#Female!aegon x aemond

[celtigxr]

𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊 is with your 𝖇𝖗𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 18+, MDNI PAIRING: Fem!Aegon x Aemond, established relationship, targcest

Story summary: In an alternative timeline, set during the events of 1.08 (Lord of the Tides). What would the story look like had Aegon been born a woman, and Aemond was Alicent's heir? Well, as it turns out, Aegon is very much the same lecherous fool, but the difference is that the consequences are far more devastating, and Aemond is determined to remind his sister of her place in his life. Word count: 13,963 (not sorry) Cross Posted on Ao3

Credits: Title inspired by: Cry Little Sister by Gerard McMann (Lost Boys Theme), cover art and fem!aegon edits made by me. Dividers not by me, I can't seem to find the original poster anymore. Story tags: Slow Burn (suffer for your smut), enemies to lovers, hate that I love you, established relationship, targcest (siblings, uncle/niece), angst, unrequited feelings, toxic relationships, yearning, jealousy, mxf, fxf, brother x sister, uncle x niece, master x servant.

Content warnings: 18+, MDNI, smut, gender bent canon character, brief canon violence, angst, misogyny, slut shaming, targcest (brother/sister, uncle/niece), Aemond frequently calls her his sister, infidelity (everyone?), breastfeeding, creepy uncle behaviour, mention of underage 'fooling around', mentions of sex work and brothels, pregnancy mention, unwanted pregnancy, allusions to abortion (via moon tea!), post partum depression, withholding child from parent, labour pains and blood, abusive parent, verbal abuse, physical abuse (a slap), dubcon (power imbalance, and alcohol), toxic relationships, alcoholism, typical canon tw's. There are no good people here.

MOOD SPOILERS BELOW

P+V, sexual tension, breeding kink, cream pie, lactation kink, ass worship, breast worship, targcest, fingering, pussy grabbing, hickeys, degradation, allusions to anal, rough sex, hair grabbing/pulling, bending her around like a pretzel, oral (f receiving), over stimulation, orgasm repression, bit of spanking, edging, man handling, rimming with finger, clothes ripping, mirror sex, various positions.

“Get up,” Alicent’s sharp voice cut through her eldest child’s peaceful slumber like an executioner’s axe. Though her daughter did not move, did not show a moment of acknowledgement of her presence. “Aenys!”

Again, no response. This, of course, successfully pushed Alicent to the point of frustration. The Queen ripped off the sheets that covered her daughter, displaying her nude form to the room. That was when Aenys finally stirred, her eyes covered by a curtain of dishevelled white-gold hair. 

Aenys sighed, grabbing her sheets back to cover her body, then promptly rolled over, “Mother.... What is it?” Her voice was hoarse with sleep as she turned to snuggle back into her pillow.

“‘What is it? What is it, what is it?’ Is that all you can say for yourself?” Alicent leaned over the bed like a vulture ready to pick at a corpse. 

“Has something happened?” Aenys’ voice was muffled by her pillow, though her tone still successfully conveyed her disinterest. Her eyes were closed as she tried to chase back the dream she was having; she was naked on Sunfyre, flying while someone was pressed against her back, their hand cupping her mound and rubbing her pearl deliciously.

Alicent looked upon her incredulously and with barely contained fury. How could Alicent produce such a creature? Her own daughter, her first born, with beautiful violet eyes, bright white-blonde hair and the sweetest face. She was everything Alicent was not, and the Queen had absolutely no idea where she went wrong with her. 

“Ser Willis Fell,” The knight’s name was stressed through Alicent’s teeth. 

“Hm?”

“Ser Willis Fell, one of your father’s sworn guards,” Alicent stared at Aenys in disbelief. The Princess remained buried in her pillows. “Oh, for gods’ sake. Aenys, the Kingsguard that you coerced into breaking his vows.”

Aenys groaned in frustration, arching her back as she stretched out across her bed like a cat, “Oh, it was just harmless fun. He didn’t need much coercing either, he was very willing.” Aenys rubbed the butts of her palms into her eyes as she rolled onto her back, her shoulder length hair fanned around her in messy tendrils. 

Alicent gaped down at Aenys’ audacity, “Think of the shame you brought me. Think of the shame you bring to your husband, Aenys. Do you not realize how dangerous it is for you to fraternize with other men? You not only cuckold your husband, but you risk getting pregnant with a bastard!”

Aenys scoffed as she cracked open her eyes to blurrily glare up at her mother, her frustration growing with every passing second that she wasn’t allowed to sleep. “I am not some unseasoned mare, mother, I know how to prevent such accidents,” Aenys swung her legs over the side of the bed, the sheets bunching up around her waist while her breasts hung broadly displayed, littered with love marks from last night’s tryst. “Besides, what me and Ser Willis did, there was definitely no way we could have conceive—” 

Alicent slapped her hard across the face. The clap echoed in the bedchamber, shocking them both into a silence that deafened them. Aenys’ face was sharply turned away from her, her cheek stinging with her mother’s love, her eyes bleeding fresh salty tears. Alicent breathed heavily through her nose, staring daggers into her daughter’s profile. Only a flicker of regret passed by her brown doe eyes before it was quickly replaced with contempt. She bent down so she was at Aenys’ eye level. 

“You are no daughter of mine.”

“I’m sorry, my Princess, but he refused to latch. He’s been crying all morning,” Joy was bouncing the screaming baby up and down in her arms, trying to calm him down. Her large breast was exposed, showing that she had just recently tried another attempt at getting the babe to latch onto her. 

Aenys rubbed her furrowed brow as she approached the two of them, and then mutely picked up her son from the wetnurse’s arms. “That’s because he is the blood of the dragon,” she holds her son to her bosom as she walks over to an armchair and sits down, “And therefore has a refiner pallet. Isn’t that right, Aerys? My boy is an Arbor Red man.” 

Aenys cooed at her youngest son while she unlaced her bodice with her free hand and pulled her arm out of her dress so she could release her breast with ease. It did not take much for the babe to latch on, successfully silencing him. Aenys hummed contently at the sight, her hands moving along the crown of his silver-haired head, and then relaxed into her seat. 

Joy seemed utterly relieved as she tucked herself back into her dress. Her fingers went to massage her temples where her headache had taken root due to the hours of Aerys’ unrelenting screaming. “He misses you, my Princess,” the wetnurse said with a tender voice. “They both do.” 

Aenys swallowed thickly as she stared down at Aerys, her second child, the spare to her husband’s heir. He had only been born two months ago, yet it felt like years. Much like when she had given birth to her first, when the sex was identified as a boy, her son was swiftly taken away from her and into the breast of the wetnurse, Joy. When her first was born, Aenys had cried throughout the first night.On the second she marched through the corridors demanding to see her son; a trail of blood from her healing cervix following her angry strides. They only complied because she was making a scene, but she was never alone with him. Either her grandsire, mother, wetnurse or his father was present.

She wasn’t stupid. Nor was she deaf. Aenys could hear their whispers when they think she isn’t listening, or too drunk to pay attention. They do not see her as a fit mother, they think she’ll accidentally kill her children in some drunken escapade, or just from negligence or ignorance. When her eldest got older, when he started talking, she saw less and less of him. His father didn’t want Aenys to influence him. He needed his heir to be perfect; groomed to be the epitome of Targaryen excellence, something that Aenys was very much not.

As Joy went about the room to clean up, to change the sheets in Aerys’ crib, Aenys spent the entire time in silence. She just watched her son latching on her nipple, the sounds of his sighs and suckles sending a wave of calm throughout her body that felt inherently natural. His large purple eyes were starting to flutter close, exhausted after hours of being denied his right to his mother’s breast. Aenys’ finger grazed the apple of her son’s cheek, feeling the dampness of the tears he had shed. She couldn’t help but feel the sting of resentment towards her family; it was their fault that her babe was famished to the point of screaming. If they had simply let her be with him, to let him nurse off of her in the first place, it never would have happened.

The sound of the door handle turning snatched her attention. There was no knock, no announcement from a Kingsguard, it was just him walking in as if he were already king. 

Aemond’s eye landed on her instantly– Well, more specifically on her tit in their son’s mouth. Her milky white mound was decorated with fading bruises of love marks from her previous lover, evidence of her infidelity that he was well aware of anyway. The fact that she was having their son nurse from the same breast that another man was nursing from surely twenty-four hours ago made his gut churn with disgust. 

And yet… The sight of her nursing made his black heart thump uncomfortably. 

He sharply turned away from the sight, displaying the profile of his taut jaw where she could see the muscle of his cheek twitch from the strain.

“Where is Aegon?” He questioned sharply, his hand still on the door handle, conveying that he had no intention of lingering.

“I thought he was with you?” She raised an eyebrow at him, her hands holding onto Aerys a little more tightly as if he was going to snatch him away from her. 

“He is with Maester Orwyle, my Prince,” Joy is quick to answer before the two parents could fret over the whereabouts of their child. “He is learning his numbers today.”

 Aemond hums and is about to leave, but Aenys is quick to ask him what he needed him for. 

“It is time for him to learn how to use a sword,” Aemond’s answer doesn’t surprise Aenys in the least bit, but it does make her give him a look of incredulity. 

“Use a swor–? Aemond, he just turned six,” She shook her head at him.

“And? Six is a fine age to begin sparring,” he turned back to her, his eye trained to her face deliberately. “The earlier he begins, the more skilled of a warrior he will become when he is older.” 

Aenys rolled her eyes with a scoff, “Aemond, he is too small to lift up a training sword–.”

“How would you know what my son is capable of?” His words cut her deeply. It was a well placed shot straight to her chest that snapped her lips shut, but only for a moment. 

The creases between her brows deepened, “I am his mother.” 

Aemond nearly laughed at that, “You were his mother for nine months. A wetnurse for two weeks, and then a stranger for the rest. Do not presume to know what is best for my heir, Aenys. Not when you do not even know what is best for yourself.” 

Her husband and brother left absolutely no room for her to respond. Aemond dismissed himself with a flourish of his pin straight hair and a bang of the door. 

Aenys pulled Aerys tighter against her bosom, her head bowed over the crest of his warm scalp, and her eyes tightly shut. Fresh tears fall on the babe’s face, but they do not belong to him. 

The arrival of Princess Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon and their brood came with much noise. It was no friendly family reunion, but a necessary arrival to preserve their bastard sons’ inheritance. Vaemond Velaryon would be arriving soon to petition the line of succession to the Heir of Driftmark in the anticipation of Lord Corlys’ possible death. With King Viserys still abed, mind addled with milk of the poppy, and decomposing with every passing day, the petition would be presided by the Lord Hand and the Queen Regent. 

Aenys couldn’t care about anything less. She knew the weight of the petition; if Lucerys loses his inheritance, it would be due to his legitimacy, which would in turn put Jacaerys’ legitimacy into question. Which is ultimately what Alicent and Otto want, but that would not change Viserys’ line of succession. The crown will go to Rhaenyra upon the King’s death, and when Rhaenyra is Queen she could just simply legitimize her sons, or make her eldest son with Daemon her heir. It changed nothing, no matter how much Alicent, Otto, and Aemond delusion themselves into thinking that this petition would. 

She was three cups of wine in when her uncle found her laying on a lounger beneath the domed roof of a stone gazebo, nestled in the heart of the royal gardens. Aenys was watching in mild amusement as a plain pigeon attempted to do his courtship dance to a much fancier female. Her feathers were mostly white, not quite a dove, given the grey feathers around her neck and the beautiful iridescent sheen they held. She was not at all impressed by the male.

“Well, if it isn’t little Aenys,” Daemon’s monotonous drawl was enough to pull her attention away from her pigeons. Her uncle’s tall willowy figure blocked the sun that was peaking through the shrubs and trees, making him look like a shadow. She could still see him tilt his head at her, “Bit early to be that well into your cups, don’t you think? Particularly for a princess.” 

The smirk on his lip conveyed he cared less than what his statement implied. 

“Are you going to tattle on me, uncle?” She slurped her wine noisily, which made his smirk widen. 

He didn’t answer her, instead he descended into an armchair situated at the feet of her lounger. His long legs sprawled out in front of him, his large hands resting on the arms, and his plum purple eyes roamed the length of her legs like a predator sizing up its potential prey. 

“You’ve grown up since I last saw you.” 

“That’s because I was three the last time you saw me.”

His smirk transformed into a wolfish grin. Daemon paused to look around at their setting, to the empty parepets that loomed overhead, to the loggia on the second floor that faced the garden’s direction, to the pigeon who was still trying fruitlessly with his courting dance. When he was satisfied with what he saw, or rather what he didn’t see, he leaned on his knees towards her. 

“Do you want to get out of here?” 

Aenys raised her eyebrows for a moment before narrowing her eyes at him. However, there was an expression of ease and intrigue upon her features, “Where do you want to go?”

“I was thinking somewhere less polished. Less green.” 

A knowing and curly smirk dimpled her cheek, “Ah, the Lord of Flea Bottom wishes to return to his people. Fee ling sentimental for your own stomping grounds, uncle?”

That lecherous smirk barely wavered; if anything it amplified when his tongue flicked out to run along his bottom lip, “From what I’ve heard you have inherited and elevated the title in my absence. The Queen of Whores. Quite a step up from a lord.” 

