy. It was a seven-year-long psychotic episode, not a relationship.”

“You mentioned that Criston likes Aemond,” you say, pivoting. “The…what is he? A family friend, an assistant?”

“My mother’s personal security guard. And yeah, he cares about Aemond. He’s proud of him, he trust him, he thinks he’s more capable than any of the rest of us, and that’s probably true. It’s definitely true compared to me. But that doesn’t mean Criston always knows how to express it.”

You look out over the water, trying not to imagine Aemond touching Alys, this woman you hate without knowing her face. You wonder if he ever wishes you were more like her: older, clever, entrancing, masterful. “It must have been a strange way to grow up.”

“Cold,” Aegon says. “Hollow. Holidays, birthdays, vacations, everything. You go through the motions but something’s always missing. When you’re little, you think it’s your fault, and then eventually you realize that they’re going to be miserable whether you’re there or not. But you can get out if you’re willing to run far enough.” He scratches at his forearm, and your eyes catch fleetingly on the black ink of his tattoo: It’s not over ‘til you’re underground. You had told Rio something similar when you were stranded on that transmission tower in Catawissa, Pennsylvania. “This is fucked up, and I don’t mean that I don’t feel bad about what happened to Jace, and I get that millions of people have died agonizing deaths, and that all sucks, believe me, I know, but this…” He gestures vaguely, to the zombies and the desolation and the collapse of everything you’ve ever known. “It was kind of my Get Out Of Jail Free card. And in a weird way…sometimes I feel like I’ve been happier since the world ended than I ever was before.”

You smile. You know what he means. “Even if your leg gets infected and we have to saw it off without anesthesia like you’re a Civil War soldier?”

Aegon laughs and shakes his head, his hair flopping around. It’s almost long enough for him to have a man bun like Cregan’s if he wanted one “No, probably not. Also, what’s the Civil War?”

“Forget it.”

“No, now I want to know.”

“It’s kind of a long story.”

“Aemond said something interesting this morning while you were picking blackberries with our favorite Trump supporter,” Aegon tells you, salacious and sly, offering a tantalizing morsel he knows you’re powerless to refuse. He pauses and waits for you to admit it to yourself.

“Fine. Okay. What?”

“He said that when you and Cregan are standing next to each other, you look like you belong together.”

You groan, quite loudly. “I have zero interest in Cregan romantically. Literally zero. I don’t think he sees me that way either.”

Aegon shrugs. “The dating pool is awfully small nowadays, Banana Chip. Anyone who’s not a corpse or an immediate blood relative starts to look tasty.”

“So that’s why you like me.”

Aegon grins, teeth he shows often and easily, so unlike Aemond in every way. “No. I think I’d like you anywhere.” He tugs languidly on his fishing pole. “I want a new golf club.” He forgot his at the house in Broken Bow where Jace died.

“We’ll see.”

“I want new shoes too.” One of his Sperry Bahama sneakers was burned beyond repair and filled with shreds of his own singed flesh, scraps like soft bacon fused with the padding and insole. “And some polos.”

“I’m not a Big Lots.”

“Who the fuck shops at Big Lots?” Aegon’s fishing line jerks, and he yanks hard on the pole before reeling in his catch. Suspended at the end is a long green creature, yellowish spots and a villainous angular face. “That is one ugly bitch.”

“It’s a pike,” you say, and then when you grab it you observe that the misfortunate fish has the barb of the hook piercing not through its lip but one of its bulging, glassy eyes. “Oh my God!”

Aegon squeals, horrified. He offers no meaningful assistance. “That’s so gross, that’s so gross, what are we going to do?!”

“We have to, like, I don’t know, grab the back of the hook from inside its mouth and pull it out of the eyeball, I guess…?!”

“Yeah, awesome. Good luck with that.”

You reach tentatively into the pike’s gaping mouth. Its jaws snap shut, needlelike teeth stinging your wrist. “Ow!”

“Cregan!” Aegon bellows. “Cregan, help!”

Now the others are running to the boat launch to see what’s going on, Helaena and Rhaena from the shore, everyone else from the lake, Luke helping Baela wring the water from her sundress and Ice galloping alongside Cregan. He gets a look at the pike and guffaws, loud and rumbling.

“Poor little guy. That’s some bad luck he’s got.”

“Can you get the hook out?” you ask, eager to surrender the fish, which is still thrashing franticly and gnashing its teeth, mindless cold-blooded death throes.

“Of course I can.” Cregan plucks the pike from your grasp, shoves his massive hand into its mouth, and rips the hook out with one effortless maneuver. The pike is freed, but its eyeball remains speared on the hook. Then Cregan spies blood on your wrist. “You okay there, Miss Chips?”

“Oh yeah. I’m fine.”

“Freaking disgusting, man,” Aegon mutters; he and Rio are ogling the disembodied eyeball, complete with a frayed optic nerve like a tail, with identical, stunned revulsion.