At the mention of the title Aenys’ smirk flattened a bit and her eyes drifted away, “Hm, or a step down, some might say. Alas, I have not done my queenly duties these past few years.”

“Because you are married?” He asked this as if it isn’t a sufficient enough excuse. “From the rumours I hear, niece, that still does not deter you. I’ve noticed that my brother has one less White Cloak guarding him.”

“He broke his vows.”

“So did you.”

Aenys tapped her wine glass as she assessed Daemon, wondering what he was trying to achieve with this conversation. Taking a thoughtful sip, she tilted her head at him. 

“Are you suffering from bed death already, uncle?” Her question managed to enlist a bodily reaction from him. Daemon leaned back in his chair, his smirk flattening for a moment before returning the moment she continued. “Got bored with one niece and now trying to pursue the other?”

He chuckled at that, his hand running over his chin before resting it on his palm, his elbow placed on his knee. “Am I wrong to assume that you suffer the same affliction with your beloved husband?”

It was now his turn to pull a bodily reaction from Aenys. Her lips fell into a pout, and she shifted uncomfortably in her lounger; her left leg moved up as she shifted her bottom on the seat so she was sitting straighter, but in doing so her gown lifted just enough to expose her pale ankle. Daemon’s dark gaze found it in an instant. 

“I doubt my nephew meets your needs sufficiently, sweet niece,” his voice is a pur that makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “I would have suspected a woman with your…appetites would have more children by now. But I’ve noticed the age gap between your sons. Is that by design, I wonder? A well placed lemon top, or a convenient cup of moon tea? I imagine you’ve learned all sorts of tricks from the brothels you frequented.”

Aenys had been pregnant in between her sons, yes, but the father was not Aemond, and was swiftly taken care of by moon tea and several excruciating hours of heavy bleeding and a pain that rivalled active labour. It took years after Aegon’s birth to even convince Aemond to try for a spare– and as soon as Aerys was conceived, her brother stopped acknowledging her.

When she didn’t answer, Daemon was undeterred as he continued, “Mayhaps we can help each other.” His hand reached out the short distance to her ankle, using one long finger to draw lines on her exposed joint before trailing up her calf, moving along the hem of her dress. “And…should there be any consequence from it… None would be the wiser.”

Aenys’ eyes observe his ministrations, not even denying to herself that it was causing her loins to stir with longing. Her sex hungered for attention, even if it was not that long ago that she had a courtier’s head nestled between her thighs. However, there was nothing like a good cock rutting in and out of her like she was a mare in heat. Even more so when it is so forbidden and taboo. Not that he being her uncle was– no, bizarrely in their world that was normal, if not expected. She was, afterall, married to her younger brother and sired two children with him. What made it taboo was that they were both married, and their spouses were silently competing for a seat on the throne.

But something whispered in the back of Aenys’ mind, which sounded a lot like a conscience. It was enough to make her feel a bit queasy at the prospect of stepping over the line between her and Daemon. Maybe it was because she was a mother now, maybe it was the berating she suffered from her mother last morning, maybe it was because she hadn’t enough wine to shut off that little voice in her head. Or maybe it was because she felt the looming presence of a foreboding character lurking in the shadows, his blazing eye burning a hole into the back of her head. 

Aenys was getting out of the bath when Aemond barged into her living quarters. The sound of the door shuddering at the force of his body caused her poor maidservant to startle, effectively dropping the towel she was trying to wrap around her mistress. 

“Seven Hells, Aemond,” Aenys quickly snatched up her towel and wrapped up her nudity before she could even clocked the look he was giving her. That one lingering look with his one haunted eye that drank up the sight of her rear like a famished beggar. But that look was quickly wiped away and replaced with his ever present facade of antipathy. “Knock, for Mother’s sake.”

“Why?” He bit the question as he strode further into the room. The maidservant immediately knew that she wasn’t wanted, and swiftly curtsied before sprinting out of the room and hastily closing the door behind her. “I am your lord and your husband, I am entitled to this room and everything in it, including you. Or have you forgotten that after all these years?”

The last time Aemond felt ‘entitled’ to her rooms was nearly a year ago when they conceived Aerys, and even then he approached her door like it was the gates to the hells. The hypocrisy of his statement made her blink rapidly around the room in disbelief.

Clutching the knot of the towel at her chest, she widened her stance in preparation for a verbal altercation. “No less than you have forgotten, husband. You haven’t darkened my doorstep for elven moons.”

He strode closer to her until all that remained between them was the cooling copper tub and the milky water that remained swirling around. It smelt like vanilla and lemon, with just a hint of mint leaves. An aroma that was very distinctively Aenys; one that he had come to loathe and crave like a bad habit that he was actively trying to detox from.

“And that gives you a right to do as you please? Your debauchery when we were younger was bad enough, Aenys, but now your lecherous behaviour has gotten out of hand.”

“Now? Now it’s gotten out of hand?” With one hand clutching the towel, the other waved around in exaggerated movements. “I was worse before we wed, Aemond. I have been trying to be good… But it’s never good enough, is it? Nothing I do is ever good enough.”

His hands braced the edge of the tub as he peered at her like she was speaking maddening nonsense, “This is you trying?”

“I have not set foot in Flea Bottom in years, have I not?”

“That changes absolutely nothing! You’ve just changed your hunting grounds, setting your sights on honourable guards, servants, and weak-willed courtiers like the succubus that you are.”

Aenys scoffed dismissively at this, “Oh, do not look down upon me as if you are any better, Aemond. At least I do not skulk in the dark when I commit my sins.”

“What in the Seven Hells are you talking about?”

“I am aware of your little visits to Madam Sylvi’s, Aemond,” Aenys crossed her arms over her chest, pressing the towel firmly against her aching breasts. “I would have found it sweet that you still lie with your first – might’ve even been flattered that it is the same whore that I bought for you as a name day present after all these years, but your shocking display of hypocrisy is offensive. I am not the only adulterer in this marriage, Aemond.”

Aemond stared at her with the full capacity of his fury. His shame for his indulgences in the arms of Madam Sylvi was enough of a burden for him to bear, but the fact that Aenys knew about it was something he could not accept. It would be one thing if it was his mother that had learned of it, but with Aenys, it was a different story. She led the entourage of his childhood tormentors, taking pleasure in emphasizing how little, dragonless and weak he was at the time. And now… Sylvi was his only weakness he allowed himself, and Aenys fucking knew about her. 

He rigidly straightened up and strode purposely around the tub, each step calculated and predatory. “I am your husband, Aenys, and therefore you are my property by law, not the other way around. What I do to seek out my pleasures is none of your fucking business.” He is towering over her now, crowding her space, making her step back until her thighs meet the edge of an accent table flushed against the wall. “But what you do, wife, is my business. You made vows to me, Aenys, in holy matrimony, to serve only me, your lord and husband!”

Having Aemond this close was making her knees weak, but Aenys wasn’t a simpering lap dog that rolled over in the presence of a larger one. 

“I did not ask for this, Aemond!” She shouted, her chin lifted in defiance. “I did not ask to be your wife! If there is anyone to blame for your predicament, it is mother, not me!”

“Believe me, sister,” He seethed through clenched teeth, his eye turned black by the vast void of his widened pupil. Aemond stretched his neck forward, leaning so was nose to nose with her. “I rue the day mother told me that you would be my wife. I would have never chosen such an unworthy woman for the title. It should have been Helaena. It should have always been Helaena.” 

Aenys’ nostrils flared at his words; each one was like a dagger sinking another inch deeper into her chest. The mention of Helaena sent a wave of insecurity through her gut, making her eyes sting and her nose to twitch. Helaena was the daughter that Alicent always wanted; delicate, kind, soft-hearted, beautiful in such an effortless way that she did not even need to wear extravagant gowns and bold jewelry for people to notice it. Alas the greatest sin Helaena had was being born second to Aenys. With her fragile mind, she was moved to Oldtown to live with Daeron, until a suitable betrothal is made for her. A decision that Alicent freely admits was a mistake, particularly to Aenys, when she reminds her eldest of how undeserving she was of the things freely given to her. Undeserving and unworthy. 

Unworthy. She was unworthy.

Unworthy of being a wife. 

Unworthy of being a mother. 

Unworthy of being a daughter. 

Unworthy of love. 

“If you hate me so much Aemond, then just leave me be,” Her lips twitched as she said this through clattering teeth and a taut jaw.

“I wish I could,” his voice came out a little softer than the tone he had used seconds before. But the softness quickly dissipated when he reached out and grabbed her face, his fingers sinking into her cheek possessively. “But your infidelity has shamed me enough, Aenys. The Realm already laughs in my fucking face over you cuckolding me at every turn. Thank the Seven that our sons look like me, because if there was even a whisper about their legitimacy, Aenys, my claim to the Throne would be just as weak as Rhaenyra’s. And it would be entirely your fault.”

Despite the grip he had on her face, she scoffed at him, a derisive little smirk split her cheek, “Do you still believe that you will be king, Aemond?” The question effectively made his eye flash fiercely. “Father had twenty-one years to name you heir, and he didn’t. He still steadfastly declares Rhaenyra his heir–” 

“Shut your whore mouth,” He pinched her face viciously, pulling it closer to him, making her body press against the lithe structure of his form. Aenys immediately reached up and clung to his elbows, but not entirely understanding if she did to push him off or pull him closer. 

“I am no whore, brother,” She twisted her face out of his grasp. “Whores get paid–”

Suddenly his other hand was on her again, but this time it was nestled between her thighs, cupping her mound harshly. Tendrils of electricity crawled along the surface of her skin, blooming from that centered point. The touch of his warm palm, pressing against her labia just above her pearl made her thighs quiver. The feel of the pad of his finger on her slit made her hips involuntarily buck into him. Her sex ached for his penetration, as evidenced by her slick essence dampening her curls. 

“No, you’re a curse. My curse,” his nostrils flared as his eye seared into her face, devouring every tremble of muscle he caused. He seeked to dig the knife deeper, to make her feel his hatred for her. To remind her of her place, to break her spirit. It was what she deserved for all that she did to him. He plunged and curled his fingers into her, causing her to gasp and arch her back into him. Aemond did not move his digit, just kept her there like a fish on a hook. 

“Aemond–” She put her hands on his shoulders, not pushing him away, but anchoring herself to him. In doing so, the towel around her body loosened, her breasts were painfully pressed against him, likely leaking with milk. She breathed hard, her heady desires rising rapidly at his rare touch. 

Even during the whopping two times they coupled, Aemond was not nearly this lascivious with her. At most, he had rubbed her clit and fingered her for a minute or two just so it made his descent inside her easier for both of them. He always took her from behind, always kept her face pressed against the mattress so he wouldn’t look at her. 

But he was looking at her now, with knuckles deep in her cunt, showing his claim to his property. The heat that bloomed in her chest and core blotted out her anger towards him, and Aenys eagerly showed him how much she wanted him by rolling her hips into his hand, encouraging him to pleasure her. “Aemond– please, I need–”

Aemond had nearly broken and bent like a weak-willed man. The crotch of his breeches were already tight, and now the laces strained against the thickening of his cock underneath. But something snapped awake in him, reminding him of who he was lusting for. Aenys, the bane of his existence, the great Whore of King’s Landing. He pulled away from her in an instant like she had just burned him with an iron poker. The hand that was buried inside stretched and curled at his side as if he had just touched something vile. 

The towel crumpled on the floor, her vanity exposed, making it look like the trembling body of a wounded doe, waiting to be killed. The hurt of rejection was clear upon her face, with wide eyes and quivering lips. 

He still had the knife, he still wanted to drive it home into her heart. Aemond wanted to hurt her as much as she hurt him over the span of their marriage, over the span of their childhood. 

“You are merely a duty, Aenys. One that was thrusted upon me against my will, and being the loyal son that I am, I accepted this fate without complaint,” He turned away from her, keeping her on his blind side as if the very image of her naked form repulsed him… Or weakened him. “That is all this marriage is. The gods were merciful enough to grant me two heirs from you, and I see that as a fulfillment of my duty. I need nothing more from you.” 

With that he strode around the tub, his steps quicker than his usual gait. His fingers still flexed at his side before he reached for the door to see himself out, but before he did, he paused. Aemond looked down, slowly reached for something in his pocket, then turned back to her. 

Aenys stood there, crestfallen, her head bowed, making her damp hair a curtain around her face like limp strands of white seaweed. She had her arms folded around her chest, her knees were slightly caved in the middle as she tried to hide her pelvic region. His jaw slacked at the sight of her, and a flicker of regret passed his features like dust in the wind. The hickies were still on her chest, splotches of yellowed skin with purple hues at the center, reminding him why she did not deserve his pity. 

“Here,” Aemond growled. With his thumb, he flicked something in her direction. It sang in the air before landing with a noisy clank, and then rolled on the hardwood floor before it clattered to a stop. When Aenys’ eyes flickered to it, her brow furrowed. It was a single copper star coin. 

“That’s all you’re worth.”

Then, he was gone with the slamming of the door. The singing of the coin still rang in her ears, along with the chanting of voices saying over, and over again: 

Unworthy. 

Unfit.

Unwanted.

Unloved.

Whore. Whore. Whore. Whore.

It happened so incredibly fast that Aenys was tugged violently back into sobriety. 

Two days passed since the argument with Aemond, and she had not seen him at all since. It was not like she was seeking him out, but his avoidance felt more like a conscious effort rather than a coincidence. Even when Aenys visited Aegon in the library while he was learning the geography of Westeros, Aemond was vacant for the entire lesson. Which was strange, since Aemond liked to be a part of Aegon’s lessons, often shadowing the Maester or replacing him altogether to ensure that his son was getting a proper education.

When Aenys did see Aemond, it was during Vaemond’s petition.

The petition started off dull and boring, at least to Aenys, even when she was already four cups of Arbour Gold in. She stood there with her hands laced in front of her, rocking on the balls of her feet, wishing she was in the Dragon Pit with Sunflyre, the only living soul that seemed to care about her. She wasn’t paying a lick of attention to what Vaemond was saying – he gave a long speech about Velaryon blood and yada yada yada. At one point Rhaenyra cut him off to defend her son’s blood status, which was quickly shut down by the Queen. 

It didn’t really get that interesting until the doors opened and the broken and hollow footsteps of King Viserys forced everyone into a stunned silence. Aenys and Aemond watched with baited breath as the ailing King hobbled over to the dais of the Iron Throne unaided. His crown fell from his head, which was quickly scooped by his rogue brother. Daemon helped his brother into his throne and then gently placed the gold crown back upon his head with such tenderness, it was easy for Aenys to forget her uncle's reputation. Easy to forget the proposition he offered her days ago.

It was easy to believe that deep down, he might have actually been a good man. And Aenys’ heart ached in envy over her half-sister’s luck to have such a husband at her side. Infidelity aside, Daemon had not once displayed disinterest to his wife since they arrived. They reared their children together, they walked together, shoulder to shoulder, they conversed normally without argument. It begged the question as to why he propositioned Aenys in the first place…

But when he turned away from Viserys to join his family, Daemon caught her eye. Then Aenys fundamentally realized something: She reminded him of not only himself, but of the girl Rhaenyra used to be.

Then something utterly bizarre happened in that same exact moment when Daemon strode past her. She felt Aemond shift closer to her side; the heat of his body near unbearable, given the cold shoulder he had been giving her their entire marriage. Then she felt his arm slither around her waist, his fingers digging into the meat of her hip. Aenys’ brow furrowed, then she slowly turned to Aemond with a budding snarl on her lip. However, Aemond wasn’t looking at her; he was too busy glaring at their uncle’s retreating back. 

After that moment, all hell broke loose; Rhaenys spoke for her husband and Viserys declared the matter being settled. Lucerys would keep his inheritance, even though anyone with eyes knew it was unjustly deserved. However Vaemond was not fixed to roll over that easily. 

The words “Bastard” and “Whore” echoed in the Throne Room, and Aenys felt herself flinch as if they were directed at her. Though it wasn’t, they were directed at her half-sister, Rhaenyra. Who arguably out of the two sisters was the least whore-ish of all, and yet the consequences of her affair with a single man were regarded far more viciously than the lecherous reputation Aenys harboured. 

But would that be her fate if she gave birth to bastards? If her current sons weren’t Aemond’s, or even just failed to look like him at all? Would she be standing there in Rhaenyra’s place, pleading for everyone to believe that her sons were legitimate? 

Vaemond’s head was chopped in half. His body slumped, the top half of his skull slipped off with a squelch of blood and flesh as his tongue flopped out of his bottom half. 

“He can keep his tongue.” 

In the chorus of screams and gasps, Aenys’ reaction was no different to any other gently bred lady of the court. Her hands went flying to the sides of her face and she rushed to turn away. In her horror she didn’t even completely register Aemond’s arms wrapping around her shoulders, pulling her into his chest to shield her from the gruesome display. 

“Are you alright?” Aemond’s question was almost as queer as the tone he chose to speak it in. 

“I’m fine,” her eyes narrowed at him, her goblet of wine was cradled to her chest as if he was about to snatch it away from her. “Why?” Her voice was gritty and filled with suspicion and seven cups of wine. 

“I went to your quarters earlier; your guard told me you were adamant on not being disturbed,” he said it so cooly, Aenys was almost convinced that he actually cared. Even though she knew better to assume otherwise, the fact he had gone to her quarters at all (and to concede in her need to not be disturbed) felt incredibly out of character to him. 

“That’s because my maid was busy distracting me with her tongue in my cunt,” she sipped her wine casually, ignoring the flash of annoyance in Aemond’s eye. 

“Aenys–”

She scoffed at him before he continued. Their argument the other day was still fresh on her mind; his words echoed in her nightmares and branded itself to her insides. “Do not start, Aemond,” she rolled her eyes and waved her cup-bearing hand at him dismissively. “It is about time that you come to peace with my nature, just like I have come to peace with the fact that my name sounds a lot like ‘anus’. So in peace, in fact, that anal has become a speciality of mine–”

Aenys could sense his rise in outrage, but they weren’t alone in the small hall, so there was no room to react. Their entire family gathered around the table in anticipation of the King’s arrival so they could be seated for their family dinner. The first of its kind in many, many years. 

Before Aemond could grip her arm and pull her into some dark alcove to berate her, the doors opened and four guards came in carrying their ailing father on a litter. Slowly and one by one, people took their spots at the table, not sitting until the King was situated at the center.

The small hall was painfully quiet, even when King Viserys spoke, declaring that it brought him joy to see all of them at the table as one. Alicent led the dinner with a prayer, and everyone in the table complied by clasping their hands, some bowing their heads, some closing their eyes. Aemond had done both, making Aenys roll her eyes instead of closing them. She didn’t even bother clasping her hands; there was no point. The gods hated her, she was a sinner most foul. There was little dignity in pretending otherwise. 

After that, Viserys explained how the night was one of celebration, and went on to congratulate the betrothal of Jacaerys and Lucerys to their cousins and step siblings, Baela and Rheana. 

As everyone raised their goblets for a toast, Aenys couldn’t help herself but lean into Jacaerys’ side, her features mockingly soft and considerate. 

“Well done, Jace, you can finally put those skills I taught you to good use,” Aenys managed to keep her face straight when Baela sent her a sharp look. Jacaerys didn’t bother acknowledging her with a glance, instead he drank a generous helping of his wine, puckering his lips as he staved off the urge to make a sharp remark. 

As Viserys congratulated Lucerys for his preservation of his title, (The Lord of the Tides! Here, here!) Aenys caught Aemond’s eye. He was heatedly staring at her over the rim of his goblet, his jaw taut with agitation. The knowledge that Aenys and Jacaerys had done little experiments with each other in their mid teens was an open secret, at least between the four of them. It was a fact that Aemond was openly not fond of, though Aenys didn’t entirely understand why. She and him weren’t betrothed at the time, and as far as she was aware, her brother resented both her and Jacaerys equally during that era in their life. What with them and Luke being the primary villains in his childhood. 

Aenys turned back to Jacaerys, leaning against his chair by draping her arm on the back of it, crowding his space. 

“You do remember how the act is done, right? At least in principle, seeing as we never got around to sticking your cock in–”

“Enough, cousin,” Baela whispered harshly from the other side of Jacaerys, who was already losing his temper. 

“You can play the harlot if you wish, aunt, but hold your tongue before my betrothed,” Jace whispered, his words were more of a hiss as he braced himself on the edge of the table. 

Aenys blinked at him and nodded, “Mhm. Whatever you say, my dear nephew.”

As she settled back into her chair, she felt fingers snake onto her knee and grip tightly. This brought her attention back to her husband, whose lips were pursed and his eye blazed with warning. Aenys merely smiled at him as if they were in wedded bliss, her hand reaching down to her knee to grab his, then pulling it up on the table, where she laced her fingers with his. The action earned her a little rumble from deep in his chest, and she half expected him to tear his hand out of her grip, but he didn’t. 

He just looked away from her, eye trained on something (or someone) at the other end of the table. There was a twitch in the muscle under his injured eye, and in that moment she felt his fingers tighten around her own. 

The sound of Viserys’ cane hitting the floor silenced the whispers around the table and garnered the attention of everyone in the room. The frail King rose from his seat, and everyone watched with bated breath and concern, as if he would topple over at his attempt. 

“It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table. The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past,” Viserys paused as he slowly reached for the bronzed mask that hid half his face. Unbuckling the fastens, he let it fall onto the table. His right side exposed, the empty socket, the decayed flesh that lay underneath.

 He was already half a corpse, half dead. It made Aenys’ breath hitch and her mind sober at the sight. She had never seen her father like this before; frail, weak, dying, his wounds displayed to them and yet stood above them all. Aenys only ever saw Viserys as a crippled man with no backbone, and eyes full of hate and disappointment when he looked in her direction. His most distasteful daughter.

“My own face… is no longer a handsome one… If it indeed ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just as the king, but your father, your brother, your husband, and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems... walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the house of the dragon remains divided. Set aside your grievances. If not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man... who loves you all... so dearly.”

There was a palpable taste of shame, guilt, remorse, and heartbreak in the room. One that Aenys had to chase down with a drink from her cup. Unbeknownst to her own mind, her fingers had curled slightly around Aemond’s hand, which still remained in hers. Her eyes were settled on the table, but Aemond’s focus was their intertwined fingers, a deep, pensive look in his eye.

Soon after the King was back in his seat did Rhaenyra stand up with her goblet, declaring she was raising it for the Queen. She spoke of her loyalty to her father, and her devotion and love. Sentiments that Aenys found illinformed, knowing what she knew about her mother, knowing that she was no different than her estranged eldest daughter. If only Rhaenyra knew about Ser Criston…

But then Alicent spoke in kind, looking directly at the Crown Princess with soft eyes; eyes that Aenys had never seen when her mother ever looked in her direction. 

“We are both mothers, and we love our children,” the statement stung like a band of hornets. Aenys pursed her lips and tore her attention off of the center of the table, feeling bile eat up her throat. She washed it down with more wine, making her cup empty. 

As everyone toasted and silently resumed to their plates and idle chatter, Aenys turned towards the pitcher that sat between Baela and Jacaerys. Her mouth was parched and that bile wouldn’t go away. She found herself standing and unlatching her hand from Aemond’s as she strode around Jacaerys’ chair, making her way towards the pitcher. She could feel Aemond’s eye on her every move. 

Clearing her throat, she gently squeezed between the two chairs so she could reach for the pitcher of wine. Once she got it in her grasp, she stood up and innocently began to pour it into her cup with her back facing the direction of their parents. 

“I, um,” she started, tongue moving along her teeth as she addressed Baela directly. “I regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer. But, if you two ever need a couple extra helping hands, all you have to do is ask–”

Jace’s fists slammed against the table as he stood, eyes piercing Aenys as she walked casually around him, innocent as ever as she returned to her seat. The Strong Prince’s heated onyx gaze watched her with pure hatred, his body vibrating with the need to yell, or worse. When all eyes were on him, looks of surprise or mute apprehension, Aemond slowly stood up, towering over him at his end of the table. Aenys simply looked around the table innocently, only briefly catching the knowing look from her grandsire. 

Her husband’s eye was trained on Jacaerys, his stoic demeanor emanating an underlying threat; daring Jace to say something or do something. To give Aemond a reason.

Instead, Jace sucked in his lips and quickly swiped up his goblet. With a slight turn of his shoulders, he faced Aenys, a painfully forced smile on his plush lips as he gave her a little pat on her head. 

With a deep inhale, he raised his cup, “To Prince Aemond and Princess Aenys… We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth.”

“Mmmhm,” Aenys hummed in her seat, her smirk tugging at the end of her lip. Aemond remained standing, but he took a split second to send her a withering look. 

“And as men and women, I hope we may yet be friends and allies,” he raised his cup in their direction. “To the health of your young family, my dear uncle, and my sweet aunt.” 

Jace sat back down, giving her a pat on the shoulder as he did. Not long after, Aemond finally settled back in his seat, looking a tad disappointed that he wasn’t given a reason to throw hands. As everyone raised their goblets to Jace’s toast, Aenys sighed and rolled her eyes. Her tongue was moving around in her mouth, the desperate need to say something in turn. It really didn’t take much time before she let the pettiness win, and soon it was now her time to rise from the table, full goblet in hand. 

“I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” she began, a disingenuous smile stretched across her face that was instantly read by her family. Aside from her father, who looked like he was having trouble keeping his head up at that point. “You will be married soon, and I feel it is my duty as a member of the league of blissfully wedded women to impart some of my sage wisdom…” She trailed off, actively ignoring the glare from her mother, brother, and grandsire. “The key to a good marriage is communication and patience. And when you’re angry with each… lemons, loads of lemons,” Aenys ended her toast with a cheeky grin before she felt her sleeve get yanked by Aemond, forcing her to sit back down. 

Daemon was the only person who chuckled at the table, catching her jest immediately. Everyone else either looked confused or conflicted on what to make of Aenys’ little toast.

 With the tensions still thick, Viserys requested music to fill the void. Aenys felt Jacaerys shift in his seat, pushing back his chair to stand up. With a pompous air of superiority, he offered his hand to his soon-to-be bride, who looked up at him with equal levels of fondness and delight. Before Jace and Baela left the table, Aenys caught her nephew’s smugness as he shared a look with Aemond. When the couple walked around the table towards the open space to dance, Aemond’s eye found Aenys’ in turn, a silent dual recognition of Jace's intentions. 