You turn to smile up at Aemond, but he doesn’t notice you. He is staring at Cregan, his sole blue eye narrow and fixed and flat like still water.

~~~~~~~~~~

“The closest town is Ogallala,” Aegon says as he lays his map across the wooden picnic table. The rest of you are seated around him and picking flaky white meat from between the thin, fragile bones of the pike, which Cregan has gutted and cooked on the large metal grill that careless camping families once roasted marshmallows and hotdogs over. Helaena is at the edge of the table and writing in her spider notebook, elegant loops of cursive. Ice is lying on her belly and gnawing on a rabbit she killed for herself, its doomed black eyes gazing up at you.

“That has to be what, ten miles south?” Rio says apprehensively.

Aegon licks grease from his fingers. “Yup. A little more, probably.”

“What about Lemoyne?” Daeron says, pointing. “Or Keystone, or even Belmar? They’re all closer.”

“See how small the names are written?” Aegon tells him. “That means they’re not actual communities. They’re like a few stop signs and maybe a Dollar General and that’s it.”

“I love Dollar General,” Cregan says, nostalgic. “Man, do y’all remember Chicken in a Biskit? I used to park myself in front of the tv and eat boxes and boxes—”

“It has to be Ogallala,” Aemond insists. “We need pharmacies and grocery stores and cars to siphon gas from, we need a real town.”

Rhaena chews her lower lip anxiously. “The Tahoe is empty. We have maybe half a gallon left and that’s it. Just enough to get down to Ogallala if we’re lucky, but not back.”

“So we’ll drive until it dies and then we’ll walk. Cregan has a gas can in the back, if we find fuel we can bring some back to the Tahoe and continue from there.”

“Walk, huh?” Aegon says, looking down at his bandaged left leg, which he can’t put any weight on. He gets around by hopping, leaning against other people (oftentimes against their will), and being carried by Rio.

“Well, you’re not going,” Aemond tells him. “And Baela isn’t either.”

Baela, gazing blankly down at the map, says nothing. A brown striped snake darts through the grass only a few feet from the picnic table, moving swiftly towards the lake, and there are alarmed gasps and yelps.

“Northern water snake,” Helaena says, glancing up from her notebook. “Not venomous.”

“Good,” Rhaena replies with a shudder.

Luke says fearfully as he reads the map: “Aemond, last time we went into a town that big was Broken Bow, and…Jace…the farmhouse…”

Aemond slams his fists down on the table. “We have to, okay? We need food and water. We need bullets. I need more pain meds and bandages for Aegon, I need antiseptic and Neosporin, and Vaseline for when he’s healing, and supplies for when Baela goes into labor too, since I’ve had to use everything I had saved.”

“We need pads and tampons too,” Helaena says as she examines the black-ink inventory in her notebook. “And Advil, lip balm, bars of soap, hair ties, and socks and underwear. And that green jelly aloe vera stuff for Aegon’s sunburn.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Aemond agrees. “We need a lot of things. And we have to refuel so we can keep moving west.”

“We could stay here,” Baela says, so softly that at first you aren’t sure if you heard her right.

“What, Baela?” Rhaena asks gently.

“I want to stay here.” Baela is more resolute now. “I want to have the baby here.”

Nobody knows how to respond. Rio gives you a troubled glance. You nod in agreement, so subtly you doubt anyone else notices. Not an option.

Aemond is calm but unwavering. “Baela, I’m sorry, but that’s not possible.”

She pleads her case. “I like the Winnebago. I like the lake. I’m comfortable here, and we’re out in the middle of nowhere, and I…I think we could make this our home for a while, now that we’ve found someplace like this. Someplace quiet and safe.”

“We’re not safe here, Baela,” Aemond says. “It feels like we’re safe, but we’re not. We aren’t a big enough group to reliably be able to defend ourselves. We don’t have adequate supplies. We have a lake to our backs, sure, but the rest of the shoreline is open for anybody to walk right into, and our visibility is blocked by trees. No one has stumbled across us yet, but that doesn’t mean they won’t. And if they do we’re extremely vulnerable. But when we get to the west coast, we’ll be home.”

“I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid.”

“I understand. I am too.”

“It’s different,” Baela says, abruptly fierce. “You don’t know what this feels like. None of you do. I’ve never given up and I’ve never asked to be taken care of, I’ve always been the strong one, but I’m so goddamn tired, and I want to have my baby here, and I…I…” Her large dark eyes are glistening, haunted. “Every time we’re driving I feel like I see him sitting next to me, or standing out in the middle of the road, and then I have to remember what happened all over again, and…I just…I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Rhaena takes Baela’s hands in her own, skims her thumbs across Baela’s knuckles; Luke rubs her back reassuringly. The rest of you can only offer silent, pitying looks. There are no easy answers, no fortuitous gold strikes, no shortcuts. The only way out is through.

“Whatever you guys decide, I’m leaving either way,” Rio says. “Sophie’s waiting for me in Oregon. I can’t just hang out in Nebraska forever. I’ll walk if I have to.”

“It’s over a thousand miles,” Aegon tells him.

“Doesn’t matter, man. I gotta do it.”

You add: “Obviously, I’d have to go with Rio.”

Both Aemond and Aegon appear startled. “We’ll be on the road again soon,” Aemond promises. “Tomorrow, if we can find gas in Ogallala.”

“I’m not going,” Baela whispers.

“We have to, Baela,” Rhaena implores. “It’ll be alright. We’ll take care of you, and the baby too when the time comes.”

Baela stands, strides to the Winnebago, disappears inside and slams the door behind her.

“She’ll be okay,” Rhaena tells the rest of you. “She’s…you know, she’s shaken up. She’s not thinking clearly. But she’ll realize this was the right decision. The only decision, really.”

“It’s best if we can get set up somewhere permanent before she goes into labor,” Aemond says, as if he’s defending himself. “Traveling with a baby…Baela recovering…it would be very dangerous for all of us.”

“Luke and I are thinking the same things, Aemond. We agree with you.”

He gives Rhaena an appreciative smile, very small but sincere. Then he turns to Daeron. “Baela and Aegon will have to wait here when I go south to Ogallala, since they can’t walk in the event the Tahoe runs out of gas. You’re going to stay behind to protect them.”

“Got it,” Daeron says soberly. All the bullets are gone; his compound bow, fed with arrows fashioned from sticks, is the best weapon you have left. Cregan has his axe, Rio still prefers to bash skulls with the butt of his Remington shotgun, everyone else must make do with hunting knives from that cellar back in Pennsylvania and kayak paddles found here at Lake McConaughy.

Aemond looks around the table. “I’ll need Rio, Cregan, and Luke.”

“And our beloved furball Blue Raspberry Icee,” Aegon says, smirking. “To sniff out any zombies.”

“Yes. Ice too.”

“What about me?” you say, staring incredulously at Aemond.

“Not you. You’re staying here in the RV.”

“If you and Rio are going, I’m going.”

“No, you’re not,” Aemond says. “You’re the best shot, and we all agree about that, but we’re fresh out of bullets. You therefore have no advantage tactically.”

“What’s Luke’s advantage?”

There are awkward chuckles. Aemond leaves the picnic table and gestures for you to follow him. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Why?”

Aemond doesn’t answer; he keeps walking until he’s hidden amongst a small grove of Kentucky coffeetrees, oval emerald leaves and umber seed pods that hang from branches, reminding you of skate egg cases—what some people call mermaid’s purses—you once found washed up on the beach outside Djibouti City. Rio teases you: “Ohhh, you’re in troubleee…”

You swat him on the back of the head; his hair is getting long too, dark curls that flutter in the breeze that comes in off the lake, hot and humid, the infinite wildness of July. “If I’m not going, you have to swear that you’ll—”

“I got it, I got it,” Rio says, blasé and jolly. “I’ll look underneath things, I’ll look on top of things, I’ll look everywhere. Okay?”

Aegon kicks him with his good foot. “Get me a golf club.”

“I’m not a Dick’s!”

“Dicks?! Who brought up dicks, you sicko…?!”

You go after Aemond and meet him in the shade, an island of twilight in the omnipotent golden morning. He pushes you against one of the Kentucky coffeetrees—rough bark to your back, prodding you through your t-shirt—and nuzzles your throat as he presses his hips to yours, blissful clandestine surrender as your knees weaken and you gaze dizzily up into the canopy of leaves.

You sigh: “This is not an explanation. This is a distraction. A very enjoyable one, but a distraction nonetheless.”

“Daeron is good with a bow, but he’s young,” Aemond murmurs. “I need you to help him protect the others.”

“You’ve managed to make this sound like a promotion.”

“And,” Aemond continues. “When things get risky and chaotic, and I’m trying to make sure everyone is safe…I find you being around to be…distracting.”

“Rio doesn’t think I’m a distraction.”

He chuckles, avoidant. “That’s not an equivalent situation.”

“I get that Luke has binoculars, but I am also perfectly capable of using binoculars, and I could borrow his and he could stay here. I really don’t think he’d mind being benched, he’d probably prefer it—”

“I always ask you to stay near Rio, and you never do, and then I have to worry about you getting lost or bitten or imperiled in any one of a million other ways.”

“Because it’s not that simple! Rio gets it, I have to be able to improvise—”

Suddenly, Aemond pulls away and asks: “Do you trust me?”

You are bewildered. “What?”

“Because I could understand if you don’t.”

You search his scarred face; he has that look like he’s trying not to reveal too much of himself, to show that he’s nervous or vulnerable or afraid. You touch your palm to his ravaged cheek, your voice soft. “I trust you, Aemond.”

He seems relived. “Good. Then please stay here.”

“You’ll watch out for Rio?” you say threateningly.

“Of course.”

“And yourself too.”

He grins, those small secretive teeth he loves to hide. “That’s the plan.”

“And you’ll check under things and on top of things, and you’ll remember what I said about the racks? When you go into stores and you’re rummaging through—?”

Aemond kisses you, warm and slow and kind, the curve of his lips pleased and mischievous. “It’s flattering that you’re so concerned.”

“And don’t forget the pads and tampons.”

His scarred eyebrow rises half an inch. “Oh?”

“I’m already having pre-period cramps. I’ll need supplies in a few days.”

“You’ll have them. Don’t fear.” Then he studies you, concerned, his brow furrowing and his palm testing your cheek and forehead. “You feeling okay? You’re sure that’s all it is?”

“Oh yeah, totally. It’s very routine at this point, I’ve had a decade to get accustomed.”

“Alright. If there’s anything else you think of before we head out, I’ll add it to the list.” He takes your hand and examines the shallow scratches left on your wrist by the needlelike teeth of the pike. “Let me clean and wrap that up for you. I think I have just enough bandages left.”

“Your worst nightmare came true,” you joke. “I was bitten after all.”

Aemond doesn’t laugh, doesn’t even smile.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s long after nightfall and you and Aegon are keeping watch just outside the Winnebago Spirit, slumped in folding camping chairs people once told their legends from: scary stories, workplace grievances, familial mythology. In the firepit, logs split and pop, and embers glow a bloody red. You’re waiting for the Tahoe to return and trying not to think about the possibility it might not.

“These suck,” Aegon says, garbled by a mouthful of Cheddar Whales, grimacing at the bright blue box. “Why do you and Rio eat these? They’re like…dodgy Goldfish.”

“Are you kidding?! They’re way better than Goldfish! Goldfish don’t taste like anything.”

“And Cheddar Whales taste like salty cardboard. The American Dream.” Aegon passes the box back to you. “They better come back with some SpaghettiOs or Rice-A-Roni or something. I can’t survive on Cregan’s overcooked fish.” He lights a Marlboro Gold cigarette by sticking it into the fire and takes a deep drag, looking up at the stars. Aemond gave him the last of the morphine before he left, and Aegon is floating on a feathery, narcotic cloud.

You say after at last working up the nerve: “So you’re a slut, right?”

He snickers, firelight dancing on his sunburned face. “Slut, loser, you’ve got me all figured out.”

“Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a slut. Why?”

“Have you ever had trouble…” Your hands flail around aimlessly; it’s so awkward to say out loud. “You know…getting it in?”

“No, not really. But I’m hung like a hamster.” He looks over at you, curious shimmering stoned blue eyes. “Technical difficulties, Chip And Dip? Not enough dipping going on?”

“Forget it. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“You’re probably just nervous. Aemond’s a doctor, he’d be able to tell if you had something wonky down there, like those chicks who are born without a vagina. Or with two vaginas. Jesus Christ, can you imagine the possibilities? Why can’t I meet someone like that?”

You stare into the fire, discouraged. “I’m going to ruin everything.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Aemond will assume it’s his fault. He thinks everything is his fault.”

Through the darkness, you spot headlights bobbing as the Tahoe approaches on bumpy dirt roads. “Oh, thank God. They’re back.”

“About time. If Rio didn’t find me a new golf club, I’m going to drown him in the lake.”

“He could break you in half.”

“But he wouldn’t.”

“No.”

“Because he likes me too much.”

“Right.”

“Maybe you like me too,” Aegon says as he exhales smoke, his glazed eyes listing to you, his grin crooked and drowsy. “Just a little bit.”

You smile reluctantly. “I might.”

“Cool.” He beams up at the stars, and then says again: “Cool.”

As the massive SUV rolls to a halt, the headlights cascading over you and so bright they’re nearly blinding, you notice the red letters on the grill: GMC. “That’s not the Tahoe,” you say, panicked.

“What? Then who is it?”

“I don’t know.” You stand up, instinctively reaching for one of your M9s; but they’re both empty. All the guns are. Your hand drops to your side.

Aegon, unable to rise on his own, remains in his chair and grips the armrests tightly. He whispers: “Should we go inside…?!”

“They’ve already seen us. But they don’t know who’s in the RV.” Rhaena, Baela, Helaena. With a shiver like a bolt of cold lightning, you recall what Aemond said at the bowling alley back in Shenandoah, Ohio: I don’t want them to know we have women with us.

The GMC Yukon is still running when two men step out, the headlights disorientingly bright. They are both armed, you see immediately, pistols that you’d guess are Colts. Aegon’s hand juts out and closes around your forearm as the strangers approach. They are both young, maybe twenty, and wearing jeans, camo jackets, and baseball hats like they’re going hunting. They stand in the yellow-white glow of the headlights as they watch you.

“Hi,” you say congenially, forcing a smile.

The men glance at each other, then one greets you with a nod. “Howdy.”

“We’re set up here,” you say. “But it’s a big campground. You’re welcome to any of the other spots.”

The man who spoke earlier chuckles and scratches at his short beard. You steal a glimpse back at Aegon: his eyes are huge and horrified.

“It’s real quiet on the lake,” you continue. “We haven’t had any problems, and we’ve been here a few days. It’s a good place. We’re happy to share it. We don’t…” You deliberate what words to use. “We aren’t interested in making trouble. We just want to be left alone.”

The man replies: “I camped here every single summer growing up, learned to fish here, swam in the water with my cousins, brought my girlfriends here to fuck. And now you’re inviting me to stay? You’re not from here. I can tell by your accent. This is my backyard. You’re the one who should be asking for permission.”

Aegon is making a low, whimpering sound; his fingernails are digging into the defenseless, downy underside of your forearm. “We don’t have anything of value,” you say, your voice trembling.

“Uh huh.” The stranger’s gaze flicks to the Winnebago.

“We found it. There’s no gas, no keys. Two of the tires are flat. It’s just shelter.”

“Who else is in the RV?”

“No one.”

The second man is squinting at Aegon. “Is he a cripple?”

“He was burned. That’s why we’re resting here for a while, so he can heal.”

The first man points to the bandage on your wrist. “Did you try to kill yourself? My neighbor did that when her kid got eaten. Slit her veins open out in the middle of the street. Bad scene.”

“I got mauled by a fish,” you reply numbly.

He laughs, a slow, rolling, mocking sort of sound, not taking his eyes off you. Then they drop to the Beretta M9s you have holstered at your waist. “Are those loaded?”

“Yes.”

He signals to the nearest Kentucky coffeetree. “Prove it. Shoot that tree.” You stare at its trunk, stark in the headlights of the strangers’ SUV. Long seconds tick by, the only sound the idling of the engine and the crackling of the firepit. “You can’t,” the man says, grinning. “Because you’re out of bullets. But I’m not.”

He raises his pistol and fires, a thunderclap, a mechanical roar. A small circular wound appears in the tree. Aegon shrieks and tries to stand; he tumbles to the earth when the raw, weeping flesh beneath his bandages betrays him. The RV door flies open and Daeron is the first one out, clutching his compound bow but still blinking his way out of the dreams he was jolted from. He won’t be able to nock one of his makeshift arrows before they shoot him.

“What the hell’s going on—?!”

“Drop it!” the stranger shouts, and both he and his companion aim their pistols at Daeron. He freezes. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena exit the RV and begin screaming, clinging to each other.

“Do what they ask,” you tell Daeron, trying to remain calm. With great hesitancy, he sets his bow on the earth and puts his empty palms in the air. There are hunting knives inside the RV, you think. Where did we store them? In a drawer, in a cabinet?

The men are now herding you all into the RV, jabbing the barrels of their pistols against your backs and bellies. “Let’s go, everybody in,” the first one says. The second man hooks an arm forcefully under one of Aegon’s and drags him through the threshold, Aegon yowling as his burned leg smacks against the doorframe. The second man forces Aegon and Daeron to kneel on the floor at the front of the RV near the driver’s seat; the other one arranges the women at gunpoint, instructing you to squeeze together to sit in a row on the floral couch. Helaena—farthest from you and closest to the kitchenette booth—is sobbing and covering her ears. Rhaena appears to be hyperventilating. Baela’s head is held high, her face furious and defiant.

Aemond, Rio, Cregan, please come back…

“Now this is interesting,” the first man is saying to his friend. He uses his pistol to indicate to each of you. “We’ve got G.I. Jane, this delicate little sweetheart, a pregnant lady, and Cinderella. Where should we begin…?”

You glance at Rhaena, catch her wide frenzied eyes, then look meaningfully at the drawers across the aisle near the kitchenette stove and sink. Knife? you mouth.

It takes her a moment to realize what you mean, then she inclines her head, an elusive nod. She remembers where they are, where they were stored once she cleaned them this afternoon in the lake water. That’s good; but in order for Rhaena to grab a large serrated hunting knife, the men will need to be distracted.

“There’s a bed in the back,” the second man is saying. “I can see it from here, down the hallway…”

Your gaze is darting around the Winnebago. Aegon is yelling something; the second man pistol-whips him, fortunately not hard enough to fracture his skull.

“Don’t worry,” the first man tells Aegon, background noise you try to ignore as you search for an opportunity. “You’ll get to watch…”

Helaena is trying to get your attention, staring at you with her wide, gleaming blue eyes. You furrow your brow at her, not understanding…and then you see the burlap strap she’s looped around her wrist. Her messenger bag must be in the kitchenette booth beside her. And as you watch, and only for a second, she arranges her fingers in the shape of a gun.

The Ruger, you realize, amazed, that tiny revolver she was always so repelled by. Helaena never used it, but she still has it. And it’s loaded.

Baela is arguing with the men, words you tune out. Helaena points to you, but you shake your head. There’s no way for her to get the Ruger to you without them seeing. You mouth to Helaena, your face severe: You have to do it. Then you look to the first man, presently waving his pistol in Baela’s face.

“I’d like to go first,” you say casually, and all the noise stops.

“No, no, no, I’ll do it,” Aegon tells the men. “You want a blowjob? You want to fuck me in the ass? I’m down. I’m not scared of no dick. I experimented in college.”

Both strangers burst into hysterical laughter. “That’s a mighty generous offer,” the second one says, swiping a tear from his eye. “But that’s not the team we’re on, is it, Wesley?”

The first man, Wesley, is smiling down at you. His gaze sweeps over your body, from your bare feet to your eyes, calm and level. “Why do you want to go first, darling?”

Shoot him, Helaena. Shoot him right now. “I’ve never done it before. I figure I should give it a try before it’s too late.”

Helaena whips the Ruger out of her burlap messenger bag and opens fire. She winces each time it goes off, and her aim is terrible; bullets pierce the ceiling and the walls, striking nowhere near Wesley or his accomplice, but their panicked ducking buys valuable seconds. Daeron and Aegon tackle the man closest to them and wrestle the pistol from his hands. Aegon presses the barrel to his skull, pulls the trigger, kills him instantly. Rhaena flies to one of the drawers and yanks out a hunting knife ten inches long. She buries it in Wesley’s throat, the blade disappearing until the hilt rests on his collarbone. When she rips it free, scarlet blood jets from his severed carotid artery, spraying you, soaking you. Blood is in your eyes and nostrils, hot coppery carnage; when you scream, you can taste it in your mouth.

People are reaching for you and telling you to calm down, that they’ll help you, but you can’t wait. You use your t-shirt to mop as much of the blood as you can from your face and bolt through the door of the RV, running towards the lake. You drop to your knees on the sand and splash yourself, cool moonlit rivulets that wash the blood away. You’re trembling, you’re crying, and when somebody grabs you by the arm you scream and strike out at them, clawing like an animal.

“It’s me,” Aemond says, and only then do you get a good look at him, blood and lake water beading on your eyelashes. He’s wiping blood off your face with his palms, he’s inspecting you for fresh wounds. “Don’t fight, it’s me, it’s me, whose blood is this, what happened—?!”

“You were right,” Baela says to Aemond from where she stands on the sand, a hand resting on her belly. Drifting from the RV are the voices of the others who have just returned: Rio, Cregan, Luke. “We’re not safe here.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The next night, rain falls as you lie entangled with Aemond in the attic bedroom of a ranch house in Red Desert, Wyoming, flashing lightning and flickering candles illuminating bare skin. You are kissing feverishly, your hands all over each other, and Aemond is pushing himself into you; or, rather, he is trying to. There is pain, and you can feel your body turning treasonous, rejecting him, shrinking away from him, fearing that you’ll never be able to satisfy him.

No, no no no…

His voice is hushed and gentle as his lips brush your ear. “Hey, you’re shaking, why are you shaking?”

“I’m okay, I’m fine, keep going.” And then, when he stops: “No, Aemond, don’t—”

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You have to. I’ll be okay, I promise.”

Instead, he lies down beside you and turns your face to his, fingerprints on the slope of your jaw. He asks again, more firmly: “Why are you shaking?”

All the walls and arches of you collapse, stones tumbling to crack against the earth. You are suddenly fighting tears. Your words come out in a whisper. “I want this to be real.”

He studies your face, distressed. “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t want to ruin it. I don’t want to lose you. I never thought I’d have something like this and now I’m so afraid of fucking it up.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“That’s what Jace thought.”

Aemond pulls you against his chest and holds you as you sink through him into dark, cold, watery dreams, and doesn’t make any more promises he can’t keep.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What time is it on the East Coast right now?” you ask Rio. It’s May and almost a hundred degrees every day in Djibouti City—arid, rainless, sun glare and dust that sting your eyes—so the Navy has you building at night when they won’t have to deal with quite so many Seabees dropping over from heatstroke. Outside the day is turning to a soft lavender dusk and your shift will begin soon. You are dressed—sand-colored t-shirt, camo pants, work boots—and toweling off your hair, still wet from the shower.

Rio is sprawled across the floor of your room, taking up almost all of it; housing at Camp Lemonnier consists of converted shipping containers, each outfitted with its own perpetually whirring air conditioning unit. He is reading Fifty Shades Of Grey. “Like seven hours behind here, so early afternoon, I guess.” Then he looks up at you, suspicious. “Why?”

“I should probably call.”

“Should you really?”

“I want to. I’ll feel guilty if I don’t.”

Rio shakes his head and returns his attention to his reading material. “I’m not going to tell you what to do.”

“You love telling me what to do.”

“I wish you loved listening.” He flips a page, puzzled. “Why the fuck does Sophie like this book so much…?”

You open Facebook Messenger on your phone and make a call. The wifi isn’t good for videos, but old-fashioned audio calls usually work okay. There is an answer on the fourth ring.

“Yeah?” she says, and you can hear the entire house when she turns on speakerphone: the squeaking of the recliner, the droning of a talk show, indistinct speech and chuckling from other people, glass—cups, bottles, baking dishes, ashtrays—clinking sharply.

“Hi, Mama! Happy Mother’s Day!”

“Aw, ain’t you sweet to call.” And you are testing her voice like water from a tap, icy cold, hot enough to scald. At the moment, Mama sounds perfectly lukewarm. “I didn’t count on hearing from you. I know how busy you are.”

That’s a landmine that you step gingerly around. “We definitely have a lot going on here, and there’s the time difference and everything…but I wanted to make sure to say hi, even if I can’t talk for long. What are you up to today?”

“Oh, nothing much.” You hear her smoking: breathe in, breathe out, a cunning sort of pause as she decides how to proceed. Of course there were no extravagant festivities planned. Nothing ever felt like a real holiday at home: Mama getting sloshed and burning the turkey on Thanksgiving, Christmas presents that had to be returned for grocery and gas money, fistfights and doors ripped off hinges on New Year’s Eve. You had decided years ago that Hallmark channel magic was pure fiction…but sometimes you get glimpses of it now. Thanksgiving dinner in some unceremonious chow hall with Rio and your other friends feels more like a holiday than anything else you’ve ever known. “You still in Africa?”

“It’s Djibouti, Mama, I told you. It’s on the Horn. Across the sea is Yemen and Saudi Arabia.”

“Why can’t they put y’all to work in your own goddamn country?”

“Well, we do that too sometimes.” You stall, listening to her smoking. Rio glances up at you from where he’s still reading on the floor. “They have some incredible beaches here. Yesterday morning we went down to the water and there were all these cute kids playing, and they only spoke French but Rio showed them how to play tic-tac-toe by drawing a board in the sand—”

“I like the beach,” she says, and you know you’ve made a mistake. “You remember that?”

Deflated now: “Yeah, Mama. I remember. Are the boys going to take you to Virginia Beach this summer?”

She scoffs. “We’ll see, but I doubt it. It’s expensive, girl.”

You sigh deeply. Rio was right. I shouldn’t have called. “We talked about this. I need to be saving up to get my own house one day, and my own car, and all those things I’ll need to have a life when I get out of the Navy—”

“And what about my house?!” Mama cries, damn near wails. “I’m gonna lose it! I can’t make the payments!”

You reply calmly: “Mama, that’s your house. That’s your business. And you’ve got more than one kid still living at home long after they’ve turned eighteen, so they need to be the people you’re asking to help, not me.”

“You’re gonna let your Mama be homeless? Is that what you called to tell me on Mother’s Day? What the hell kind of daughter are you?”

“I got out!” you shout into the phone, and Rio is scrambling off the floor to rush to you. “I’m learning things and I’m making money and I’m building schools and hospitals on the other side of the fucking planet, and you can’t be proud of me because you think it means you’ve failed, but the truth is that you could have gotten out too! All of you could have! But you didn’t, it was me, it was just me, and now you hate me for it!”

“You need to come home now,” Mama says. “You gotta take care of me, take care of your Mama. You only got one and she needs you, so you gotta heed me. That’s what’s right.”

“I am not going to spend the rest of my life watching you get wasted in that filthy house, and I’d work where, at the Dollar General? At Arby’s? And get knocked up by the first guy who shows any interest?”

“You’re giving me heart palpitations. I’m gonna have to go to the emergency room and it’s all your fault.”

Rio is whispering into your other ear, one of his massive palms resting on the back of your neck: “Just hang up. It’s not worth it. You can hang up, just hang up…”

“I want things to be normal,” you tell Mama, you plead, tears stinging in your eyes. “I’ve tried so hard to get along with everyone, and help you as much as I can, but no matter what I do it’s not enough, and you’re always mad at me, and you’re always fighting with me—”

“You’re damn right I’m fighting with you, because you’re a spiteful, selfish child.”

“Hang up,” Rio is murmuring. “Hang up, hang up, hang up…”

“Mama,” you say, your voice strangled. “I’m sorry. I have to go now.”

“When I’m homeless, you know you got no one but yourself to blame—”

You hit the red button to end the call, throw your phone down onto the bed, stare at the wall and swallow noisily, choking back sobs. You won’t let yourself cry. You’ve cried enough for them already. You have to keep moving forward. The only way out is through. “You were right,” you say to Rio at last, quiet and raspy. Your hands are trembling. “I shouldn’t have called.”

“Hey.” He grabs your face roughly, forces you to look at him with your miserable shimmering eyes, grins hugely. “I’m your mom now, bitch.”

You laugh as tears spill down your cheeks, let him bury you in one of his smothering bear hugs, cling to him like a life raft in a storm.

[darlingofvalyria]

❝You don't think I can please you?❞

part 05 | we're really in it now, darling

chapter summary:

[ Everything comes ahead at a hedge maze because. . . hedge maze. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 4,517 ] [ series masterlist ] | best friend's brother!aemond targaryen x f!reader, ft. cregan stark x f!reader, aemond x alys rivers

contains— angst, a lil smutty but no full whorishness, ya'll good - i should really put idiots in love as a tag shouldn't i - nsfw: grinding + some sexy, sexy second base lmao - no kingslayers, no rogues, no betas.

a/n— i hope ya'll forgive me. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You don't really know what you were expecting come Sunday. Once you started to 'ehh' 'hmmm' and 'maybe's your way through random moments with Helaena after the radio silence from Aemond— your best friend put her foot down.

"Fuck him," Helaena grumbled. "You've been going to Sunday dinners before he was even born, you are not backing down now."

 You snorted. "That's wildly inaccurate."

"Point still stands. Fuck. Him. You deserve my mother's tiramisu cake. He doesn't get to take that from you." Her eyes widen as if trying to instil her determination into your system via eye contact. "You are not going to let him take that from you."

You nodded. That's at least a point to pro you can stand by. Though she can't cook to save her life— Alicent's words, not yours — the woman sure can bake. It became therapeutic for her, she once said. How measuring ingredients and kneading dough to patiently folding cream after another kept her mind quiet and her hands busy.

"My faith strongly does not advise rage shooting, you know?" Alicent once hummed.

"Did you mean 'range' shooting?"

"Oh?" she nodded absentmindedly, smiling. "Yes, that too."

"That's true," you mused. Tiramisu cake was her mother's specialty. Every Sunday, she has all attendees pack up at least one cake per person and you and Hel usually stave off bites throughout the week until the next Sunday comes.  "I deserve some tiramisu cake, gods be damned it."