Despite her little toast, it was common knowledge that her marriage with Aemond was not the blissful one she had claimed. It was not a secret either that he rarely touches her, nor was it unknown that Aenys had a long string of lovers to compensate for the lack of physical affection. Jace asking Baela for a dance seemed innocent, but it very much wasn’t. What it was, was a statement: “We are better than you in every way.” 

Aenys crossed her legs under the table as she nursed her wine. She was practically slumped against the chair as she watched the couple with poorly concealed contempt and jealousy. As time went on in a haze of music, soft laughter and chatter, the tension eased from all seated except for the young married couple at the far right end of the table. Neither of them touched their food the entire time. 

From the corner of Aenys’ eye, she could see Daemon shift in his seat, as if he was going to get up. However, the anguished sigh of the King stopped him, as well as everyone else in the room. The tired and ailing King was carried out of the small hall on his litter, everyone stood and paused as they gave him their regard and respect. Not long after his departure, however, did the atmosphere shift. 

Servants came through the doors a minute after, holding a large platter that was the bed of a roasted, sizzling pig. The large plate was carefully slid in front of both Aemond and Aenys. The former had been impassively staring at Jace and Baela still dancing, but the moment he heard giggling from the other end of the table, his head slowly turned towards the smirking boy, the one who made him half blind. 

Aenys’ cup was halfway towards her lips when she noticed her husband’s look, and she immediately clocked the twitch in his cheek and the tightness of his jaw. She slowly placed her cup down back on the table, now that a real show was about to begin. 

When Aemond’s fist landed in the wooden table, Aenys felt a spike of adrenaline shoot down her spine, straight down to her cunt. 

 “Final tribute.” 

“Aemond, are you listening to me?!” Alicent shouted, her chest heaving as she stared at her son with wide disapproving eyes, marbled by the glossiness of her embarrassment over her son’s uncharacteristic and unprovoked confrontation at supper.

Aemond wasn’t listening to her, of course. It went in one ear and out the other. After Daemon had wedged himself between him and his nephews, with that smug-ass look on his face, Aemond strode out of the room and went straight to his quarters. His mind was reeling and his muscles were tense with adrenalin at what transpired that evening. Of course, he felt an immense amount of satisfaction for putting his nephews in their place, of reminding them who their competition was. But that wasn’t what plagued his mind, oh no. 

It was Aenys.

She had been a pain in his ass the entire eve, from the moment she walked in, already well into her cups. Despite the tense argument they had the other day, Aenys still had no qualms flaunting her sexual deviances around like a badge of honour, in front of him no less. However, her taunting Jacaerys the way she did, making him and Baela squirm with just her words stirred something in him that evening. Of course, he abhorred the knowledge that Jace and his wife fooled around as young teens (back when Aenys was closer to him than she ever was with Aemond), it was simply the act of her using that as a weapon that Aemond couldn’t help but respect. Begrudgingly.

But it wasn’t just that. When Aemond’s final tribute took a violent turn, Aenys wasted no time in joining him. When Jace approached Aemond and raised his fist, Luke had approached to do the same thing.

 It was very reminiscent of the night that Aemond lost his eye; they all gained up on him, and at the time he was alone. Aenys was somewhere with that male servant she had been flirting with at the funeral, likely getting her holes fingered. At the time, Aemond resented her for not being there with him. She was his older sister after all, and the closest blood he had aside from Helaena and Daeron who were both in Oldtown. Though he knew logically that Aenys couldn’t have possibly known that Aemond was even outside in the first place, claiming Vhagar. But still, it was the budding reason as to why he had pointed his finger at her when their father asked where he had heard the ‘lie’ about Rhaenyra’s children being bastards.

However at supper, when Luke strode to join Jacaerys’ assault, much like he had done that fateful night, Aenys was on him in an instant. With a strength he had absolutely no idea she possessed, she had grabbed onto Luke’s arm and pinned him on the table, hovering over him with a self-satisfied expression on her face. She enjoyed putting the Strong boys in their place as much as Aemond did, reminding them that they were the true Targaryens, the rightful heirs. 

When Rhaena went to grab Aenys, she had no choice but to pull herself away from Luke in order to fend her cousin off. In doing so Luke twirled off the table, and raised his hand to grab Aenys by the back of her haid. Aemond’s heart spiked. Though, just as he was about to bound over there in quick strides, Aenys twirled around and landed a swift punch of her own to Luke’s left eye. 

“Be lucky I wasn’t holding a dagger, you bastard,” Aenys spat in her nephew’s face and stepped over him, leaving him sprawled on the floor, clutching his bruised eye. 

Aemond was staring at his wife with a wide eye and a hardening cock/ But before he could even grab her, Daemon had stepped between them all as guards scrambled to pull Rhaenyra’s brood away. The sight of his uncle immediately infuriated him, particularly the smug way he was looking back. 

“Aemond,” Alicent’s word sliced through his reverie, and brought him back to the present. He turned to look at her, his face completely impassive. She was berating him for the past ten minutes or so, and he sat there in quiet, not bothering to respond. 

He wasn’t listening, he didn’t care. He would have done it again and again and again, if it meant he could watch Aenys punch Luke over and over again.

“I cannot believe you, of all people, Aemond, would have said such things in front of everyone. After we had just established peace!” 

“Peace?” Aemond repeats the word like it is the most vile thing he’s ever tasted. He stood up from his arm chair and sauntered over to his mother. “You lost the right to peace long ago when you told me that I was Rhaenyra’s challenge. When you and grandsire groomed me to be the future king, despite father’s steadfast decision of keeping Rhaenyra as his heir. You lost the right to peace when you married him in the first place, effectively creating a war when you gave him more children. And Rhaenyra lost the right to it when she opened her legs and sired bastards.” 

“Aemond–” Alicent took a step forward, her face slowly cracking as she pleaded with him, but he put his hand up to stop her. His face was twisted in disgust. 

“You said to her… That she would make a fine Queen. You said that to her, in front of me, mother,” Aemond pursed his lips and gritted his jaw as he turned away from Alicent. “After all you’ve told me… After years of preparing me for the throne, telling me how I would make my ancestors proud. Did you believe any of it, or were you just stroking your own ambition?”

Alicent gaped at him, her brown eyes wide and glossy. The truth of his words bit her like the chill of a winter breeze, causing her to freeze over in the consequences of her sins.

When Aemond saw that she was not going to answer, his nostrils flared and he sharply turned away from her. His long, heavy steps ate up the floor within seconds until he’s reaching for the door.

“Wher-where are you going?” She questioned, turning to him with a flash of fear crossing her features, as if she suspects him of doing something heinous. 

Aemond hesitated, his fingers flexing around the handle of the door, his shoulders taut and the muscles in his cheek twitching under the strength of his gritted jaw. 

“To my wife.”

When Aemond barged into Aenys’ quarters for the second time that week, she was sitting on a settee with her maidservant straddling her lap. Aenys was sucking on the girl’s perky nipple while her hand was buried under her skirts, knuckles deep in the servant’s cunt. 

When the maid turned to see who had entered, her eyes widened to saucers and she immediately pulled herself off of the Princess’s lap (much to Aenys’ chagrin), releasing her nipple from her mouth with an obscene popping sound. 

“What the hells, Aemond,” the Princess growled. 

Aemond ignored her statement. As the maid scrambled to fix her bodice, he jutted his thumb towards the exit, “Out.” With barely a nod and a curtsy, the maid scrambled out, still lacing up her bodice.

Aenys glared up at him as she slumped in her seat, her face was flushed (from drink or from the activities that were interrupted), and the laces of her bodice were loosened, threatening to release her breasts.

“Way to be a cock block, husband,” Aenys huffed when the door slammed shut. She stood up then, her hands thrown in the air in exasperation. “What do you even– Aemond!” 

He had grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease as he tossed her over his shoulder. Aemond took wide strides towards her bedchamber and once there, he tossed Aenys onto the bed, kicking the door behind him closed. 

Aenys stared up at him, wide eyed, gobsmacked, and utterly confused. Her plush, swollen lips were parted, her hair was in a disarray around her face as she sat propped on her elbows. 

“Wh-what are you–” Her eyes traveled to his hands, where he was unbuckling his belt and scabbard, his one lilac eye trained on her like she was a rabbit and he the fox. 

“Reminding you that you’re my wife,” He said the last word with a growl as he jerked off his belt in one swing. Aenys’ eyes flashed with excitement and alarm at his words, his hands, and the hungry look upon him. 

“I-I thought… I was merely a duty,” she swallowed thickly as she moved further into the cushions, crawling backwards on her elbows as he slowly approached the edge of the bed. Aemond put his knee into the mattress, his large hands bracing themselves on either side of her knees as he crawled over her body. “A duty you already fulfilled.” 

Aemond hummed, his expression nearly unreadable. His eye was dark with the blackness of his wide pupil as he carefully examined her body and her face. 

“I was mistaken,” he finally said, his voice low but dangerous. “My duty won’t be fulfilled until this castle is teaming with our progeny.” 

A shock of arousal goes down her spine, punctuated by how he grabs the laces of her bodice at the front and yanks so violently that the seams rip off her dress. She gasped, looking down in both horror and fascination as Aemond proceeded to rip her dress in half from the neckline down, leaving her in nothing but the shift underneath. 

Aemond drank the image of her body, just visible underneath the thin muslin material of her shift. The image of her punching Luke replayed in his mind’s eye over and over again. The way she stood there with her chest heaving, the turn of her little waistline, the shape of her pear shaped hips and thighs. Her ass. Fuck, her ass. 

His hands gripped her hips and tossed her on her stomach, withdrawing a gasp and yelp at the rough and sudden movement. Aemond was quick to tear off the rest of the torn dress from her, snaking her arms out of it and tossing it aside. Then he pulled her hips up towards him, and Aenys was quick to assume the position. 

This was how they always coupled; with her face buried in the pillows, her ass up for him as he bred her like a bitch in heat. He told himself that the reason he chose that position was because he did not want to see her face when he released his spend in her. That their coupling was solely for the purposes of procreation, and seeing her face would simply soften his cock. But, no, that wasn’t it at all… The truth of it was that Aemond absolutely loved Aenys’ ass. And what’s more, it even seemed to get bigger when she became a mother.

Aenys’ eyes fluttered closed when she felt his fingers slowly run up her thighs, pushing up the fabric of her shift, exposing her rear to him. She was so fucking wet, so needy, she could feel her walls clenching around nothing in eager anticipation. It originated, of course, during her budding tryst with her maid, but it was amplified the moment Aemond grabbed her.

Gods, how she hungered for his touch. He cruelly deprived her of it for years and years, forcing her to seek it in others, only to find shallow fulfillment. Aenys had no idea what got into him that evening, but she wasn’t complaining. Mayhaps it was the supper, the adrenalin rush of what conspired. Even she would concede watching Aemond dominate a room with a simple toast had riled her up. Had she known her husband had similar sentiments, she would have fucked him right then and there, in front of their entire fucking family. 

Aenys let out a whimper of anticipation, waiting for the sounds of his laces to be undone so he could sink into her impatient core. It wasn’t coming. All she could feel was the heat of his body, the gentle brush of his breath on her exposed skin, and the searing brand of his stare. Aenys moved her hips closer to him, coaxing him to take her, to fuck another son into her.

“Aemond,” She sounded so pathetic, so needy.  

Aemond hummed, a little bit amused by her reaction to him. The end of his lip curled in a devious little smirk. “Tell me, wife, are you always this impatient with your lovers?” He punctuated his question as he leaned over her and grounded his clothed hips against her rear, his hardened length painfully evident. 

A small gasp escaped her parted lips, “N-no–”

“No?” His voice was a quiet rumble, one hand gripping her hip as he grinded against her ass, and the other was planted on the mattress to keep himself steady. “An wanton whore like you? I am surprised, Aenys.” 

“They’re… They’re not–” She softly moaned when his fingers slid down the slope of her spine. 

“They’re not what?” Aemond’s voice was low and rough and so close to her that it sent vibrations down her ear canal.

“Not you.” 

Aemond paused his grinding when she said that, his eye watching her closely as if he was processing this confession. Finally, he hummed, his smirk returning, “No, they are not.”

He pulled away from her, both hands finding the globes of her ass and pulling them apart so he could see her puckered hole and the sheen of her wet core. “How many men have been inside these, I wonder…” His thumb inches deftly close to her hole, recalling the comment she made earlier that evening about how anal had become her ‘speciality’. Aemond decided he would have her prove that statement, but not right now.

“Hells, Aemond, please, just fucking touch– Ah!” She yelped sharply and jerked forward when he slapped her ass. He was then quick to rub the area he had struck; she could have sworn she heard him chuckle softly as he did. 

“Whores do not make demands,” Aemond gripped her hips again and pulled her flush against his thighs, then he reached over and gripped the scruff of her hair at the back of her head. His fingers curled at the roots as he pulled her back, arching her painfully. “You want me to touch you, sweet sister? You want me inside of you again, hm?”

Aenys’ face was twisted in pain and pleasure. Her mouth was hanging open and her eyes were shut as she endured the uncomfortable position he was bending her in.