"Plus, if you come with me, we'll get two cakes to take home instead of one." She wagged her finger. "We count as two separate entities with one fridge, it's our greatest privilege."

"Daeron calls it preferential treatment."

"I am her only daughter, of course I get preferential treatment."

"As you should, bestie."

Even when you've stopped struggling with choosing if you were going or not, your mind is never faraway from thinking about Aemond. You wonder if he's finally gotten back with Alys was a bad train of thought, while an even worse train of thought is how soft his lips were and how he holds your hair to pull you close when his tongue glides across your bottom lip.

You blink, shaken from the thought. Bad. Bad brain. Stop it.

And repeat. At this point, it was safer to think about Alys and Aemond.

According to previous cycles, by this point they'd be at the height of their newly blossomed relationship�� all sweet kisses and heated looks, unable to stop touching each other much less act a little bit better when they're trying to leave a group function to fuck their brains out — so you wouldn't be surprised to see come Sunday that he arrives with Alys— both of them tall, gorgeous with just enough undertone of smirky, smarmy tension that would make you want to stab your own eye out — pointedly ignoring you or whatever happened between you and him.

It hurt to think about sure, but what else did you think was going to happen?

That call made a space the size of a puddle that turned into a lake, welled deep with unresolved feelings and untouched topics. More questions than answers, drawing lines both of you were too scared to tug and see.

It's big enough to notice, and both stubborn enough not to anything about it.

You tried. Well, you almost did. In the weird hours of the day when your brain and body are more physically disjointed so rationality gives way to adrenaline. Most of the time, this is during working hours. You, checking your phone, running around his profile with your thumb a few times, biting your lip as your mind blanks and your body fights to call him. Or leave a message.

Before your mind and body reconnects and you fling your phone as far away from you as possible.

It's weird. You've never fought with Aemond before. If this was considered fighting. You've been disappointed in him, gotten angry and annoyed with him, but someone always, always offers an olive branch.

Every time you think about that call, you close up, your annoyance flares, and you shove your phone away.

In your amicable defense, this was primarily his problem. You weren't truly dating. He made it clear every choice he was making was en toward the agreed conditions were of making his ex jealous enough to take him back, yada yada yada.

Even if, possibly, you wanted more, he made no actual steps to make it known that he was considering it too.

Funny stares on your lips don't count. The only sabbatical from sexual adventures Aemond got were the breakup round with Alys, and as established before, they got it on pretty frequently.

Another thought bubble about Aemond's lips pops in your head, the mint from his toothpaste and the coffee from his black with no sugar, no milk, the way he seemed to suckle on your sighs—

Gods. Damn. It.

Focus.

That last call?

You're a grown ass woman. You're allowed to do whatever you want with whomever you want, and you're not going to make Aemond Targaryen's steely silence of what— disappointment? Of your choices? Of your choice in Cregan Stark and Cregan Stark Jr? Of what you were doing? Sure he was faithful to the Seven, a good old religious boy raised by his momma, but it doesn't make him a saint. Just because he's clinging to the vestiges of first love thinking it could very well be his last doesn't make him holy, or warrant enough to judge you for getting your little you some good dick.

Life is hard. Good dick is hard to come by!

So. Yeah. Days leading up to Sunday was radio silence and way too many thoughts circling your head like vultures, eating away at logic and rationality, and stubbornly still, you refused to make contact. If it's not out of pride, it's out of hurt.

Because he could apologise, but Aemond wasn't known for his apologies.

But then you remembered the flowers, the tulips, and now you just felt sad. Moping, getting annoyed, and trying to get through work without breaking your phone speeds the week in a blur.

Come Sunday afternoon, Helaena was coming to pick you up from her shift at the vet— the beauty of having a vet bff is the Russian roulette of pictures; you never know if you're about to get cuddly new patients with big, sad eyes and pouty snouts or her newest c-section win without any attempts of a blur — so you could get to her mother's house together, you decided to go for the nines with your outfit.

A sweet summer dress later, some gold gladiator sandals half off from your favourite but largely can't afford shoe boutique that you swear you were always going to wear to make up for the insane price (thank the gods Alicent didn't have a no shoe policy because it takes fifteen minutes to get them on and you cannot be on the floor, on her house, with Aemond around, rolling around like a hot potato on the entry way trying to get a fucking shoe on), dusted and prepped in you're fancier version of makeup, and was just finishing off your hair— using the good mousse whilst blaring Disney epics — when knocking came.

You freeze.

On one hand, it could just be Helaena, forgetting her keys again somewhere as she had done so numerous times before, but there hadn't been a slew of expletives or her impression of a cool, clinical voice saying, ''Tis I, the Stranger, have come for thee soul! Open up I gotta pee, woman!' so you got a pretty good guess on the alternative, sending your heart into a stutter and get smacked with a well deep of yearning.

You miss Aemond. You miss hanging out with him, even just having him on video call whilst you prepped a late dinner and he's working out his thesis defense, too late for either of you, but catching another's eye in the tiny phone and sharing a comforted grin. You miss being called my lady in a language that means so much to him, miss bumping shoulders and smelling his crisp scent of cologne and laundry.

Miss his lips, his very soft, very delicious lips—

"Gods damnit, woman, keep it together," you murmur to yourself. Another series of knocks, ever patient, and you're moved by body not mind as breathless giddiness yanks the door open—

Only to fall flat.

"Oh." You can't hide your disappointment at the curly blond with the smirk for centuries. "Aegon. I didn't know it was you."

"Yes, the expressive disappointment in your eyes could bring a man on the edge to his downfall, I must say," he jokes hoarsely, a little hurt. "Not even a hi Aeg. I've missed you Aeg, or— hey Aeg! You look good enough to eat!"

It's Aegon. Not Aemond. Or Helaena. Helaena and Aemond's older brother, Aegon. Party rocking, cocaine hiding, sweat and someone's lipstick smelling Aegon. You like him despite his whorishness because he's funny, because he's sweet when he wants to be, and he always, always gets you a funny mug when he comes back from wherever he came from.

You blink a couple of times, laughing awkwardly as you give him a quick hug. He still smells the same, with the lightest tint of sun in him from his days at the beach not so long ago no doubt.

"Sorry, sorry. Hi Aeg, I've missed you Aeg, and yes, you do look good enough to eat, Aeg."

He hugs back tighter, smothering you in the denim jacket he's wearing and the curly edge of his white blond hair. He's got a new piercing and smells of new perfume.

"So do you, princess," he says as you step back and he appraises you appreciatively. "Those shoes can step on me any time."

"I will never."

"You will never," he says chirpily, moving back with a teasing grin. "Let me guess, you were waiting for my uglier version to come by and got too overwhelmed by the majesticness of me."

'"Majesticness isn't even a word." You snort. "And Aemond is not your uglier version, you don't look that alike."

He raises an eyebrow as you blink. Fuck. "Dear me oh my, I meant Helaena, babe. When did Aemond get into the mix?"

You shove his shoulder, huffing as you pick up your keys and bag, forcing him to step back as you lock the apartment, trying to give yourself grace from his burning, teasing stare. "As if Helaena didn't tell you." You finally turn to him, lips pursed at his faux innocent pout. "Helaena tells you everything."

"She might have mentioned a thing or two about a thing or two." He bumps your hip as you both get into the elevator. "Imagine my surprise when Lae-lae tells me of a wondrous development between her two favourite people that involved a breakup, some gift-giving shenanigans, and kissing." He gasps dramatically as you groaned. "I leave for what— a month or two and suddenly you and Aemond are making out? Babe, I must say, you're doing the tongue tango with the wrong brother."

 "He's not the wrong brother, also the tongue tango? Really?" you snap suddenly. The wrong brother comments always irk you because you understand that it's a sensitive issue to Aemond, as well as Aegon himself.

But it's a bait you realise too late because Aegon Targaryen enjoys hauling truths from people in steps and tricks, uncaring if he takes a stab or two to get there as you meet his gaze against the reflective wall, positively smirking.

"Really now?"

"Why are you even picking me up? I thought you were in Oldtown."

"Already sorted. Hel wanted to make sure you get there in time, she's going to be late... After all your earlier ride backed out didn't he?"

Your mouth pursed, annoyance prickling at your edges as the elevator pulled into the lobby. "I don't want to talk about it, where's your car?"

He whistles, languid and all the time in the world on his shoulders with just the hint of smug. "It's a thirty minute ride, babe, you're going to spill."

You shoot him a withering glare. "Not if I have say in it." For emphasis, you yank his door and slam it. Fuck his new Maserati.

"Mature!"

Thirty minutes is more than ample time for Aegon Targaryen to weed his way into your brain like the worst case of earworm (like a stupid ass commercial jingle that just. Won't. Stop) that by the time you reach his mother's, you were ranting.

"—like I get it, saying I'm going out with another guy to get some good dick after confirming that we're going to your mother's for Sunday as a date is bad, but we're not really dating! He said so himself! He pressed the issue of it not being a real thing! And he didn't attempt any—"

"— any communication at all," Aegon echoes, stretching his legs as he stood. "Not a sorry or anything."

"Anything!" you bolster, slamming his door again that is less about him and more about the aggressiveness. "I know that he's bad at apologising, or facing things that are hard, choosing to stew in it and act all shitty to people, I just... I thought he'd at least tell me. Doesn't that warrant our friendship?"

"Hm. Ever think that's precisely why he struggles with you?"

"What does that even mean?"

"That he cares about you, so he struggles more with expressing himself."

You turn to him, cocking your head. "When did you get so wise, oh Gandalf?"

"A Seven focused rehab facility can do that to you," he muses wistfully. "There was this nun that says verses when she orgasms."

You make a face. "Love the fun fact."

"You're welcome. But back to point, isn't the issue also the fact that you never tried to make contact with him either?"

"Well. Yeah. Because..."

Aegon squints at you sympathetically. "Because you're scared of rocking the boat because of how much you like him?"

"Not, well," you hesitate. "Not like that precisely..."

"How much you're capable of liking him?" Aegon smiles wryly. "You had a crush on him, I remembered that at least. When Hel first introduced you to him, you couldn't stop teasing him until he lit up like a Christmas tree. I knew you liked him since then. You called him pretty half the time, and I started to realise it was less about his reaction but how you actually see him, and speaking as the naturally cherub, pretty boy of the family, I find this highly, highly offensive."

You pinch his cheeks, wounding your arm over his shoulder. Aegon was built like a linebacker with less muscles that aren't postern, with wide shoulders and a strong body that's too easy to lean against.

"You're pretty too, Aeg," you coo. "But he's just..."

 "If you say ethereal, I will vomit right in my mother's petunias." He makes a face. "How about this. The problem is that you think Aemond doesn't like you back."

You frown at him. "I know Aemond doesn't like me back."

"Oh, sweetie," Aegon coos, sympathy and pity swirling in his smug, smug smile. "I'm so glad you're pretty."

You pinch his sides until he squirms. "Fuck you, what the hell?"

"What I'm saying is, let's test that, you know? Because that's the only variable you aren't sure with?"

You sigh. "Aeg, even if he does, I'm not going to pounce—"

The door swings open, and there he is, of pretty boy face and good boy posture because his mother raised herself a good, devout boy who doesn't know what a slouch is because he's not an ape— and is he wearing his leather jacket? Of course he's wearing the leather jacket and you know that smell, that spiced cologne with the leather and his natural scent and fuck, Aemond is looking at you, looking at his brother, and the open expression, the shock, that smidge of relief— shutters to an icy politeness.

Aegon because he's Aegon, pulls you closer, his mouth curling into a grin that only says trouble, forcing Aemond to straighten up his already perfect posture in preparation for whatever his brother has in mind and his stare is white-hot on the conjoined appendages between you and his brother— and Aegon lands a wet, smacking kiss on your cheekbone.

"Had to pick up your girl, baby bro, I mean what kind of—" his blue gaze finds his mother descending the stairs, peering out to see on who it was, and you're frozen, waiting for the bomb to drop and simultaneously unprepared for it, "— boyfriend has his brother pick up his girl? Good thing you got a good excuse, huh? Oh, hey mother dearest! Your favourite son has come back!"

As Aegon leaves your side with a cheeky little wink, you bit your lip at the frosty look on his face that makes you feel like an absolute idiot and fills you with rage all in one go. Because Aemond has never looked at you like that, like you were at fault and acting like a child, but that you also want to jut a finger against his chest.

"Did you have a nice talk with him on the drive over?" he says, jaw hard.

"I didn't tell him," you hiss, taking the hem of his leather jacket instead of his hands enough so you can pretend to kiss his cheeks because his mother is right there, eyes wide at that two of you as Aegon gave you a discreet thumbs up.

"Helaena did. Get over yourself, your mother's—"

 "Aemond?"

As he freezes and Alicent calls your name, you plaster the best smile you can make as you twine your fingertips with his.

"Smile."

"Hm."

When you leave his side to greet Alicent, you make sure to stomp on his stupid shoes.

As soon as you've finished your mandatory greetings— even with Otto Hightower, Aemond's grandfather, who merely raised his eyebrows at the apparent new status of you and his grandson, Alicent having to blink multiple times, wrangling positives as she kept shooting her son looks while he stood like a block of ice behind you — Aemond takes your hand by his own volition, tangles your fingers too tight, and starts tugging you along like a bouy.

"Are you a child?" you hiss, trying to pry your hand as insistently without outright yanking, Alicent already sending you both concerned looks at a news that she called 'oh, that is wonderful!'

"I am younger than you," he murmurs back, holding you tight.

"Oh, fuck you."

With a defeated huff, you take longer, heavier strides and stomps so you're the one dragging him.

It's all illusion of control built on pettiness because you're still being navigated, it's more just pride at this point, but you don't care, and when he scoffs right back, you felt at least a pinch of a win.

And then he, of course, matches your strides so fucking easily.

"Freaking horse-legged motherfucker," you mumble. You don't know if he catches it, or you're imaging the soft, surprised noise that's both a snort and a laugh.

He winds you around the hallway, an unbreakable trajectory to the backyard, dragging you past an easy eye view from the dramatic, floor to ceiling windows and trespassing straight into the hedge maze because of course they had one of those.

"Really? Here?"

"Do you want to be ogled up by my mother?" he says in a nauseatingly chipper voice. "Is that what you and Aegon are planning with all this, hm?"

You twist out of his grip, walking deeper on your own until your eyes are swallowed by the darkness. When you turn to him, your eyes adjust, only seeing the silver of his hair, so different from his black leather jacket and dark green jumper. You don't see his expression or his sharp gaze.

"Planned this? Seriously? Nothing since coming here had been planned, Aemond," your voice has bite and if your eyes had adjusted faster, or if you could see better, you would see the flinch he makes, "if it had been, this certainly would be the last of my fucking choices. Or do I have to remind you of the fact that we were supposed to go together? Oh right, things change when you drop a call out of fucking nowhere!"

"I—fuck." He moves around, a hand through his hair as exhales in frustration. "I didn't... think you'd want to go with me. That Sunday plans had been cancelled."

"And you didn't think to message? I mean it's not like we're friends in literally every social media." You try not to sound hurt before taking a deep breath, offering your palms up. "I didn't—don't even know what the issue is, Aemond. Were you so offended that I was sexually active that you just had to rudely drop the call and not talk—"

It's maybe the darkness, or intuition but you can bet half yours savings that Aemond Targaryen is blushing.

"It... gods, no it's not... I wasn't offended that you were sexually active," he says softly, evenly. He clears his throat. "I don't... mind that you're... sexually active. I actively... support it. Even." He coughs. Swallows. Curses.

If you don't feel like your heart is pounding in your throat you would have laughed. You had never seen the boy this flustered before that it's affecting his words, because Aemond has always been the most well spoken person you know.

"Is it about Cregan? Do you have something against Cregan?"

His eye flutter close. "No... and yes."

"I don't understand, Aemy," you whisper, defeated.

He sighs. In the dark, you notice a movement. His hands flex. It's a habit he's had since you've known him. It's instinct. The way you reach out, finding a piece of his leather jacket until you find your way to his hands, running your fingers over the bones and ridges, his sinew and skin. There are callouses from his fencing, running your thumb over his knuckles.

He's frozen first before he sighs, melting through the warmth you share with him.

 "I have nothing against Stark," he finally says. "It's the fact that you were still having sex with him that I found unfair." He steps closer until you can see his face better, the struggle in him can be told through the furrow in his brows and the press of his pillowy lips, red and wet as if he had bitten through it. "I... understand that we're not really together, but I couldn't... not feel as if it wasn't right. As if I wanted it to be me."

His hands finds your arms, eye closing and gently placing his forehead against your own. At first you panic, your body trying to make your brain decide do you like this or not but it's Aemond, and he's warm, gentle, sweet almost. It's familiar and new at the same time. It's warmth you recognise, skin you will know anywhere, but in a way that you've never felt him before.

You close your eyes and breathe with him.

You know that this is rare. That this Aemond is reserved for people he loves and cares about, but with his forehead against yours, with his hands holding you steady, rubbing a comforting thumb over your skin that felt just as for him as it was for you, breathing you in and exhaling you out. A single breath between two bodies.

"I don't know if I can agree to that, Aemy."

"What?" He pulls back, hurt pulling taunt your favourite pair of lips. "Do you like Cregan more? You don't think I can please you?"

"That's not—"

His hands closes on your face, cupping it in his palms as you stare, wide-eyed at the blue fire lit up in his eye. His breath brushes your lips, making them tingle.

"Push me away if you don't want it," he says before his eye closes and he takes your mouth against his own, swallowing your gasp then pulling you away again, eye glinting.

"Push me away, ñuha riña." His voice is so soft, words crisp while your body thrummed in a single, frantic heartbeat. When you don't move, too shock, thoughts tangled, he smirks.

With his teeth, he captures your bottom lip, grazing it. When he feels you shudder, eyes fluttering, he chuckles meanly.

"Push me away as if you don't want me." He tilts your chin up as he looks down on you, eye confident in its lust. His thumb brushes your bottom lip. "As if you don't feel everything I do."

"Fuck you," you manage to exhale as you grab the back of his head and devour him just as you did at the restaurant. He groans, using his other hand to feel your side, pass your one breast, giving it a firm squeeze that makes you gasp, tongue clashing, legs tangling as you push and push and he pulls you to him, his back hitting the prickly hedge. It's teeth and tongue, breaths twisted in one air as you used each other like lifelines, like enemies in a swords match.

It's feverish and passion, infuriating want that gives. Because when you dominate the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own, yanking him down and down as if you want him to reach every part of you inside, he bends and follows. And when he pulls you, tangles your hair and takes every gasp and breath, you surrender.

He groans when you suck on his bottom lip, pulling away just enough to spit out, "You taste so much better than my dreams." His mouth moves down and down, leaving a path of heat as he suckles at your neck, practically ripping the buttons of the top of your dress as he slides down and grunts in pain.

"A-Aemy?" Your eyes flutter. "Your back, shit—"

"Fuck that." He tugs you down until you land with an oomph! on his lap, your chest at his eye level before he drags them back to your gaze. "Tell me to stop."

You shake your head, tangling your fingers in his hair. "No."

"Good."

Your back arches, supported in his hold, as he starts sucking the skin lower and lower, another hand massaging your tit that pools hot down your core until his hand, warm and solid, sinew and bone, and Aemond Aemond Aemond, slides between your bra and cups your breast and his hand is so big, and it feels so good that you start grinding on the hard length you feel right at your—

An ear-splitting shriek freezes the both of you. You and Aemond pull back, hand still on your tit.

"Wha—"

"Ew, ew, ew! Mom said you were fighting! FIGHTING DOES NOT EQUATE FUCKING IN THE MAZE, YOU FUCKING CLICHES!"

TAGGED: @snowprincesa1 @gemini-mama @fan-goddess @snh96 @valeskafics @opheliaas-stuff @tempo-rary-fix @fantasticpeaceharmony @diannnnsss @iamavailablesstuff @spinachtz @at-a-rax-ia @bespinnn @tsujifreya @moonlightfoxx @kemillyfreitas @joyouart @bananzaa @honey-on-mars @alexa4040 @cinnamonbambii @wintrr13 @wxb-slingrr @astroswift @queenofshinigamis @helaenaluvr @kaetastic @jxdegodfrey @laniii-on-your-left @watercolorskyy @microwaveallthedemons @kazuyatokue @herfantastyworldd @averyyreads @urmomsgirlfriend1 @bellstwd @jiminie-08 @ttkttt @nockerin @backyardfolklore @random-ocity @hc-geralt-23 @vendettasblog @cicaspair418 @malynn @anehkael @schadenfreude-and-sarcasm

[julibf]

Sansa Stark and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight 

Prince Aemon Targaryen, the Dragonknight, by Chillyravenart ©

It's very interesting to notice that Sansa absolutely adores the love story between Queen Naerys and her brother Prince Aemon, the brave Knight name will frequently appear on her chapters all over the books. For those who don't know, the rumours tell the story that Prince Aemon was madly in love with his sister Princess Naerys.

Naerys was very close to Aemon but was forced by her father to marry her other brother Aegon the Unworthy. The singers say that Prince Aemon cried during the wedding and Naerys also cried during the bedding ceremony. Some will say that their love was caste and pure and that nothing happened between them, others will swear that Naerys first son, prince Daeron, was from her affair with the Dragonknight. There are several tales and rumours about their relationship.

"Naerys loved Prince Aemon the most out of her two brothers, as he knew how to make her laugh. Aemon was also more like Naerys in character, while Prince Aegon was not. Yet, in 153 AC, Naerys was married to Aegon at their father's orders. The singers like to claim that both Aemon and Naerys wept during the ceremony, but the truth is different: Aemon is known to have quarreled with Aegon during the feast, and Naerys wept during the bedding, not the actual wedding.[1] Prince Aemon joined the Kingsguard soon after the wedding, at the age of seventeen."

So, lets go to the books. Literally in her first chapter of A GAME OF THRONES, we have Sansa comparing Joffrey with Prince Aemon. You can see from the way Sansa talks how much she loves this tale and her hero, the Dragonknight.

"A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders. (A Game of Thrones - Sansa I)

Later, when Ned Stark informs Sansa that she and Arya are leaving Kings Landing and are going back to Winterfell, she tells him she can not go and compares the love she feels for Joffrey like the love Queen Naerys felt for her brother Prince Aemon.

"Who cares about your stupid dancing master?" Sansa flared. "Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." 

"Sweet one," her father said gently, "listen to me. When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. This match with Joffrey was a terrible mistake. That boy is no Prince Aemon, you must believe me."(A Game of Thrones - Sansa III)

In A CLASH OF KINGS, when Princess Myrcella is being sent away to Dorne, for her marriage alliance with Prince Trystan, little prince Tommen is crying because he will miss his sister and Sansa tries to console the poor boy telling him the tale of Prince Aemon.

Horns blew fanfares as Lionstar and Lady Lyanna pushed out from shore, moving downriver to clear the way for Seaswift. A few cheers went up from the crush along the banks, as thin and ragged as the clouds scuttling overhead. Myrcella smiled and waved from the deck. Behind her stood Arys Oakheart, his white cloak streaming. The captain ordered lines cast off, and oars pushed the Seaswift out into the lusty current of the Blackwater Rush, where her sails blossomed in the wind—common white sails, as Tyrion had insisted, not sheets of Lannister crimson. Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry."

"Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound." (A Clash of Kings - Tyrion IX)

When Sansa is having nightmares about the riots in Kings Landing and for heroes like the Dragonknight that she calls to save her.

That night Sansa dreamed of the riot again. The mob surged around her, shrieking, a maddened beast with a thousand faces. Everywhere she turned she saw faces twisted into monstrous inhuman masks. She wept and told them she had never done them hurt, yet they dragged her from her horse all the same. "No," she cried, "no, please, don't, don't," but no one paid her any heed. She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard. (A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV)

Now we are getting ready for the Blackwater Battle, Sansa has joined Queen Cersei in Maegor's Keep where all the high born ladies are gathered. Cersei is explaining Sansa what happens when a city is sacked and invaded and that many women will be raped and murdered.

"True knights would never harm women and children." The words rang hollow in her ears even as she said them.

"True knights." The queen seemed to find that wonderfully amusing. "No doubt you're right. So why don't you just eat your broth like a good girl and wait for Symeon Star-Eyes and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight to come rescue you, sweetling. I'm sure it won't be very long now." (A Clash of Kings - Sansa V)

Sansa loves the love songs so much that she even cries when she listen the singers telling those sad and romantic tales.

After the meal had been cleared away, many of the guests asked leave to go to the sept. Cersei graciously granted their request. Lady Tanda and her daughters were among those who fled. For those who remained, a singer was brought forth to fill the hall with the sweet music of the high harp. He sang of Jonquil and Florian, of Prince Aemon the Dragonknight and his love for his brother's queen, of Nymeria's ten thousand ships. They were beautiful songs, but terribly sad. Several of the women began to weep, and Sansa felt her own eyes growing moist. (A Clash of Kings - Sansa VI)

For me all those references to Aemon and his Queen Naerys is a big foreshadow of the future romance between Jon and Sansa, not only she doesn't seem to mind the romance between brother and sister, she seems to wish this kind of romance in her life. Funny enough, guess who was trying to be Prince Aemon the Dragonsknight in his childhood plays???? That would be Jon Snow!!!!!

Every morning they had trained together, since they were big enough to walk; Snow and Stark, spinning and slashing about the wards of Winterfell, shouting and laughing, sometimes crying when there was no one else to see. They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm PrinceAemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out, and Robb would shout back, "Well, I'm Florian the Fool" (A Storm of Swords - Jon XII)

And another curious detail I noticed, Maester Aemon at Castle Black was named for the Dragonknight. We all know he was a big influence on Jon's life and he was the one who tells Jon how love is the death of duty!!!!!!

A toothless smile quivered on the ancient lips. "Only a maester of the Citadel, bound in service to Castle Black and the Night's Watch. In my order, we put aside our house names when we take our vows and don the collar." The old man touched the maester's chain that hung loosely around his thin, fleshless neck. "My father was Maekar, the First of his Name, and my brother Aegon reigned after him in my stead. My grandfather named me for Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, who was his uncle, or his father, depending on which tale you believe. Aemon, he called me …" (A Game of Thrones - Jon VIII)

I think Sansa will have NO PROBLEM falling in love with Jon Snow and having a romance with him. He will be her WolfKnight, and there love will be a beautiful song!!!

PS- It feels sooo good writing about ASOIAF, SANSA, JONSA AND ALL again. I missed this a lot, just wished we could get Winds of Winter soon. I want to read about them, not only write metas about future storylines, sigh!!!!!

[aemonds-sapphire]

Innuendo

Summary: Aemond shows up with suspicious marks on his neck and chaos ensues.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Warnings: Just some comic relief. Aegon being Aegon. Daeron being a cluelessly endearing. Sweet Helaena and her bugs. Alicent losing her patience.

Word count: 700

“What are those marks on your neck, brother?”

“Hmm.”

“Brother?”

“Bruises,” Aemond eventually spoke before taking a sip of his mead.

Daeron’s natural inquisitive nature was as adorable as it was inconvenient.

And right now it was extremely inconvenient.

“Well, yes… but how did you get them?” he said as he craned his neck to get a better look. “Does it hurt?”

Aemond said nothing as he glared at you from the corner of his eye, his silence bearing enough judgement. He was definitely not pleased with the attention those marks were earning him.

To make matters worse, Daeron Targaryen could be as perceptive as his elder brother, so he followed his gaze and turned his head to you.

“Do you know of this, my lady?”

You cleared your throat, suddenly wishing you were skilled enough to dodge this matter. “It sometimes happens… when… huh…”

Gods… what a reply.

Daeron held a puzzled look on his handsome face for a moment before breaking into a boyish smile. “Ah! Were you two sparring?”

“With lips,” Helaena’s faint and delicate voice was suddenly heard as she fondled the beetle resting in the palm of her hand.

Aemond nearly choked and you felt a wave of embaressment wash over you.

She wasn’t wrong at all… things between you and Aemond had gotten heated the night before and you couldn’t help having your lips on his neck, gently suckling.

Daeron’s face twisted into a confused frown. “What do—”

Aemond sat upright, ready to intervene. “Daeron—”

“Aegon!” you beamed so loudly it caused the young prince to flinch as he paced towards the table.

“Not so loud!” he groaned with a roll of his eyes, covering both ears before sinking into the seat next to Daeron.

Truth be told, you had never felt so relieved to see him. His presence would definitely cause the subject to die out.

Right?

Your uncharacteristic outburst of joy earned an eyebrow raise from Aemond. “Daeron I can handle, but Aegon can be… insufferable,” he whispered in your ear, placing his hand on your thigh, giving it a warning squeeze. “Do not draw his attention to us.”