“Yes, yes, fuckin’ hells, Aemond,” her plea was laced with budding frustration. She could feel her thighs tremble from not only the position, but from the sheer eagerness for him. 

“Then you will renew your vows right here, right now,” his grip tightened on her hair, making her whimper again. “You belong to me, and only me. Say it, Aenys.” 

“I-I,” she struggled to speak as her neck craned back. “I belong t-to you, Aemond.”

“You will take no other lovers.”

“I will take no other lovers,” she echoed his words without hesitation.

“Your body will belong to me, and only me.”

“Only you, Aemond, my body belongs to you, please–please– Ee-ah!” Her mouth widened as she let out a loud whimper when he bucked his hips into her behind. 

“And why is that, sister? Why do you belong to me?” His nose hovered next to her ear, the waft of his hot breath making her eyes flutter. 

“Because—Because I’m–I’m your wife. ‘Nd- And I’m your-your property,” her tongue darted to wet her drying lips. 

Aemond’s eye shut, his head leaned back as a rumbly moan reverberated in his chest. Hearing Aenys say those words gave him the same feeling he had when he claimed Vhagar. A lightness bloomed in his belly, warm like the sun as it pooled into the veins of his cock, making him harder than he already was.

He claimed the unclaimable mount; Aenys, the wild dragon of King’s Landing. 

Incapable of waiting any longer, Aemond lets go of Aenys’ hair, making her collapse back on the bed with a strangled sigh. Soon after his hands were around her waist, sharply flipping her over again, and gripping the front of her shift and tearing the fabric open much like the dress before it. The shift was shredded in seconds, exposing her completely before him, looking like a gods damn feast, and it was all for him. 

Aemond’s eye settled on her core, the tufts of ivory curls glistening with her essence. He felt his mouth water at the sight. 

Aenys was breathing hard, her back aching from being bent in half a moment ago. But that didn’t matter, her mind was reeling with desire and her limbs felt like they were worming around slowly, involuntarily, like a coiling snake. Despite her needy state, she couldn’t help but comment about her shredded attire. 

“Are you going to make it a habit to rip up all my clothing, Aemond?”

Aemond’s heated gaze shifted from her core up to her face, “If it keeps you like this for me, yes.” 

Before she could respond, his arms are wrapping around her thighs and he’s dropping on his stomach, pulling her sex towards his face. Aenys’ eyes bulge open as he buries his face into her nest of curls. Aemond did not gift her a second to compute what was happening, because he was immediately devouring her with relentless vigor. 

“OOooh, fucking hells, AEMOND!”

His tongue was lapping up her pearl like he was trying to slurp it up from an oyster. Then brought up his fingers to join, delving into her folds, curling into that spongy spot hidden within her. Aemond was relentless in his speed and force, putting his wife into a frenzy of torturous pleasure. Aenys’ thighs were jerking and trembling uncontrollably, forcing Aemond to hold them down so he could continue his assault on her cunt unimpeded. But the stimulation was virtually agonizing, making Aenys writhe and kick her legs, her pleas for him to slow down were almost incomprehensible. 

“A-a-a-aemon-mon– fuck-f-fufufuck, s-sto-p—” But his lips wrapped around her pearl and he started to suckle on it. Her hips sharply buckled into him, as a long guttural moan vibrated her lungs.

“F-f-f-f-fuck, ‘m gonna-’m gonna—”

And just when she was going to reach that blinding peak, the fucker pulls away. Aenys falls into a heap on the mattress, her muscles release its tension, but her loins are tightly wound up and flushed pink from Aemond’s last meal. 

When Aenys looks up with bleary eyes, a furrowed brow, and panting breaths, she sees Aemond put his fingers into his mouth, sucking off her juices from his digits. He’s still looking at her like he hasn’t eaten a damn thing all day. 

“What the fuck has gotten into you?” She questioned through her rapid breathing, her heart thrumming wildly in her chest. 

“Do you really want me to stop just to answer that question?”

There was no deliberation, “No.” 

“Good.”

Aemond stands at the foot of the bed, starting to unbuckle his jerkin. Aenys is quick to scoot to the edge of the bed to help him unlace his breeches. Within several seconds, Aemond was just as bare as her, all except for his eyepatch. Though that wouldn’t last for long. 

Aenys got on her knees on top of the bed, making her almost eye level with him. Aemond watched her unblinkingly as she raised her fingers to touch the side of his face, following the scar until her nail hit the eyepatch. She took it off with a surprising amount of tenderness, being that it was the first time he had ever let her near his injured eye. 

Aenys' eyes started to gloss over as she really took in the sight. To finally see the carnage up close, the gnarled skin, the scar slicing down the middle, pink at the ridges. His damaged eyelids fluttered at the feeling of her fingers ghosting around it. Suddenly the weight of the past came flooding back to her; the guilt clawing up her throat. She should have been there for him when it happened, she should have been there to protect her little brother. Aenys opened her mouth to say something, but before she could let out a noise, Aemond took the hand that was on his cheek and placed a kiss on the palm, a gesture of forgiveness. 

“We will make them pay, Aemond,” her tone was soft, but the threat was laced in a venomous promise. 

Something flashed in Aemond’s eye. A spark of fire that reflected the one in Aenys’ violet orbs. With a low growl, Aemond grasped the front of her neck like she was a goblet of fine Arbor Red and pulled her into a devouring kiss, as possessive as it was searing. This was the first time the two of them kissed since their wedding. 

In a flurry of limbs and a ballad of moans and groans, Aenys and Aemond grasped, grabbed and fought each other as they both tried to fill the dominant role, all the while keeping their lips glued together. Aenys' legs wrapped around his middle, Aemond’s were holding her thighs from underneath as they rolled and bumped around the room, hitting every surface they could find, colliding into things and causing stuff to crash and break on the floor. 

Aemond’s cock was pressed against her cunt, twitching and leaking and eager to be inside of her. The blunt tip would brush against her pearl every once in a while in their clumsy wrestling, making her whine and then growl in frustration. Before too long, their bodies were entangled on the bed again, as Aenys tried to fight for her position to be on top. However, in the process of that, the two of them went tumbling onto the floor, with Aemond hovering over her body and Aenys laying flat on her belly. 

Groaning, Aenys pushed herself on her knees, giving Aemond ample opportunity to grab onto her hips and pull her against him. With his cock nestled between her thighs, he stood on his knees, gripping the hair at the back of her head and pulling her flush against his torso. In front of them stood her floor length mirror, the display presented to them was lewd, humiliating and insanely arousing. 

Aemond stared at her reflection, his eye blackened by his pupil. He peered over her shoulder as one arm wrapped around her waist and the other pulled her hair back, craning her neck. Aenys had no choice but to balance on the balls of her feet, her legs straddling his as he sat on his knees. Aemond’s curved cock pressing against the slit of her mound, brushing against her pearl when it twitched. 

The arm that was wrapped around her middle slowly moved down until his palm reached her mons. A long finger dipped through her curls until he found her abused nub, instantly sending her thighs into a tremble. Unlike earlier, his ministrations were slower, building her high back up at a steadfast pace. Aenys' hips rotated against his hand, her whines gentle, but the sweat on the back of her neck and brow showed her desperation for release. 

“Look at yourself, sweet sister,” Aemond purred into her ear, the vocal fry of his tone sending a shiver down her spine. “So desperate for me and only me. I always wondered, Aenys: is it my cock you imagine when you fuck your lovers? Do you close your eyes and imagine it is my body pressed against yours?”

Aenys was panting desperately, a soft mewl on her lips when she nodded. 

“Use your words, darling, or I’ll stop.”

She groaned in annoyance, knowing she had no choice but to comply. With his cock hot against her slit, she couldn’t take the waiting any longer. 

“Y-yes,” she finally admitted begrudgingly through her clenched teeth. Both of her hands were grasping his forearm, the one wrapped around her, the one whose hand was massaging her pearl. “Yes, Aemond, I– I crave you so fucking much, it drives me insane. Aemond, please–please–” 

Aemond chuckled into her ear, his grin of self-satisfaction looking like a wolf about to devour the doe he had been trying to chase down for days. 

“Oh, Aenys,” he nuzzles his nose into her hair, next to the shell of her ear, “I’m going to make sure the whole damn Kingdom knows who you belong to. There won’t be a year in your life where you won't be carrying my child.” 

Aenys' eyelids fluttered at his statement, the heat pooling down to her cunt like a rush of lava. Aemond uses both his hands to grip her thighs, forcing her to squat above him, letting the blunt tip of his cock align with her sex. With one of his hands, he moves it along the sopping wet folds, brushing against her sore pearl before finding the entrance below. His mouth pops open as he slowly pushes her hips down, spearing his cock into her until he reaches the hilt. 

Aenys threw her head back into his shoulder and Aemond buried his face into the crook of her neck, a guttural groan emitting from his throat. Her warmth enveloped him like nothing else he’s ever found before. Not Sylvi, not the random whores he endured when Sylvi was not available. Aenys' cunt fit him perfectly, like she was made for him, and yet still hugged around his girth in a velvety vice. And when her walls fluttered around him, Aemond nearly collapsed into her back, a grumbly sigh of satisfaction filtering through his lips. 

He feels his wife grinding her hips against his, her mewls of pleasure tickling the inside of his ears tantalizingly. Regaining his composure, Aemond straightened up and wrapped his arm around her, gripping her hip with one hand, and using the other to grasp onto her left breast. With his calloused fingers, he pinched and pulled at her over sensitive nipples while he made sharp and short thrusts into her, effectively having her bounce on his cock. 

Aenys softly mewled and squirmed in his grasp, trying to match his thrusts with the backing up of her hips. Her hair pooled over her left shoulder, while Aemond hovered over her right. They were watching each other through the mirror, mouths hanging open as they devoured each other with their gazes. Panting, gasps, and gentle moans filled the room, making the air sticky and hot. Aenys suddenly gave a loud whine when he tugged on her nipple, causing Aemond to nearly pause his thrusts when he felt a lukewarm liquid on his fingertips.

Aemond blinked in surprise when he looked down and saw the milk leaking from her nipple. He only had to process it for a few short seconds before he turned absolutely feral. In a flash of movements, Aenys was suddenly hoisted up and turned around, and Aemond was perched on the edge of the bed now. In a quick motion, he wasted no time in slotting back into her like a sword swiftly sheathing into a scabbard. Her head snapped backward as her mouth gaped widely open to let out a loud grunt of pain and pleasure, thanks to Aemond’s cock punching against her cervix.

Her husband gripped the curve of her rear in both hands, fingers digging into the meat as he spread open her cheeks, his middle finger rubbing against the puckered entrance there. His head dipped to her chest and quickly captured her nipple between his lips, and immediately Aenys could feel the sensation of milk leaving her. The tension of her sore breast was immediately relieved as Aemond nursed her; a feeling that was elevated as he pistoned into her still, his grip on her ass making her hips grind against his length, and the curve of his cock to rub against her the sensitive spot inside of her over and over again. 

“Oh, gods, Aemond–” Her head tilted back, her spine rigid with the steady stream of pleasurable sensations he was gifting her. 

He moaned in response against her tit, his fingers tightening into the flesh of her plush rear. The taste of her mother’s milk on his palette was absolutely heavenly; she tasted so sweet, so warm, and the texture felt like liquid silk. Coupled with the fluttering of her walls around his cock, Aemond could already feel his balls tighten and the base of his spine tingle. His release was near, and based on the increase of her whines as she bounced on him, so was she. 

Reluctantly, Aemond pulled away from her breast and looked up at her, his sister, his wife, his Aenys. She looked down at him with parted lips, swollen and flushed with desire, her pupils blown wide and tears forming at the corners. Her hands moved from his shoulders to cup the arch of his jawline, bringing him close to her until their noses bumped and they were breathing each other’s oxygen through their panting parted lips. “Aenys,” her name fell from his lips like a plea, a stark contrast to the dominant commands he had given her the past hour or so. 

“Aemond,” she replied, her voice light as she felt the rise of her impending orgasm, punctuated by the flutter of her cunt. Aemond’s curved cock was relentless in his thrusts, bullying the spongy part inside of her that sent electric thrills throughout her core. It wouldn’t be too long before she is sent hurtling through all seven heavens. 

His grip on her ass tightened, his thrusts became more erratic and the creases in his brow deepened. Aemond gritted his teeth and shut his eye as his growls and groans built up higher and higher. He was reaching such heights he had never experienced before. Though it was like his body knew to wait, until the precise perfect moment, because he didn’t reach his peak until his wife did. Aenys' walls clenched around his girth like a python’s grip, her hands curled into his hair as she sharply gasped and moaned, long and primal. Aemond watched with wide-eyed fascination as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. 

With a few more erratic thrusts up into her, Aemond’s hips stuttered and he gripped tightly onto her. His nose was buried into her neck as he pulled her flushed into him, stilling her movements so he would not get overstimulated. Her name was a gospel of sin and love and longing, sounding guttural and animalistic coming out through his teeth. Ropes of his seed filled her, painting her walls over and over again, filling her awaiting womb. 

Their combined orgasms sent spasms through their limbs, prolonging the pleasure for a few more moments before their muscles loosened and they were left panting on the edge of the bed. Aenys could already feel their combined releases trail down her canal, collecting around the base of his cock and dampening her thighs. 