You swallowed hard and nodded, offering Aegon a forced smile who didn’t return the gesture as his face dropped to his hands with a grunt.

“You’re late,” Daeron shot at him with the slightest hint of a pout.

“I’m never late. All of you are just… early,” Aegon replied with a dismissive wave that seemed way too exaggerated.

“Are you drunk already, brother?”

Aegon lifted his head and crossed eyes with Aemond. “Always so observant,” he said. “But no… not yet, at least.”

Aemond had warned you not draw attention, yet he was the one foolish enough to taunt his brother, whose attention had now suddenly shifted.

“Say, brother… what are those marks on your neck?”

You cursed inwardly as Aemond’s grip around your thigh tightened.

“They were sparring,” Daeron chimed in, endearingly clueless as always.

Aegon’s eyebrow immediately shot up. “Sparring? You managed to best Aemond?” he then glanced at you in utter disbelief.

“Not everyone is as incompetent in close combat as you, brother,” Aemond came to the rescue with mocking words.

Aegon could be a drunken fool most of the time, but he was not easily swindled and could read in between the lines like no other.

“Interesting,” he drawled out, visibly reining in a grin. “See, I doubt those marks came from sparring.”

“Is he sick?” Daeron’s eyes widened.

Aegon chuckled and you felt Aemond stiffened next to you. “Not quite, little brother.”

You panicked and blurted out the first thing that came to your mind. “Aegon, would you be so kind as to introduce me to Sunfyre?”

That caught him off guard. “What?”

“So what are those marks?” Daeron’s eyes shifted between you and Aemond.

“Made with lips,” Helaena spoke again, absentmindedly as expected of her as she patted her pet beetle.

Aegon gave her a long and odd look. “Must you carry your bugs everywhere?”

She merely shrugged happily with a smile on her face. You envied her ability to distance herself from the this complete mess of a conversation.

“Aegon,” you pressed, completely ignoring Daeron. “I really wish to meet Sunfyre.”

He chuckled loudly. “I know you’re into riding dragons—”

Daeron seemingly understood that reference and gasped, a faint blush rushing to his cheeks.

“Enough!” Aemond slammed his fist on the wooden table, effectively bringing the commotion to a halt. The servants nearby jolted back before freezing in place, as Helaena’s beetle hurriedly crawled away from her hand.

“By the Gods!” Queen Alicent’s exasperated voice echoed through the hall. “Can we not break fast without starting a war?”

She squeezed your shoulder warmly as she walked past you.

“Aemond, what is that on your neck?” Alicent asked as she paced towards him to get a better look. “That looks painful.”

“Do not worry, mother,” he said through gritted teeth. “A small… predicament.”

“Aemond has been indulging in a newfound style of close combat, mother,” Aegon said dramatically, knowing fully well that could set Aemond off quite easily.

“He’s already had too much to drink, mother,” Aemond said plainly, but the hand on your thigh was proof enough that he was getting impatient.

“By the Gods, Aemond…” Alicent sighed heavily as she pinched the bridge of her nose. “We are having visitors today. That is no way to present yourself,” she said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. “Go get changed.”

Aegon’s smile grew wider but soon dropped as Alicent turned to him. “And you… please go take a bath and sober up.”

He rolled his eyes. “I am not drunk, mother.”

Aemond held a triumphant expression on his face as he too another sip.

Your heart slowed down into a steady rhythm and you offered Daeron a smile. “All is well.”

Aegon leaned forward as he rose from his seat until he was close enough for you to hear his voice. “Didn’t know you were this… feisty,” he then took his leave before Aemond could get to him with his free hand.

You shot him a death glare, which was enough to earn Daeron’s attention. The indication that he had finally caught up with true nature of those marks was splattered across his face.

“You two weren’t sparring, were you?”

Alicent’s brow quirked up. “Sparring?”

Aemond heaved a deep sigh and turned to face his younger brother. “One day you’ll find a partner and I can guarantee you that things might get out of hand in the heat of the moment.”

Alicent’s mouth hung open. “Oh…”

Daeron nodded as he swallowed hard, lowering his gaze to avoid yours. “I… see…” he said. “Now I understand why Helaena spoke of lips…”

The girl sitting next to you smiled widely at her brother as if talking about something extremely amusing. “Precisely,” she nodded enthusiastically with a clap of her hands. “I think it suits you, brother,” she then said to Aemond who rolled his eyes.

“Oh Gods…” Alicent groaned in exasperation.

[writingsofwesteros]

#the families

Aemond stalks over to the bed, his lean frame captured on the camera as he begins to crawl onto the bed. The sweet daughter of Rhaenyra was resting on Daeron’s chest before strong hands seized her waist and flipped her lower half of her body over. She is still clinging to Daeron wide-eyed as Aemond lifts her hips up to meet his own, pushing her upper body flat against his brother. She’s bent in a way that has her cunt exposed to him and the camera as Aemond lines himself up with her puffy cunt. Aegon had left her leaking and swollen, and yet the younger brother has no qualms as he swiftly thrusts into the girl. Daemon watching stifles a groan at the whine his stepdaughter lets out as she feels his cock against her overly sensitive walls. She can’t keep her hips up as Aemond begins to piston into her, setting a quick and brutal pace, and the man has to firmly grip her hips to hold her in place.

Daemon hears Rhaenyra making calls in the next room, likely about trying to find her daughter and save her. ‘Save her from what?’ he thinks, as he witnesses the girl moan and writhe as she is brought to the edge. Daeron gives her short kisses once she begins to cry from the pleasure, her hips attempting to pull away from Aemond’s thrusts. Instead, the men work together to keep her still as she begins to squirt around Aemond’s cock, squealing as it doesn’t stop and Aemond keeps going. The puddle on the bed below her grows as the man chases his own orgasm, and Daemon finds himself growing hard again as the girl begins to fade from the pleasure. He watches Aemond finally cums in her, mixing his seed with his brothers, as neither of the three brothers seem to care that the girl is crumpled against Daeron’s chest, her body unable to take anymore. Daemon reaches to palm himself again when the video suddenly cuts off and he groans. He quickly covers himself as the door opens.

Rhaenyra walks in, tear marks evident on her face as she speaks, “Corlys thinks she may be at the Hightower Estate in the countryside. I don’t know how we can get her out of there without getting ourselves killed Daemon! Oh my poor girl…”

Her poor sweet daughter is stuck in the estate with the three obsessed brothers now, though their uncle Gwayne and mother Alicent also reside there - and they seem to be showing an interest in the girl…

Aemond taking what he wants without care and we love him for it.

Poor thing has completely faded by the time he is done ad he smirks down at the mess they've made of her. All the while Daeron hums and whispers sweet nothings as she cuddles into him as she sleeps.

Her poor sweet daughter is stuck in the estate with the three obsessed brothers now, though their uncle Gwayne and mother Alicent also reside there - and they seem to be showing an interest in the girl…

Sweet girl..it has not even ended for her..

[francesminos-tt]

modern au where the Targs are an influential and obviously famous family (they're like the Kardashians LOL and everyone wants to know about every aspect of their lives)

after the death of Viserys, the media exposes several dirty secrets of some family members and the rivalry of years even after the marriage of targ/velaryons boys, has not extinguished the fire and hatred between Rhaenyra and Alicent.

Rhaenyra and Alicent hate each other, but they are intelligent women and had the brilliant idea of making a reality show so that people could follow the day-to-day life of the Targaryen/Hightower/Velaryon family and realize that there is no war there.

Joff was "raised" to marry Daeron. From an early age, it was explained to him that this was a duty he had to fulfill, just like his older brothers. At first, he found the idea, it wasn't fair, but gradually he came to terms with it, especially because his older uncle was so charming, so handsome and kind. Joff quickly fell in love and was suddenly excited about the wedding.

but to Joff's surprise and disappointment, the wedding was a disaster. on the couple's honeymoon, Daeron refused to have sex with Joff and made his contempt and anger at the union very clear. in front of the cameras, they are the sweet, couple in love , they are what teenagers call relationship goals, but when they are alone, Daeron doesn't even bother to pretend that Joff exists. Just as he's good at faking a passionate smile for Joff when a paparazzi is around, he's also good at treating Joff with coldness and indifference.

It's not surprising that, some time after getting married, Daeron has a mistress and doesn't make a point of hiding it from Joffrey.

When Rhaenyra and Alicent announce the reality show, they make it very clear that now they all have to pretend 24/7, and this makes Daeron FURIOUS, because now he has to get rid of his mistress, adapt his daily routine to spend more time with Joff and, above all, SHARE the same room.

I want to ask you to write something with these ideas, please. whatever you want!

I like modern nepo bbism 😝

The two matriarchs of Targaryen/Velaryon/Hightower family called an emergency meeting in the dining room. The room was so spacious that it was better called hall rather than room. There was a long table in the middle, made of the best mahogany and lined with the most intricate carvings of the Targaryen dragon sigil.

Alicent and Rhaenyra sat at the head of table and waited for everyone to arrive. Frist came Jacaerys, always the dutiful son, followed closely by another dutiful son, Aemond, with Lucerys trailing behind his one-eyed uncle/husband.

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow at Alicent, as if showing off her victory that among the first ones to arrive, there were two of her sons. 2-1. she won.

Alicent rolled her eyes in the same elegant way she did most things. She was renowned for looking down upon others without them even realizing. Her message couldn't be clearer. Wait and see. The game wasn’t over yet.

Next to come were the twins, Baela and Rhaena, in their full glamor. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Aegon was the next, with blood-shot eyes and greasy hair, hangover as he always was. Aegon was typically the last to arrive, if he ever arrived at all, but today, by some miracle, he not only showed up on time, but also had a few minutes to spare. The miracle soon turned out to be his sister wife Helaena. The somewhat unworldly woman was instructing her children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, to push their dad to the dining room, while holding her new-born son Maelor in her arms.

“Morning, mother, sister.” Helaena greeted Alicent and Rhaenyra with a sincere smile, causing the two solemn faced matriarchs to smile with her. Helaena was among the few things that Alicent and Rhaenyra actually shared the same opinion. Both of them adorned her.

Now the score was still to Rhaenyra’s advantage, 4-3. If Alicent had to argue, she would say that her grandchildren also counted, the score was actually 4-6.

Daeron and Joffrey hadn't arrived yet. It was unusual. The couple was always the least of their mothers’ concerns. Joffrey was a wild soul, but he was not irresponsible and he valued family more than anything. That was why he married Daeron without struggle, and had never caused any trouble after the marriage. Daeron, on the other hand, was a tricky character. He appeared to be the gentlest and most reasonable among his siblings, never got drunk and passed out on the pavement like Aegon, never chased his nephew down in a car race in the middle of the day and like Aemond, and he wasn’t as unworldly and aloof as Helaena. He was charming, polite, chivalrous and above all, a damn good actor. It was no secret in the family that he and Joffrey’s marriage was nothing more than a political union. Daeron played his part as a caring husband, but when the cameras turned away, he was the coldest and most indifferent person in the world.

“Did your little brother finally stab my little brother in his sleep?” Aegon elbowed Jacaerys, who was fiddling with his phone.

“What do you mean?” Jacaerys said half-mindedly, “They don’t even share the same room. Their rooms are at the opposite wing of the house. There is no chance Joff can sneak into Daeron’s room and stab him without waking up everyone.”

“Well, fine. Whatever you say, Sherlock.” Aegon made a face. Jacaerys was all about logical thinking, while Aegon was allergic to logic.

“Maybe stabbing will do them good.” Lucerys said thoughtfully, twirling a strand of curls with his finger, “It certainly did me good.”

Helaena instinctively covered Jaehaera’s ears and urged her husband to do the same with Jaehaerys. Thankfully little Maelor was asleep, so it wouldn't hear anything inappropriate.

“Shut up, Luke.” Aegon groaned, “My children don’t need to hear your twisted bedroom preference.”

“What makes you think I plan to talk about my sex life?” Lucerys rolled his eyes, “I am a very private person, you know. I have no intention to share my wonderful bedroom experience with my dear husband.”

“No intention my ass.” Aegon retorted, “Everyone on this planet saw you blowing my brother on the balcony, LIVE.”

“It was a good show, wasn’t it?” Lucerys chuckled, not a single ounce of shame on his face.

“Lucerys.” Aemond spoke for the first time since he entered the dining room, “Enough.”

The seats of the long table were strictly arranged, with Rhaenyra’s children on the right and Alicent’s Hightower clan on the left. It had been the norm since they were still kids, and it had remained so even after the Targaryen/Velaryon marriage. Thus, Aemond was now sitting across Lucerys, his lone violet eye fixed on his mischievous husband. Aemond the one eye was a formidable figure in the business world, but he didn't really talk much in the family. Normally he would let Lucerys take charge of the bickering, since Lucerys was far better at making Aegon speechless than him, but he made sure to intervene whenever Lucerys had gone too far. Now was an example.

“Sorry, uncle.” Lucerys batted his eyelashes innocently at Aemond, “I will be a good boy from now on.”

Aemond’s expression softened, his tightly pressed lips relaxing just a little bit as he reached out to smooth Lucerys’s fluffy curls.

“Good. Cross the line again and you will be punished.” Aemond said in his usual soft but intimidating voice, his thumb brushing against Lucerys’s jaw.

Aegon groaned again and shut his eyes. Why had he done to deserve this? Why couldn't he just sleeping his hangover away on his luxury bed?

Joffrey showed up before Lucerys and Aemond could change the dining room into a porn set. The youngest Velaryon looked a bit worse for wear. He was wearing a pair of thick rimmed glasses, hiding his reddish eyes and the lower part of his face was covered by a mask. His hair was a mess, and he was in a set of ridiculous fluffy pajamas.

“Sorry I am late.” Joffrey said, his voice muffled by the mask.

“What takes you so long, little Joff? Have you picked up furry kink?” Aegon joked.

“Are you feeling better?” Rhaenyra asked after throwing Aegon a warning stare, “Sorry to wake you this early. I’ve told Doctor Gerardys to check on you later today.”

Joffrey had been struck down by the flu three days ago. He had spent the past three days on bed, but fortunately, today his fever finally broke. He still suffered from a pounding head and upset stomach, and he was shivering even with all the layers on, but he still nodded to his mother.

“I am better now, mother. Don’t worry.” Joffrey didn't take his usual seat, instead sitting down at the far end of the table to avoid spreading the virus.

“Where is your husband?” Alicent asked, even though she knew Joffrey couldn't answer her. One of her wonderful, or rather, annoying, traits was that she was able to ignore the blunt truth even if said truth was stuck right under her nose. For example, she knew too well that Daeron didn't give a damn about Joffrey, but she still pretended that nothing was wrong.

“No idea.” Joffrey replied, “Haven't seen him for a week.”

Rhaenyra scoffed. It was no secret that Daeron was seeing someone outside marriage, a young model from the Reach. He kept his mistress in a separate mansion, and he actually spent more time there than in the family estate. Rhaenyra hated her half-brother for neglecting her son, but Daeron was such a good actor in front of the cameras that any action she took would only end up in the biggest scandal ever. She could even imagine the headline, ‘IS THE PERFECT COUPLE A LIE? Targaryen’s biggest secret uncovered’.

Speak of the devil. Daeron walked into the room in his usual casual but classic clothes, crisp shirt, tweed vest and trousers, paired with leather oxfords. He looked well-groomed as he always was, clean shaven with slightly gelled hair, a sharp contrast to his flu-struck husband.

“God, did something bad happen? Are we going bankrupt?” Daeron murmured after browsing the room, “Why is Aegon already here?”

“Because I am actually a family man and I listen to my beautiful wife.” Aegon retorted immediately, “Unlike you, who chose to stay with his gold-digger mistress, little brother.”

Daeron shrugged, neither the word gold-digger nor mistress seemed to offend him. Joffrey always found it peculiar that how come his very existence was enough to offend his otherwise very well-tempered husband?

“Since everyone is gathered, let’s go down to business.” Rhaenyra cleared her throat and addressed the crowd, “Before you ask, Baela dear, Daemon is with the little ones, so he cannot attend today’s meeting. He fully agrees to my plan, by the way, which I will explain to you in a moment.”

“We are doing a reality show.” Alicent spoke, “All of us.”

Everyone seemed to be confused by the idea. Aegon was half-way yawning, his mouth opening to an ‘o’ like an idiot; Aemond quirked an eyebrow, the one on his blind side, which meant he was properly surprised; Helaena seemed to be the least affected, rocking Maelor in her arms as she hummed softly to the baby. On Rhaenyra’s side, Jace looked up from his phone for the first time today, having a silent conversation with Baela using eye-contact; Lucerys actually stopped stroking Aemond’s hand for a moment, but recovered soon enough; Rhaena looked genuinely pleased, for a reality show would definitely help her influencer career. As for the remaining two, Daeron and Joffrey, despite their strained marriage, their reaction was exactly the same. Reluctant, to put it lightly.

“Reality show? Who the fuck wants to watch us lying around and do nothing?” Aegon was the first to question, “It is the most narcissistic thing I have ever heard!”

“Actually, everyone wants to know about our lives.” Lucerys replied, “We are like the royal family of Westeros. No offense, Baela.”

Baela waved her hand dismissingly. She was a political activist, a firm believer of democracy and equal rights, so it was natural that she condemned the idea of royalty with passion.

“None taken, Luke.” She said before turning to Aegon, “Actually, cousin, I think you are the only one here who doesn't have a proper job. No one is going to lie around and do nothing except you.”

“Hel doesn’t have a job either!”

“I run a charity fund and also work part-time as an interior designer, husband.” Helaena chimed in.

“Since when?!” Aegon shrieked like a little girl, “You betrayed me, Hel!”

Helaena only shrugged, breaking a cookie into half and handed them to her twins respectively.

“There will be cameras 24/7.” Rhaenyra raised her voice, “I need all of you on your best behavior. We need to show the world that we are a functional family. No fighting, no scandal, no bullshit, understand?”

“We are anything but functional.” Aegon murmured, “They call us the incest clan.”

“The shooting will start one week from now, but the tech team will arrive tomorrow to set up the cameras.” Alicent said, ignoring Aegon as she always did, “You have one day to hide anything you don’t want the whole realm to know.”

Everyone turned their eyes to Lucerys and Aemond, but the couple seemed to be unaffected by the gaze. Lucerys helped himself to a chocolate cookie, while Aemond took a sip of his tea. For some reason, they all thought Lucerys and Aemond’s room would be some sort of sex dungeon, even though no one had actually seen it.

“You need to stay in the house for the duration of the show, my dear.” Alicent turned to Daeron, who was sitting next to her, “Take care of your lady friend.”

Lady friend was certainly a nice way to put it. Everyone knew Alicent was referring to Daeron’s mistress.

“Don’t worry, mother.” Daeron smiled to his mother warmly, “I will take care of everything before tomorrow.”

If Joffrey didn’t know his uncle better, he would say that Daeron was sincere. However, he was not that innocent boy who had fallen in love with his gentle and polite uncle anymore. He could see from the slight downturn of Daeron’s lips that the blonde was holding back his fury. Of course Daeron would be furious. He had made it clear that he couldn’t stand Joffrey at all.

“It’s tiring enough to pretend we are in a loving relationship for the media.” Daeron claimed one time after they had come back from a charity red carpet event, “I don’t want to put up with you in private too. I need room to breathe.”

Joffrey’s reaction to Daeron’s words was to leave the room as calmly as he could, but in fact, he was so embarrassed and hurt that he felt like crying. He hated himself for even hoping that Daeron might see him differently one day. He had abandoned hope that Daeron would ever love him back, but at least they didn’t have to be enemies. He hoped Daeron wouldn’t avoid him like a disease one day, but it seemed he was too naïve to hope so.

“This is all. You can stay for breakfast, but I would advice you to go through your things and make sure nothing inappropriate is lying around before the camera team arrives. This show is our biggest PR so far. No one screws up.” Rhaenyra made the final speech before sitting back and gulping down a full cup of tea.

Joffrey stood up first, murmuring an apology as he left the room. He had no inappropriate things to hide, but he couldn’t stand Daeron’s disgusted stare anymore. He rushed back to his room, shut the door, ripped off his mask and took a deep inhale. The room was spacious and decorated in the coziest way. Helaena helped designed it for him, but unfortunately, the king-sized bed only had one occupant so far. He was supposed to share this room with Daeron, but Daeron had spent only one night here. The next day of their wedding night, Daeron went back to his old room and made no intention to come back.

“Open the door.” There was an impatient knock, followed by Daeron’s even more impatient voice, “I don’t have time to play games with you.”

Joffrey only had time to put his mask back on before the door was pushed open by an annoyed Daeron. Daeron frowned as soon as he stepped into the overly heated room. The flu made Joffrey so cold that he had to switch the heater to max and put three layers on himself to stop shivering.

“Why is here so stifled?” Daeron complained and unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt.

Joffrey thought the reason was obvious, but he still answered his husband’s question.

“I am cold.” Joffrey said, “It’s the flu.”

“God. Now not only do I have to share a room with you, I also have to expose myself to flu virus.” Daeron crossed his arms, making no attempt at hiding his displeasure.

“You don’t have to share the room with me if it annoys you so much.” Joffrey said in a flat voice. He had learned to be unaffected by Daeron’s obvious loathing. He had no idea what he had done that made Daeron hate him so much. He was raised to be Daeron’s bride, a union made upon Joffrey’s birth. The Targaryens had been going through a hard time back then, so Rhaenyra and Alicent had to join force to fend off the snakes that wanted to devour the Targaryen fortune. As a show of good faith, they betrothed their youngest children at the time, Daeron and Joffrey. For Joffrey, his fate was set at birth, but for Daeron, who was three years older, he had lived the first three years of his life as a free man until he was forced to accept his fate. Joffrey doubted Daeron remembered those years, but Daeron always used it as an excuse to mourn his freedom.

“Haven’t you heard what my mother and my half sister said? The reality show will follow our lives 24/7. I have no doubt that they will sneak a camera or two in our bedrooms. What will the public think if they find out we sleep in separate rooms? Our public image will be ruined.” Daeron ruffled his curls frustratedly, “I can’t afford to be seen as a hypocrite. My career will be screwed.”

But you are, Joffrey thought. Daeron was the most hypocritical person Joffrey had ever known. He was all caring and in love with Joffrey in public, always keeping his arm around Joffrey’s waist, sneaking a quick kiss from time to time, and making sure to go to Joffrey’s important games. However, in private, he made it clear that he could not stand the sight of Joffrey. He was so reluctant to even speak to Joffrey that he mostly communicated with Joffrey via e-mails. How could someone be so fake? How could Daeron whisper loving words to his ear in one second, and look at him with disgust in the next?

“We will be at the bottom of the attention list.” Joffrey said, “People are more interested in Lucerys and Aemond’s sex life or even Aegon’s drunken nonsense than us. You can say we sleep in different rooms because I don’t want to spread my flu to you.”

Daeron considered the idea for a moment. It was a good excuse, actually. Once Joffrey recovered, he could find other excuses like going on a business trip or something like that. Hopefully by that time, the public would be too shocked by their siblings’ drama to notice them.

“Fine. I will have some of my things delivered to your room to keep up the façade.” Daeron said, his mood visibly lightening a bit from not having to share the same space with Joffrey.

“What are you going to do with your lady friend?” Joffrey couldn’t help but ask. He was always curious about Daeron’s mistresses. Yes, Daeron had more than one mistress during their marriage. What did they have but Joffrey didn’t that made Daeron rather stay with them?

“None of your business.” Daeron replied coldly, “I will take care of my business, and you mind your own. Do not think I didn’t notice that you are getting along with my ex-military uncle quite well.”

For a second, Joffrey was lost. What did Daeron mean? Uncle who?

“Are you accusing me of having an affair?” Joffrey asked disbelievingly, “How dare you? I’ve never done anything unfaithful-”

Joffrey couldn’t continue, for a sudden coughing fit made it impossible for him to speak.

“No? I have sources telling me that you have been spending a lot of time in the gym, even when it’s off season. I never know another football player who is as dedicated as you.” Daeron scoffed, “Who knows what you are doing in the gym where my uncle happens to work at?”

“I broke my ankle in the final, for fuck’s sake!” Joffrey was so angry that he felt dizzy, his vision blurring and his ears ringing as if someone was playing trumpet in his head, “I am doing my reheb! Just because you are a cheater, doesn’t mean I am too! And leave Gwayne out of this.”

“Well, whatever you say.” Daeron shrugged, “But let me make one thing clear. I am not a cheater. We are never together, nephew.”

Joffrey had to hold on to the bedpost to prevent himself from stumbling. He felt like a fool. Daeron was right. They were married, sure, but they were never a couple. Daeron never touched him except for the fake kisses and caresses for the cameras. Joffrey had no right to accuse Daeron of anything. Why he kept forgetting how much his husband hated him? Joffrey wished he had never fallen in love with the cruel man in front of him.

“I’ll admit, my uncle is good-looking. And properly blonde. You like blondes, no?” Daeron flipped his silver curls as if laughing at Joffrey’s despair, “I won’t blame you if you decide to screw him once in a while. I can even give you some tips about how to keep an affair hidden.”

“Get out.” Joffrey squeezed the words from his teeth, “Get out of my room. I don’t want to see your face.”

“That makes two of us.” Daeron turned to leave as if he had been waiting for Joffrey to kick him out ever since he entered the room, “Take some pills for the flu, all right? I don’t want you to cough to death.”

Joffrey didn’t know Daeron’s last sentence was more of a mockery or worry. He didn’t care, though. He cursed himself for showing his weakness to Daeron. No more. He would not lower himself to that. If Daeron decided to be cruel, the least Joffrey could do was not to care.

The show was a success, much to Rhaenyra’s relief. The polls just skyrocketed. More than 30% of the entire Westeros population watched the premier of the show, and the numbers were looking strong five episodes in. People were excited to see the inside the famous Targaryen estate, the Red Keep. How big and luxurious it was. Its current occupants, the Targaryen/Velaryon/Hightower gang was even more interesting than the mansion itself.

Aegon was, surprisingly, named the most loved Targs on the show so far. Jacaerys replied the Instagram post with a short Congratulations and a clown emoji. Baela was the darling in the lesbian community, even though she never publicly confirmed her sex orientation. Rhaena’s social media account gained another 500K subscribers since the show had aired, and counting. Aemond didn’t get much screen time, for he was a busy businessman, but Lucerys made it up by sharing his erotic, intense, heartbroken, and overly romantic tale of how he and Aemond turned from nemesis to soulmates. Even Aegon the younger and Viserys gained their own fan base by making cute faces at the camera. Just as Joffrey predicted, the camera seemed to ignore them for the most part, which was really a huge relief for both. There was one scene in episode two that captured Joffrey and Daeron emerge from two different rooms, but Joffrey’s excuse was enough to satisfy people’s curiosities. Daeron giving him a gentle morning kiss and making him tea helped, too.

Joffrey had succeeded at avoiding the camera’s attention so far, and perhaps that was why he became slack as the shooting went on.

“Thank you driving me home, Gwayne.” Joffrey smiled to the man on the driver’s seat.

“No problem. I need to pick up something from Alicent anyway.” Gwayne replied, taking a turn at the end of the road and entering the Red Keep estate.

Gwayne Hightower was Alicent’s brother, the only son of Sir Otto, the powermonger of Old Town. Instead of working for Hightower Inc., Gwayne chose to join the army after taking a gap year between high school and college. He finished his degree in the army, and had an honorable discharge last year. He now worked as a therapist specializing in sports injury and recovery. Joffrey got familiar with the man after his ankle surgery. For a world class football player like Joffrey, ankle injury was the trickiest one. If he didn’t recover properly, he risked losing his position in the league and the national team. Joffrey was still young, so he could not let that happen. Fortunately, Gwayne was very helpful in his recovery, and Joffrey had actually made huge progress so far.

Joffrey couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between Daeron and Gwayne. They were both blonde, Gwayne’s hair color a bit deeper than Daeron’s, and so did his eyes. Gwayne had grey blue eyes compared to Daeron’s light violet ones. They were both good-looking with board shoulders and toned arms, but behind the handsome faces, their character couldn’t be more different. Gwayne was gentle and patient, never forcing Joffrey to do anything even if Joffrey was having less productive day. He complimented Joffrey’s strong will and endurance, never implying anything about brunette being somehow inferior. Most importantly, Gwayne was sincere. Joffrey didn’t have to think about his every move in front of Gwayne. Unlike Daeron. Joffrey never knew which of his words might antagonize his Daeron.

“Are you feeling better now? Your voice still sounds funny.” Gwayne pulled the car over before turning to look at Joffrey, “I know some drink recipes to relieve sore throat, but I am sure your doctor has better approach than me.”

“Doctor Gerardys is great, but he only gives me pills.” Joffrey chuckled, “If you know some magic potion, please, I am all ears.”

“I can make them for you.” Gwayne suggested, his eyes gentle and his voice gentler, “Or I can send you the recipe and you can make it yourself. It’s mostly lemon and turmeric.”

“Why don’t you find me in the kitchen after finishing your business with Lady Alicent?” Joffrey suggested, and that was his first mistake. He had completely forgotten about the reality show. He only asked Gwayne to stay because it just felt so good having someone caring for him.

“Okay.” Gwayne nodded after a short pause, reaching out to tuck Joffrey’s scarf tighter, “Let’s go, then.”