Feeling utterly spent, Aemond collapsed backwards, bringing her down with him. His softening cock remained inside of her, not willing to release it from the hot velvety embrace. He instead kept his hand splayed on her back while she rested her ear on his heart, both of them panting and silent in the afterglow of their love making. 

Slowly their breathing eased. When they were able to breathe through their noses, Aemond broke the silence, his voice was rough and coarse, yet uncharacteristically tentative. 

“Aenys–” He cleared his throat, his large hand caressing her spine in small circles. “I-I–”

“Shh,” she gently hushed him. Lifting her heavy head, she looked up at him with soft and sober eyes. “I know, brother. I know…”

The words known, but unspoken hung in the air between them. As she and Aemond stared at each other, Aenys couldn't help but feel whole for the first time in her life. 

She felt worthy. 

She felt loved.

Notes: Criticisms are always welcome, but if your only criticism is that dared to make a gender bent character, I'm going to respectfully delete/ignore it. This story came out more tragic than I intended, but eh. I realized while I was writing it that Fem!Aegon would have been in a worse position as a woman, and I decided to explore how she would've been treated had she retained the same personality as canon Aegon. Anyway, hope it was worth the wait, and the long read. The smut itself was over 4k words, lol. Go big or go home, ammirite?

Important: The characters in this one shot do not belong to me, but to GRRM and HBO. Everything written in this short story is written by me, with out the aid of an AI. This is a fanfiction, and therefore free content. Please do not re-post, re-distribute, or translate without my permission. Doing so will be an act of plagiarism, even if you credit me. The only other place this story is posted on, is on my Ao3, under the same username.

Tag List: @aramiv , @aegonisdrunk, @helaegonlover, @startledmonster

*if tumblr doesn't properly tag you, I'll try to send you a message

[luv-lock]

⸻ ʟ ɪ ᴛ ᴛ ʟ ᴇ ꜱ ɪ ꜱ ᴛ ᴇ ʀ ⸻

Pairing: Poly Aemon, Baelon and Alyssa x Targaryen Reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[hisfavegirl]

Held Only in Dreams - Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader.

Summary : There was a time when your halls rang with laughter. When your chambers were filled with the soft shuffle of tiny feet and the scent of lemon cakes cooling on the windowsill. A time when your husband’s hand curled possessively over the swell of your stomach, whispering prayers to gods he claimed not to believe in. A time when you were not only queen—but mother, wife, sister, daughter, beloved. That time is gone. Now, the Red Keep feels like a tomb. Your son is dead—burned before your eyes in the dragonpit, his small body offered to flame while your screams echoed through stone and fire. And with him, the future you built crumbled to ash.

Warning : Reader is Rhaenyra's Daughter, Angst, Mentions Of Bloods, Fluff, Child Loss, Stillbirth, Grief, Death Of a Loved One, Trauma, War-related Violence.

Aegon II Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

Tom Glynn-Carney Masterlist.

Dividers by @zaldritzosrose

The scent of death was a bitter perfume in the Dragonpit that day. Smoke, old stone, and blood clung to the air, heavy and unmoving, as though the world itself had paused to mourn. You stood still, the silk of your black mourning gown whispering around your legs in the thick silence. The wind toyed with the ends of your dark hair, but you barely felt it.

Your eyes—wide, bloodshot—were locked on the small, shrouded body of your son, Jaehaerys. He looked too small to be dead. Too light. Too still. The pyre of wood beneath him crackled faintly, waiting for flame. And yet all you could hear was the memory of his last breath.

“Mother—”

That broken whisper. That tremble in his lips. The way his little hand clutched yours like he still believed you could save him. It played again and again in your mind like a cruel curse. You couldn’t stop it. Wouldn’t. Didn’t want to forget.

You did not weep. Not until it started.

Aegon moved before you even registered it.

He stepped forward, his white hair untamed in the wind, shadows etched deep under his violet eyes. He didn’t look like a king—he looked like a man stripped bare. The grief in his jaw was rigid, his throat moving as he swallowed it down, over and over again. His gaze flicked up to Sunfyre, who waited just beyond the pyre, golden and restless.

Aegon voice hoarse and unsteady.

“Dracarys.”

The word echoed.

And then Sunfyre unleashed.

The fire roared, gold and white, greedy and all-consuming as it swallowed the wood, the silk, the body. Your baby. The heat slammed into your face and that was when the sob tore free, unbidden and raw, and you collapsed.

Your knees hit the stone with a crack, hands shaking, teeth clenched so hard your jaw hurt. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. The flames danced in your eyes but all you saw was his smile—his first steps—his tiny fingers playing with your hair. Gone. Burned. Turned to ash.

You didn’t notice Aegon move until he was there—kneeling beside you, wrapping his arms around your trembling form like he was holding himself together by holding you. His grip was desperate, his chest shaking against your back.

“I should’ve protected him,” he said against your hair, his voice a whisper turned to splinters. “Gods, I should’ve protected him.”

You turned, slowly, painfully, looking at him through your tears. “We’re his parents. We both should have.”

He cupped your face, and for a moment, the firelight turned his eyes to molten amethyst. “You blame me,” he said, barely audible.

“I blame the war. I blame the greed. I blame the fucking throne,” you whispered, gripping the front of his coat. “I don’t have room to hate you, Aegon. I’m too full of hurt.”

He nodded, a slow, devastated motion, pressing his forehead against yours. His breath was hot with whiskey and regret.

“I wake up hearing his voice,” he said. “Every godsdamned night. And I pray for the morning when it doesn’t break me.”

Your lips parted, your breath catching. “Then let it break you. Let it destroy everything, but not us. Not now.”

Aegon’s thumb brushed your cheek as if memorizing the shape of your sadness. “Then burn with me,” he said, voice cracking. “We burn together.”

You kissed him—not for passion, not for want, but for grief. A kiss that trembled with loss, mouths crushed together in silence, tasting salt and ashes. It was an anchor. A promise. A shared ruin.

Behind you, your son’s pyre roared louder. And as the sky darkened and the smell of smoke soaked into your skin, you held each other there on the cold stone floor—two parents grieving a child lost to the madness of dragons and crowns.

The fire ate everything but the pain.

The hearth crackled, low and unrelenting, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls of your shared chambers. It was late, though you couldn’t say what hour. Time had lost its meaning somewhere between the scream that tore from your lips the day Jaehaerys died, and the silence that followed.

You sat curled in front of the fire, your nightgown wrinkled and damp with old tears, legs drawn up tightly to your chest. Your bare feet were cold against the floor, but you didn’t move. The warmth from the hearth touched your skin, but could not reach the frost that settled inside you. That hollow ache had rooted deep, twisting through your ribs like a knife left in place.

The door creaked open.

You didn’t look. You didn’t have to.

Alicent Hightower.

Her steps were soft, deliberate—like one might approach a wounded animal. You felt her presence like a shadow behind you. A ghost that lingered long after the spirit had gone.

“Child,” she called gently, the same tone she might’ve used before you married Aegon—before the world became red and burning and ash. “Please. Look at me.”

You didn’t.

Your gaze remained fixed on the fire. The flames were mesmerizing. They didn’t care who they consumed. Perhaps that’s why you liked them now.

“I did not come to fight,” Alicent continued after a moment. “I only came to see if you—”

“If I what?” you whispered, not turning your head. “If I still bleed? If I still have a voice to scream your name into the void of loss? If your grandson still lies in ash while you walk freely in silks?”

Silence. Her breath caught, but she didn’t move.

“I came to grieve with you,” she said quietly.

You laughed, a low, humorless sound that scraped from your throat like gravel. “You came to ease your guilt. Don’t pretend otherwise.”

“I loved Jaehaerys.”

At that, you turned your head—slowly. Your brown eyes, hollow and rimmed with shadow, met hers with a weight that made Alicent physically recoil.

“Not enough to stop this,” you said. “Not enough to stop your father. Not enough to stop Aegon from being forced into a crown soaked in blood. You stood there. You chose it.”

“I was protecting my family.”

“And I lost mine.”

The words hung in the air, thick and furious, trembling on the edge of sobs. You pressed your forehead against your knees, voice muffled when you spoke again.

“The gods are cruel,” you whispered. “To take my grandsire. To make Aegon a king he never wanted to be. And now… now our boy. My son.”

Alicent stepped closer, but you raised your hand without looking.

“Do not touch me.”

She froze, her hands curling into her skirts.

“My son died because your house could not bear to see mine rule,” you continued, your voice low, steady, like the calm eye of a storm. “Because your father—your ambition—demanded Hightower blood on the throne.”

Alicent flinched. “You think I wanted this?”

“I think you let it happen,” you hissed, turning back to the fire. “And now I sit in a palace of rot, raising ashes to my lips and pretending they are food. I sleep in a bed soaked with the screams of a child who will never wake.”

“You are not alone in this—”

“I am!” you snapped, finally standing. “Do you think Aegon can even look at me without falling apart? Do you know what it’s like to feel your husband’s hands shake every time he touches your stomach, as if terrified he might find it growing again, and lose another child? Your grief is guilt. Mine is emptiness.”

Alicent’s face crumpled, but no tears fell. She swallowed her sorrow like she had done her whole life—one bitter cup after another.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

You shook your head, stepping closer to her, voice trembling now. “I was his mother. I should have died before he did. And instead, I live—watching my world fall to pieces while the people who shattered it come to me offering apologies wrapped in silence.”

Alicent reached out again, but this time you didn’t move away. You let her fingers brush your arm, light and uncertain.

“You don’t have to forgive me,” she said.

“I won’t.”

Her hand dropped.

“But,” you added softly, “if you want to honor Jaehaerys… if you want to be more than a puppet in your father’s hand, then fight for peace. Fight for something besides thrones and dragons and gods.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to.” You looked into her eyes, firm now. “Because I have nothing left to fight with.”

The fire behind you flared, its glow bleeding through your silhouette like a halo of grief. And Alicent, for the first time in years, said nothing. She just bowed her head and left you alone—again—with the flames.

The echo of your footsteps carried down the long, cold corridor of the Red Keep like a ghost haunting its own halls. You hadn’t walked them in days—not since the fire, not since the world bled your son from your arms and left behind the hollow shell of motherhood.

But today, the silence in your chambers had felt too loud. The walls too suffocating. The hearth too cold.

And so, wrapped in black, with your hair braided back like a warrior in mourning, you walked.

You reached the heavy doors of the council chamber and paused. Fingers curled at your sides. The guards opened them without a word, heads bowed—not as subjects to a queen, but as men who had seen death too close.

Inside, the chamber was dim despite the daylight. Clouds smothered the sun beyond the high windows. Around the long table, the council murmured—quiet, uncertain—but they stopped when they saw you.

And you saw him.

Aegon sat slouched in the throne-like seat at the head of the table, his shoulders curved forward as if the crown itself weighed too much to bear. His tunic hung open at the chest, the buttons undone and forgotten. There were dark circles under his eyes and stubble lining his jaw, as though days had passed without sleep, without care.

But worst of all—he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even there. He stared blankly at the tabletop, unmoving, like a man carved from grief. Your heart clenched so tightly in your chest it hurt.

His head turned slowly when he felt your presence. His breath hitched the moment his eyes landed on you—as if you had appeared from a dream, or worse, a memory he wasn’t ready to see in the flesh.

You stepped forward, your voice soft but commanding.

“Leave us.”

The lords hesitated. One of them opened his mouth to protest—perhaps to speak of duties or strategy—but your gaze flicked to him, and the sharp grief in your eyes struck him dumb.

They stood, slowly. Chairs scraped the floor. Cloaks brushed the stone. No one dared speak. They filed out with silent bows, the doors clicking shut behind them, sealing you inside with him.

Aegon didn’t speak. Just looked at you like you were the last star in a dying sky.

You approached him slowly, your skirts rustling, your steps measured. Each one toward him felt like a step through fire. You stopped just before him, not touching, not breathing.

“I’ve missed you,” you said softly, your voice a cracked whisper.

His eyes brimmed, but no tears fell. “I didn’t think you’d come.”

“You didn’t come to me either.”

“I couldn’t,” he rasped. “Every time I looked at the bed, I saw him. Every time I touched your pillow, I felt your sobs in my hands. Gods, I didn’t know how to be with you without falling apart.”

You dropped to your knees before him, your hands resting gently on his thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his trousers.

“You’re supposed to fall apart with me, Aegon. We’re not meant to carry this alone.”

His chest heaved, and he looked away, ashamed. “I’m the king. I don’t get to grieve. I sit in this chair, I listen to them speak of banners and blood, and all I want is to scream his name until the gods bring him back to me.”

You leaned your forehead against his knee, eyes shutting. “I died with him too.”

His hand moved—tentative, trembling—and threaded into your hair.

“I keep waking up expecting him to run into our chambers,” he whispered. “Asking me to carry him on my shoulders again. And then I remember… what they did to him. What they took.”

He choked, his voice cracking with guilt. “He was only a boy. And I was supposed to protect him.”

You lifted your head and looked up at him, eyes glistening. “He died because they wanted your throne. Because we were born of fire, and they would rather burn the world than see it ruled by dragon blood not of their making.”

Aegon looked down at you—really looked—and his face crumpled. You stood, then, sliding into his lap, your arms around his neck. His hands grabbed at your back, desperate and tight, like he was trying to fuse you to him. His lips found your neck—not in lust, but in need—and he buried himself there, breathing you in like he was drowning and you were the only air.