Joffrey’s next mistake was letting Gwayne park near the front door. He should have been wiser and chosen to enter the keep from the one of the side entrances. There were cameras swarming the front entrance, and inevitably, Joffrey and Gwayne were captured entering the keep by the cameras. Joffrey’s third mistake was failing to expect the media’s craziness. That was why he was so shocked to find that he was condemned as a cheater by the public after the next episode aired.

Another blonde in the relationship? Is our perfect couple a lie?

It was a lie from the beginning, but Joffrey had never expected he would be the one to expose the truth.

[unicorncornflakes]

Everything Changes | Modern Au | Alpha!Dark! Aemond Targaryen x Omega!Niece!Reader | Sneak Peek

Prologue (One day, not now ;))

Paring: Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader

Summary: Aemond is a hunter and you are his prey.

Tags: Alternate Universe – Modern/ Setting / Eventual Smut / Alpha-Omega Relationship.

Warnings: This fic includes manipulation, violence, death, use of dr4gs and inc3st, at some points. Minors DNI

This is the result a really stressfulll week, a ton of red bull and monster cans and a little of Craziness :D Just a sneak peak, sorry :(

I will update Dark Desire tomorrow, so... while we are waiting, I leave this here :D

Author´s note: Pls, enjoy! Feedback, shares and comments are always welcome!

Word Count: +700

He feels like he shouldn't be there. He always feels that way. However, he returns to the same place. Every Friday afternoon. He never lose it. Before what happened, he hadn't felt anything for you. You were a girl when they caught him. When he came back, you were a woman.

He takes the credit card out of his wallet.

Lately, he finds no better use for it than that. He creates a line of white powder on the desk table and inhales it forcefully, no need to roll a bill like before, he simply covers one hole of  his nose and inhales it. When he raises his head, you have plunged back into the water. You are very pretty in a bikini. If he hadn't snort in that line, he'd get up and take it from you. He would make love to you in the pool. No, he would fuck you. Since he came back he hasn't made love again, if he ever did.

Luckily, he's too high. Thank the gods he won't get up and teach you anything. It would not be ethical or moral. He keeps looking at you. He likes when you get out of the pool and sunbathe. You are very pretty all wet and shiny from the sun that hits your skin. Would you call him "Daddy" while he pulls you? He likes the perspective, smiles at his thoughts running through his mind. He lights a cigarette and leans back in his chair. He wishes you would come over and kneel down to suck him off while he's like this. 'I like you, (Y/N)' he confesses to himself in his mind. He imagines you walking hand in hand. He imagines sleeping with you. He just imagines you. He puts his fingers to his nose and pinches his bridge. Why does he imagine such sweet things with you?

"I thought you were clean of that shit," he hears Daeron's voice behind him, but he doesn't even turn to look at him. He's not in the mood to be lectured on morals by his little brother.

“I'm leaving it, before I snort much more. Now it's only Fridays, when I'm here” he lies to Daeron with his hoarse voice, shattered by years of captivity, after the conviction for murdering Luke. He shrugs and continues to look at you. You are precious. His little niece.

“When are you coming to see her?” Daeron asks, dropping a folder full of papers on the desk. He clicks his tongue in disapproval, but he hasn't given a shit about these things for a long time “You should keep your distance, because in the end you're going to do something you'll regret.”

“Like what?” Aemond tells him smiling sadly, turning to look at him. Daeron looks at him worriedly, Aemond knows that looking at the enormous scar that runs across his face is not easy, that it is unpleasant, the white and blue prosthesis greets him in a macabre way... but you look at him as if he were still attractive, as if you like him, as nothing would happen to his face or to his destroyed body “With the eager that Cregan is, I'm sure he'll even put her in my bed and give her to me if I tell him I like her. He would be honored if his daughter gave birth to the future offspring of the House of the Dragon. Yeah, he wouldn't give a shit, even if I'm his wife's little brother.”

“She's very pretty” his brother Daeron comments as he approaches the window, with his arms behind his back “But, (Y/N) doesn't deserve to be with a man who lines up on his back while he fucks her from behind” he says harshly, without any feeling. Aemond smiles wearily, jaded by the situation. He knows perfectly well what happens between almost all of his siblings when you are around them.

“No, of course” he tells Daeron, taking a drag on his cigarette again, watching you through the smoke that he expels from his mouth “She deserves a proper lawyer. I suppose you would take her to dinner before fucking her, to see if she would fall in love with you that way” Aemond laughs contemptuously.

“Unlike my brothers, I know how to control myself, even though she is the first omega born in our family after so long” Daeron smiles, but without losing sight of you. Liar. All his brothers are liars with you.

[peachysunrize]

I had tried to take the leaks with a grain of salt, but now I can say that this really really sucks. I'm reading comments calling Aemond disgusting and cheering on Alicent and Helena for "putting him in his place". They gave Daemon a redemption arc just because they want the general audience to root for him at the Gods Eye. Well, jokes on them, I’ll stan Aemond even more. They glossed over b&c as much as possible and no one gives a shit about baby Jaehaerys. Alicent's character is destroyed beyond repair. Team Green is destroyed. The writers are so biased in favor of TB and girboss Rhae Rhae that season 3 is going to be unwatchable. I had such high hopes and now I'm just tired. The actors were great, it's not their fault. Ewan had the bare minimum of screen time and managed to make me empathize with his character, often without even having a line. But if the script is shit the actors can't do anything about it and you can't expect much from writers who write lines like the one about Aegon's cock and the goatfuckers slur. Ultimately, the thing I liked the most about this season, aside from a bunch of scenes, was the press tour, especially all the Tom and Ewan’s interviews. And the fanfics of course. 💚

Since you mentioned everything, I’ll go ahead and give my two cents on the episode (if you want later the whole season in another one) in this post

There are many things that bugged me this episode.

First things first I’m gonna start with Aegon cause I’ve seen so little of him on my dash today.

Aegon is an underdog. He didn’t want to become king, yet here he is! The cost of it was nearly his life by the hands of his brother. He has to feel betrayed and tossed aside, which he is in fact, but what did we get from him? His dick is like a sausage on a spot. Right. Because there aren’t ANY other factors to talk about, the writers decided to give us yet anotherrrrr disgusting hypersexualizing moment that Aegon talks about his DICK while Larys is saying important things.

About Helaena

I get that they’ve made her into this autistic sweet girl and I’ll stand by her side, but… doesn’t she have a motherly instinct AT ALL? I mean yeah Alicent is the only mother she has seen in her life, but like your son was beheaded in front of you, why don’t you want to idk even SCREAM? The cause your brother is fighting for, THE CAUSE YOUR SON WAS BEHEADED FOR, needs your help…

Aemond

I’ve talked about his scene with Helaena on the balcony, but I’ll say it again; Aemond showing weakness means he is DEEPLY disturbed and troubled. He is desperate to grasp at any chance he can to bring someone on his side because he has no one, absolutely no fucking person, and he has to fight for his and his family’s life ALONE! The same family who ran away and left the war THEY caused for him to deal with. I would have been so angry Dragonstone would melt without me even setting it on fire. HE. IS. ALONE. Even if he didn’t burn Aegon do you think he would have taken Aemond’s side??? He would keep humiliating him, but they are siblings, AND NOW HIS MOTHER AND SIBLINGS HAVE LEFT HIM TO DEAL WITH THIS MESS ALL BY HIMSELF!! The only person he’ll have is Daeron but they probably wouldn’t meet.

Alicent

I don’t even know where to start lmao… The fact that in season one she was ready to MURDER Rhaenyra for Aemond, but now she hates him so much she has to flee from him to RHAENYRA and spoil his plans and OPENING THE GATES FOR HER— not to mention how she fucking nodded at “a son for a son” as if Jaehaerys’ death is totally forgotten (probably has). SHE GAVE RHAENYRA — THE FRIEND WHO ONCE HELD LOVE FOR ME (the fact that she doesn’t even know if she still has affection for her is soooo funny like girl stop wilding and sit and think) — HER ELDEST CHILD!!!!!!!!!! THE CHILD SHE HAD TO GIVE BIRTH TO AT 15!!!! THE SAME CHILD SHE WAS RAPED FOR AND ANOTHER WOMAN WAS CUT OPEN FOR— I CANT begin how furious she made me. Nothing can make me like her again, not when she chose Rhaenyra whose friendship with ended the moment Luke took Aemond’s eye over her children.

[melrosing]

Daeron Targaryen is the fourth and youngest child of Alicent and Viserys and in the books he looks just like a typical Targaryen. He's not suppose to be Criston's son. And honestly it wouldn't make any sense since she didn't start sleeping with him until after Viserys died. Apparently in the show he's going to take after the Hightower looks (similar to Jon Snow only taking after his mother's side) which is an interesting choice. But at least they kept his kindness. He's kind and sweet in the books too.

oh I know, in the books he’s obviously Viserys’s son and it doesn’t go any deeper than that, but I think there’s scope to believe in the show that Alicent’s affair with Criston could have been going on longer than this (or that maybe just once they hooked up during Viserys’ lifetime and then when that resulted in a pregnancy Alicent felt too guilty to go near him again till Viserys had passed). I think it would be interesting if Alicent were a hypocrite in this sense and she were clutching at straws like well at least I kept my bastard son out of the way and he’s way out the line of succession etc etc but in reality she’s the same as Rhaenyra, she had a child by a partner she chose and shouldn’t be condemned for it. and also I think it would be interesting if Daeron, this one child she’s had to basically sever ties with and feels such guilt for having ever conceived, is the one who she might have been able to connect with. and her elder children effectively end up punished for the fact that Alicent can’t have that connection w Daeron so she subconsciously refuses the connection w them

[jaegonsmoon]

Daeron coming back from the Reach and him and Jace surprisingly getting along, as Viserys always wanted. Just for Aegon to become all jealous and possessive

I always forget poor Daeron exists.

I love me some jealous Aegon, it has such a good flavour.

Jacaerys is a pretty boy, he’s handsome and cocky in a way that doesn’t make wanna you punch him, but fuck him—because he knows what he does, and he knows he’s good looking and he embraces and takes advantage of that. And Aegon’s jaw aches with all the clenching he does on a daily basis. For all that Aegon is a brazen individual, always going for what he wants, Jacaerys makes him pause, hesitate; he makes him, lord have mercy, nervous. Every time he approaches him in a flirty manner, Jacaerys either matches his energy too well or rolls his eyes at him. The boy is infuriating, and confusing at times.

So when little Daeron, who hasn’t even been here most of their lives, comes to visit and clicks right away with the nephew he’s been trying to make a move on for months, Aegon is losing.it.

Aemond is sick and tired of Aegon bursting into his rooms rambling about his nephew, he threatens to tie them both up by their feet on Vhagar’s tail if he doesn’t shut up. Aegon swears revenge for later when Aemond finds someone he likes (coughs). The day will come, that’s for sure. So, sweet Helaena is now stuck with listening to him, she’s better help, though. Sometimes she says cryptic shit, but others she just sighs and tells him, “Maybe if you’d let him know…” to which Aegon laughs hysterically and shakes his head and leaves.

One day, Daeron and Jace are sparring in the training yard and they get a little too close for Aegon’s liking, Jace is grinning at Daeron who lends him a hand to help him up and then—Jace gives him one of those cheeky grins he sometimes gives Aegon and says “Well done, uncle” and that does it, his blood boils because how dare his other brothers exist and be Jace’s uncles as well, that’s his job, that’s his line. He stands up from where he’s sitting with Aemond and Luke, the two looking at him with raised eyebrows before sharing a look between them (that’s new).

“My turn, little brother.” He says. He ends up beating poor Daeron’s ass a little too harshly. But he doesn’t miss the look Jace gives him before he lets go of his younger brother and licks at his newly split lip. There’s something he recognises there, something… hot. However, he’s still too angry and his pile of bottled up feelings is starting to overflow.

He ends up glaring at the boy and everyone who there’s spare him a look, even when they’re only praising him, and takes off. He’s tired of this game. A game that for all he knows it might be one-sided. He needs a drink and perhaps—for the first time in many moons, ever since his big sister and his nephews returned to King’s Landing—some company. Anything that takes his mind off over the fact that he wishes it was his eldest nephew’s beautiful, toned legs he was burying himself between…

[thecountesstribe]

Episode 2x2 thoughts.

Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Helaena I'm so sorry you guys got stuck in a family like that. The unfortunate victims of the greens and blacks alike. You guys cannot and I mean cannot phantom just how much I hate Otto and Crybaby Cole. How is criston failing upward, it's not possible! I need him to suffer. Having the audacity to blame Arryk when he wasn't doing his job as lord commander of the kingsguard is audacious as fuck! I hate to give Otto a 10 but him clocking rapegon is so satisfying to me. Like your bum of a daddy didn't want your bum ass on the throne but now I gotta take my 10 back cause he was the dumbass that put the worst possible option on the throne. So what exactly was he mad about? I'm glad he got fired! Using his great grandson as a PR move was disgusting as hell, then again none of the greens actually like each other so I don't know wtf I was expecting. Helaena didn't wanna do it! Why do the good ones have to suffer Lord? Nobody even made a move to comfort her either. She's traumatized and being victimized and I hate that for her. Rhaenyra is on the opposite side and away from Helaena and she showed she has more care for her than anybody in that castle. So that Rhaenyra hates her siblings narrative, which wasn't true in the slightest, quash it immediately.

No comment on the daemyra fight scene besides Emma and Matt ate and I'm glad RhaeRhae was clocking his tea. Rhaenys staring down Daemon cause she immediately called bullshit was so CUNT of her. She knows his problematic ass. Period mothers. The Jace and Baela scene was so sweet and I too miss my beautiful, beautiful boy Luke. 😭😭😭 We got a Laenor and Harwin mention so another win for me! The way Baela immediately reassured Jace that his fathers loved him, like she can't understand a world where nobody loves Jace and his brothers is just so JJSUUAUHLAODVHEKKA. I'm glad they're each other's safe spaces. More of them please. I'm mad that HBO made us wait till season 2 to give them development and lines. I don't wanna see Alicent and crybaby hunchin on my tv screen. I throw in the towel, no more I beg. We got a Daeron mention.

Almond big headed ass deserves every ounce of suffering he's going through. I'm not feeling sorry for him at all and ofc he has mommy issues. Having Alicent for a parent would do that to you.

Could we initiate Arryk and Erryk into the tragic sibling trope category. I didn't expect to sob but wtf. Being born together and dying together. One can't live without the other. You see how Rhaenyra survived the attack because her guards were doing their job... crispy and the greens can't relate. Universe please take all of Helaena, Rhaenyra and all the innocent victims of the dance suffering, quadruple it and give it to rapegon, Alicent, crybaby Cole, Otto and every person who had a hand in the usurpation. Until next week gang.

As always my reactions to the episode.