“I need you,” he murmured against your skin. “I can’t do this without you.”

“You don’t have to.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, your hand cupping his face.

“You’re not a king right now. You’re just my husband. Our son is gone, and all we have left is each other. If we don’t hold on to that, we’ll drown.”

He kissed you then—messy, wet, raw with grief and love and desperation. Not to forget, but to remember. To feel. His hands curled into your sides, pulling you closer, and your tears mixed between your mouths.

“I love you,” he whispered brokenly. “Even in this ruin, I love you.”

You pressed your forehead to his, breath mingling. “Then don’t leave me alone again.”

“I won’t.”

Outside, the war still burned. The court still whispered. The gods still played their cruel games.

But inside the council chamber, on a throne of sorrow, a king and queen clung to one another in the only kind of power that mattered now.

You stayed in Aegon’s arms long after the storm of sobs had passed, held together not by strength but by shared ruin. Your face was buried in the hollow of his neck, his hands splayed across your back as though if he stopped touching you, even for a moment, you’d vanish again. The air in the council chamber was heavy with salt and smoke, with grief and something older—like the lingering scent of burnt flesh and broken oaths.

It was the first time in days that you’d felt him. Truly felt him. And then the doors opened, Aegon’s arms tightened around you, instinctive and bracing.

You didn’t lift your head.

You didn’t need to.

You knew who it was the moment the sharp footfall struck the stone. Measured. Unflinching. Proud.

Aemond.

You remained perfectly still.

“My king,” his voice rang out, calm and cold, like the blade that had started this war. “The man who murdered your son—he is in the black cells. He awaits your judgment.”

Silence.

Aegon’s hand moved slowly, brushing over your hair, down your spine. You could feel his throat work against your cheek as he swallowed. You could feel the way his chest tensed beneath your palm, the way his rage and sorrow warred against each other like wildfire.

You didn’t move. You couldn’t.

Not when he was standing there. Not when his voice was in the air you had to breathe.

“You should go,” you said quietly, not lifting your head. Aegon looked down at you, confused.

“I can’t—” Your voice cracked. “I won’t see him.”

“My love…”

You pulled away from Aegon’s embrace just enough to sit back, your eyes glistening but firm. You stared at the stone floor, not at the door.

“I can’t look at the man who tore my brother from the sky. I can’t see the face of the one who turned dragons into monsters and blood into war.”

Aemond shifted near the doorway, but said nothing.

“Everything began with him,” you whispered. “With his arrogance. With his wrath. With his need to claim victory over a child.”

There was silence, heavy and thick, like smoke pressing against your lungs.

Aemond stepped forward. “You think I do not carry the weight of Lucerys’s death every day? You think I sleep easily knowing what I did? It was not meant to be—”

“Don’t,” you snapped, lifting your head for the first time, your brown eyes blazing with sorrow and fury. “Do not stand there and speak of regret while my brother is bones in the sea and my son is ash in the wind.”

Aemond faltered, just for a moment, his mouth tightening.

You turned away again, facing the fire like it could shield you. “You want forgiveness. You want understanding. But you don’t get to ask that of me. Not when your sword carved a wound into my family that will never heal.”

Aegon stood, moving beside you. His hand rested on your shoulder, grounding you. He looked at Aemond then—his brother, his kin—and for the first time in weeks, his voice held something sharp beneath the grief.

“You should have never been there, Aemond. You were supposed to be my sword, not my firestarter. Look at her,” he motioned to you gently. “Look at what’s left of us.”

Aemond’s eye burned with some emotion too complex to name—remorse, shame, defiance.

“She is my family too,” he said. “I did not come to ask her pardon. I came because I thought she deserved to know that the man who took Jaehaerys’s life will suffer. That justice, at the very least, is within our grasp.”

You stood slowly, your voice quiet, trembling with tightly caged fury. “Justice?” you echoed. “Justice would be turning back time. Justice would be undoing what you did to Luke. What your mother and grandsire did to this realm. What you—all of you—burned in your hunger for a crown.”

“I never wanted it,” Aemond snapped.

“But you never stopped it either,” you said, each word like a brand pressed to skin. “And now you speak of justice while the blood of children—mine and my mother’s—stains the stones beneath our feet.”

Aemond stepped back then, just once.

And it was enough.

You turned to Aegon, your face softening only for him.

“I want to see Jaehaerys avenged,” you said quietly. “But I will not find that peace in a cell or on a blade. I will find it when the realm stops bleeding. When the gods no longer feast on our young. When men like your brother stop pretending their violence was fate.”

You didn’t stay to hear Aemond’s reply. You walked past him without looking, the scent of ash and steel trailing you like a cloak. Your steps were sure now. You didn’t need fire in your lungs or vengeance on your tongue.

You had something sharper.

Truth.

And the weight of all that had been lost. Behind you, the council chamber remained still—just two broken brothers and the memory of everything they’d ruined.

The hearthfire crackled low in the corner of your chambers, casting long shadows across the walls—shadows that looked like dragons, or monsters, or memories. You didn’t know which anymore. You sat in the center of the bed with your legs folded beneath you, a soft woolen blanket clutched tightly in your arms. It was small—barely large enough to cover a toddler. Faded in color now, worn from use. But every thread was familiar. Every stitch had been made by your own hand.

It had taken you weeks to embroider the blanket for Jaehaerys. Tiny stars in silver thread danced along the edges, encircling a golden dragon stitched in the center—just as you had once whispered to your son, You are my little star. My little dragon.

You brought the fabric to your nose and inhaled deeply. His scent was still there. Faint, barely clinging to the threads, but there.

It was lavender soap and sunshine and the warmth of his tiny skin after a nap against your chest. You let out a trembling breath, and then a soft, broken laugh slipped from your lips.

You smiled.

For a moment, it felt like you were holding him again.

And then the moment passed.

Your chest tightened. Your heart clenched so violently it knocked the air from your lungs. The smile faded as your throat caught, and then your shoulders began to shake.

You curled tighter around the blanket.

“I held you,” you whispered, voice shaking as you rocked gently. “I held you as you were born… and I held you again as you—”

You couldn’t finish the sentence. Couldn’t say the word. Died. It tasted like blood and iron and grief on your tongue.

Your arms loosened as the sob slipped from your lips, quiet and sharp.

You knew where Aegon was—down in the black cells. You hadn’t spoken a word when he left. His hand had lingered on your shoulder, his eyes searching yours. But there had been nothing left to give him. Not in that moment. Only silence. And your son’s blanket.

He had gone to face the man who’d taken your baby’s life.

But you… you could not face the world.

You pressed your palm to your lower stomach, gently stroking the place where you had once felt life flutter. Jaehaerys had kicked there. He had hiccupped there. He had grown in your womb like a flame.

And now…

A sharp twist clawed through your belly. So sudden, so vicious it knocked the breath from your lungs. You gasped, your body lurching forward.

Your fingers clutched at the sheets as the pain lanced through you, deep and low. You tried to move, tried to rise—but your knees buckled beneath you before your feet even touched the floor. You collapsed sideways on the bed, one arm tangled in the blanket, the other pressing desperately to your stomach.

“No—no, no, no,” you panted, the pain doubling you. “Not now…”

You could barely think. The agony twisted and pulled like a vengeful spirit inside you, wringing every nerve. Your vision blurred. You tried to breathe, but your chest was tight with something worse than pain—terror.

Had grief broken you that deeply? Had loss hollowed you so fully that your body was now unraveling from the inside out?

You moaned, biting your lip to keep from screaming. You didn’t want the guards to hear. You didn’t want the maids or the servants or the court to see you like this.

You just wanted Aegon.

Your hand scrambled across the bed, reaching for anything—blankets, pillows—something to anchor you. Your fingers found the soft cloth again, the one with stars and the golden dragon.

You clutched it to your chest like it could save you. And then, through the fog of pain, you felt something. Something warm trickling down your thigh.

Your eyes widened. You looked down—and the dread that washed over you was cold, like seawater stealing the last embers of a fire.

Blood.

Not much. But enough.

You choked out a sound that wasn’t quite a sob. Or maybe it was. Maybe it was all sobs now. Maybe that was all you would ever be—a woman made of cries and ashes.

The door was too far.

Aegon was too far.

And you… you were crumbling.

Not from a sword or a war.

But from the ache that only mothers could know.

Still, even as the pain swallowed you whole, you did not let go of the blanket. Your fingers curled tighter around the scent of your son. Your dragon. Your little star. If this was death coming for you, it would have to pry it from your hands.

The corridors were silent as Aegon walked them, save for the fading echo of his boots across stone. He was numb.

The black cells had given him no satisfaction. No vengeance. Only the stench of rot and the hollow sound of a man begging for mercy that Jaehaerys had never been granted.

The crown on his head felt heavier than ever, like it had fused to his skull. He didn’t remember when he’d last eaten. He didn’t care. His hands were still smeared with dirt from gripping the iron bars too tightly, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. There was only one place he wanted to be now.

With you.

He reached your shared chambers and paused briefly before opening the door—bracing himself for your silence, for your back turned to him again, for the distance between you both that grief had carved like a canyon.

But when the door opened—

He froze.

The blood drained from his face.

You were on the floor. On your knees.

Your nightgown was soaked in blood from the waist down, the dark stain spreading fast across the silk. Your hands were pressed between your thighs, trembling as you clutched at yourself, and your face—gods, your face—was contorted in pain so raw, so violent it turned his bones to ice.

You didn’t even look at him. You just groaned, your voice low and ragged, like something was ripping you apart from the inside.

“No,” Aegon whispered, then louder—sharper. “NO.”

He bolted across the chamber, nearly slipping on the rug as he dropped to his knees beside you.

“Guards!” he bellowed, voice breaking with panic. “Get the maester—NOW! MOVE!”

You whimpered, your head lolling toward him as tears streaked your cheeks.

“Aegon,” you croaked. “I—it hurts—I can’t—”

“I know, I know,” he rasped, cradling you into his arms with a gentleness that defied the tremble in his hands. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you, love. You’re safe. Just breathe, alright? Just—just breathe.”

But how could you breathe with your body betraying you like this?

You writhed against him, crying out again, your fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic. Blood soaked into his lap as he held you, thick and hot and terrifyingly real. His mind raced—was this a miscarriage? Had he not known? Were you pregnant again after Jaehaerys?

Had the gods given him another child… only to tear it away again?

His throat closed. He pressed a shaking kiss to your temple.

“Stay with me,” he begged in a whisper. “Don’t—don’t leave me too. Please.”

You whimpered again, collapsing into his chest. “I’m sorry,” you cried. “I didn’t know—I didn’t even know—”

“Shhh, no.” He cupped your cheek, forcing you to look at him through your haze. “Don’t say that. Don’t you dare apologize. This is not your fault.”

The door burst open again, and he shouted over his shoulder, “Maester! She’s bleeding! Get over here, now!”

The elderly man rushed in with his apprentice and a flurry of linen and herbs. But Aegon wouldn’t let go of you.

Not until the maester forced him to.

“Your Grace, please—she needs to be laid down—”

“I said I’m not letting her go!” he snapped, eyes wild, voice cracking.

“Then help me,” the maester said firmly. “We may still save her.”

Those words snapped Aegon into motion. He helped lift you onto the bed, whispering soothing things even as you screamed again, your body arching from another wrenching spasm. The blood kept coming. The pain did not relent. And your eyes—

They found his. Desperate. Distant. Frightened.

“Don’t go,” you gasped. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” he swore. “Never, do you hear me?”

He sat at your side, gripping your hand so tightly his knuckles whitened, his other hand stroking your hair back from your damp forehead as the maester worked below the sheets, murmuring instructions and prayers.

The minutes passed like lifetimes.

You faded in and out, whimpering his name between cries of agony. He didn’t dare move. Didn’t breathe unless you did.

The worst kind of helplessness crawled beneath his skin. He was the king. He commanded armies. He held the lives of lords in his palm. And yet here—here, watching the only thing that mattered to him scream in pain—he was useless.

Useless and broken.

The chamber was dim, the fire in the hearth reduced to a low, wavering glow that painted the stone walls in the color of dying embers. The smell of herbs and blood still lingered in the air, clinging to everything like a shroud.

You didn’t speak.

You couldn’t.

You just lay there, in the cradle of Aegon’s arms, your face pressed into the hollow of his chest, and wept.

The sound was low at first—shaky, broken gasps that caught in your throat like glass. But then they deepened, became guttural, as though your soul had been carved open and all it could do now was ache.

And Aegon… said nothing.

He simply held you.

One hand curved protectively around the back of your head, stroking your hair in slow, aimless motions—like he might soothe the storm if only he kept his hand moving, if only he could pretend hard enough that he had the power to keep you from shattering completely.

His other arm circled you tightly, pulling your trembling body closer to his chest until you were clinging to him like a lifeline. Your fists curled in the fabric of his tunic, knuckles white, your nails digging in, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t move.

The only part of him that did was his jaw, clenched so tight it ached.

And his eyes—closed now—because he couldn’t bear to see you this way.

The maester’s words still echoed in his skull like a curse: The babe did not survive.

It should’ve been another whisper in the whirlwind of this war. Another quiet death among too many. But it wasn’t. This wasn’t a piece in the game. This wasn’t strategy. This wasn’t duty.

This was you. His wife. The only person left who touched the parts of him that were still human.

And that babe—

That had been the flicker of hope. The thing you both hadn’t dared to speak aloud after Jaehaerys. The balm that might’ve softened the open wound in your chests. Something small and warm and yours. Something that wasn’t built of blood and betrayal.

Now gone.

A future unmade in silence, in blood, on the cold stone floor of your chambers.

Your cries twisted into something smaller now—hiccuping gasps, hoarse whimpers, the sound of someone trying to breathe through grief that refused to loosen its grip.

You pulled back for just a moment, and Aegon looked down, eyes red-rimmed, haunted.

Your face was streaked with tears, lips parted as though you wanted to speak—but no words came. Only a soft, trembling shake of your head before you buried your face into his neck again, another wave of sobs wracking through you.

“I know,” he whispered finally, his voice low and ruined. “I know, love.” It was all he could say. Because there were no words that could unmake what had happened.

No king’s decree could call your baby back.

No dragonfire could burn the pain away.

Aegon held you tighter.

And for the first time in weeks, he let his own tears fall—silent and steady, slipping down his cheeks and into your hair as he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“We should’ve had peace,” he murmured, not sure if you could hear him, not sure if he was speaking to the gods or cursing them. “We should’ve had a life. A family.”

His hand kept moving, slow and reverent. He didn’t move even when your sobs quieted into nothing, when sleep finally took you from exhaustion, from pain.

He just held you there, with his arms locked around the one thing he still had and prayed the gods wouldn’t take you too.

The fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting amber shadows on the walls, but the warmth didn’t reach you. It couldn’t. Not when your insides had frozen over with grief.

You sat curled in on yourself, knees tucked tight against your chest, your arms wrapped around your shins like armor, your forehead resting lightly on your kneecaps. The clean nightgown clung to you loosely, the scent of the bathwater—lavender and lemon—already fading. You didn’t feel clean. You felt hollow.

Behind you, the chamber was quiet save for the soft rustle of silk and the hesitant approach of footsteps.

“Sweetling…” Aegon’s voice was barely above a whisper, thick with helplessness. “Please… talk to me.”

You didn’t move. Your eyes remained locked on the flames, as if there was something there you could decode—some hidden meaning in the dance of embers, some sign that might make sense of all this pain.

He stepped closer. “I can’t fix this. But I need you to let me try—”

You flinched when you felt his hand. Not because it startled you, but because it hurt—the gentleness of it. His fingers slid carefully through your hair, brushing it back from your face. He crouched behind you, resting on his knees. He was always taller, stronger, the dragon who carried fire in his blood… but right now, he seemed so small behind you. So unsure.

You said nothing. Just let him stroke your hair as your lips moved with a whisper that grew heavier with each repetition.

“The gods are cruel…” you murmured. “So cruel.”

Aegon exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead to the back of your shoulder. “I know.”

“No, you don’t.” Your voice cracked, your eyes never leaving the fire. “They don’t punish you. They punish me. They take my children. Our children. Over and over and over again.”

“I lost them too,” he whispered, and the pain in his voice made your spine stiffen. “I lost them with you. Every time.”

“But I carried them,” you whispered, and your voice caught. “I felt their hearts. I held them inside me. I gave them names in my sleep. I dreamed of what they’d look like—if they’d have my eyes or yours. I sang to them when you weren’t there.”

You turned your head just slightly, your profile catching the firelight. The tears had started again, sliding down your cheeks silently now, no longer wild or loud. Just endless.

“And what did I get for it?” Your voice shook. “Jaehaerys… murdered in his own bed. Our babe gone before they could take a breath.”

Aegon didn’t speak. He just rested his palm against your back, rubbing slow circles as if he could soothe the wound beneath your skin.

You inhaled shakily, your voice so soft now, it barely survived the air.

“This is my punishment.”

His hand paused.

You blinked, still not looking at him. “For choosing you. For choosing you over my mother.”

“Don’t,” he said quickly, voice rising. “Don’t you say that.”

“She warned me,” you went on, like in a trance. “She said loving you would destroy me. That war would follow you, pain would follow you. And I didn’t care. I chose you. I married you. I stood by you.” You finally turned your head toward him, your eyes bloodshot and wet. “And now… my children are dead. One by one, stripped from my arms.”

He looked like he’d been stabbed. “You think I don’t carry that guilt every time I look at you? That I don’t wonder if you would’ve been safer without me?”

You swallowed hard, your voice breaking again. “Maybe I would have.”

Aegon’s hand dropped from your back. He sat down beside you slowly, legs folding beneath him. The fire danced between your bodies, painting both of you in gold and shadow. You stared at each other in silence for a long moment—broken, tired, grieving in different ways.

“I know you hate me right now,” he said finally, his voice tight, like he was forcing it out past a wall in his throat. “And maybe you should. Maybe I deserve it. But gods be damned, I love you. I love you so much it hurts. And if I could take this pain from you—if I could give my own blood to bring him back—I would.”

You dropped your head again, your forehead brushing your knees. “I just want to be a mother again,” you whispered. “I want to hold my child. I want to feel life in my arms, not death.”

He reached out again, pulling you into his arms this time. The gesture was quiet, small… and yet full of the weight of a man who was watching the woman he loved drown.

You didn’t speak again, and neither did he. You simply melted into his arms in front of the fire, surrounded by the warmth you couldn’t feel, and the ghosts you couldn’t escape.

The scent of lemon cake still lingered in the corners of the chamber. You hadn’t touched it.

Aegon had left it for you on the small side table three days ago, a quiet offering, accompanied by a soft kiss to your temple and a promise you hadn’t answered. It had been your favorite once. Now, the sight of it only twisted your stomach into knots.

You hadn’t spoken more than a few words since the babe died. The pain clung to your skin like ash—so heavy, so absolute, it felt like you’d been buried with your child.

You hadn’t left the bed, either. The silken covers had long since twisted around your limbs, heavy and wrinkled with the days you’d spent curled in their cocoon. The hearth had gone cold, the fire long since died. You hadn’t asked anyone to tend it. What was the point?

Grief did not need warmth.

Your eyes were half-lidded, dry and red-rimmed, when the familiar creak of the chamber doors caught your attention. You didn’t look right away.

You expected the maid. Or perhaps Aegon again—come to coax, to plead, to wrap his arms around you and whisper that he was still here, even as you drifted further from everything.

But then—small footsteps.

You turned your head.

And the moment you saw them, your breath caught like a dagger in your throat.

Aegon stood in the doorway, his hand resting gently on the shoulder of your little daughter, and cradled in the other arm was your youngest—Maelor, still small enough to be carried.

But it was Jaehaera who shattered you. The soft golden hair. The pale, thoughtful face. The shape of her nose, the curve of her lips—so much like her twin brother.

So much like Jaehaerys.

Your body tensed, your arms shaking where they gripped the edge of the blankets, and your eyes stung before the tears even came. But they did come.

Not like before—not silent, not restrained. These tears broke through like a storm, sudden and unstoppable. You pressed a hand over your mouth as your shoulders crumpled forward. A sob tore from your throat.

Jaehaera stared at you, wide-eyed, not quite understanding why her presence had sparked such pain. She looked up at Aegon, confused, but said nothing—just held the small wooden doll in her hand tighter, as if for comfort.

You barely noticed Aegon’s steps as he crossed the room. Only when he knelt beside the bed and placed Maelor gently in the crook of your arm did your breath hitch again.

You turned your face away, overwhelmed, but then Jaehaera’s small hand touched your wrist.

“Mother?” Her voice was quiet. “Are you sad because my brother is with the gods?”

Your throat closed. You couldn’t speak.

You nodded, a slow, shuddering movement.

Jaehaera crawled up beside you carefully, climbing into the bed without hesitation. She tucked herself under your arm and laid her head on your chest.

“I’m sad too,” she whispered. “But Maelor still laughs when I tickle him. And I still remember when Jaehaerys told me stories about dragons flying backwards just to make me laugh. So maybe that means he’s not all gone. Maybe he’s still in the stories.”

That did it.

The sob that came out of you wasn’t just pain—it was a letting go, a surrender to everything you’d been trying to hold back. You held both your children tightly to your chest, one in each arm, and buried your face in Jaehaera’s soft hair.

Aegon sat on the edge of the bed beside you, not saying a word. But his hand covered yours, grounding you, as your grief spilled out in waves.

Your fingers clung to Jaehaera’s nightgown, the fabric soft and worn. You pressed a kiss to the top of Maelor’s head, his tiny hand patting your arm as though he, too, knew you needed to be brought back.

And for the first time since your womb had gone quiet, you felt something else break through the ache.

Not peace.

But presence.

The pieces of your heart that still remained—fragile, bruised, and alive—curled up in your arms. And for now, they were enough.

The chamber, once dim and heavy with mourning, now glowed soft with the orange flicker of candlelight. The hearth had been rekindled, its warmth reaching out in golden threads across the stone floor, weaving through your limbs, curling around your fingers.

You were still in bed, propped against the headboard with pillows stacked behind you, your hair loose, your gown wrinkled. But today—tonight—there was a softness on your face that hadn’t been there in weeks. Not a full peace. But something like… a pause in the sorrow. A breath of stillness.

Maelor was curled in your lap, warm and heavy against your stomach, his little legs splayed carelessly over the folds of your blanket. You had one hand around his back, supporting him, while your other arm held Jaehaera tucked beneath it. She was gently brushing the edge of your sleeve with her fingertips, lost in some private world of thought and comfort.

Maelor looked up at you, eyes wide and bright, those chubby cheeks pink with firelight. He babbled something incoherent—a string of sounds only a mother could recognize as a question. You blinked at him and tilted your head playfully.

“What is it, my sweet boy?”

He stared at your mouth like it held some grand secret. Then, with the solemn focus only a toddler could muster, he raised his tiny hands—soft, still sticky from honeyed bread—and cupped your face.

You barely had time to react before his thumb pressed into your cheek and his other hand reached down and grabbed your lower lip between two fingers.

It wasn’t painful—just surprising. The sudden tug made your mouth part in shock, and a small puff of laughter escaped you.

“Maelor!” you gasped through a breathless laugh.

Aegon, seated at the foot of the bed now, let out a playful huff, leaning back on his hands. “Gods,” he said with a smirk. “He’s already got your mouth. Now he’s claiming it.”

Your laughter grew, the sound light and trembling, like a song you hadn’t sung in far too long.

Jaehaera squealed with laughter beside you, her arms wrapping tighter around your waist as she buried her face against your side. “He always pulls mine too, mama!” she giggled. “He’s a silly dragon.”

“Silly indeed,” you murmured fondly, as Maelor, apparently satisfied with your lip, released it and let out a triumphant coo. Then, just as suddenly, he dropped forward and nuzzled into your neck, his little nose smushing into your skin, warm and soft and so achingly present.

Your breath hitched.

It wasn’t the sadness this time.

It was the ache of feeling, of realizing how much you’d missed this—how long you’d been drowning beneath the weight of your loss, barely able to register the blessings that still clung to you like lifelines.

Your arms wrapped more tightly around them both—your daughter and your son, your little lights in the long night—and you glanced toward Aegon.

He was watching you, his eyes softer now, the playful smile dimmed into something reverent.

Something aching.

“I missed you,” he said quietly. “We missed you.”

You swallowed, the knot in your throat tight but not suffocating. You leaned your cheek against Maelor’s curls, inhaling the faint scent of milk and lemons and the clean linen of his sleep tunic.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I was trying to hold it together… but I forgot how to reach for anything else.”

Aegon shifted closer, reaching out to touch your knee gently. “You don’t need to hold it together,” he murmured. “Not here. Not with us. You just need to be. Let them carry the rest.”

You looked at him, tears shining in your lashes, and nodded.

For a moment, the four of you were wrapped in something sacred—flawed, fraying, but still holy in its own quiet way.

Your son tugged your lip again, giggling now, proud of his new trick. Jaehaera shrieked with laughter, her head thrown back against your chest.

And you—you laughed too.

Real, full, and trembling.

Aegon closed his eyes as the sound filled the chamber, and when he opened them again, his gaze rested not on the shadows of your pain, but on the living proof of everything you still were.

Still whole.

Still mother.

Still here.

©2025 hisfavegirl. No part of this story may be copied, stored, transmitted, or shared in other apps.

Tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry @callsignwidow @ceoofglytchell @ashblooddragons @hayleythecannibal @laedeviour @venusbyline

[rottenfyre]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅: 𝘞𝘩𝘦𝘯 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳, 𝘢 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘦𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘳.

The nursery was a whirlwind of noise as Aegon and Aemond, stood nose-to-nose, arguing fiercely. Their baby sister sat on a blanket nearby, her wide violet eyes watching them with a mix of curiosity and confusion.

“She likes playing with me more!” Aegon insisted, his voice rising as he pointed toward their sister. “I’m the one who makes her laugh!”

“No, she likes me better!” Aemond shot back, crossing his arms defiantly. “I’m the one who reads to her!”

Their bickering continued, growing louder with each passing moment, neither of them noticing the soft patter of tiny footsteps approaching. Little Daeron toddled into the room, his big eyes full of innocence. He looked from Aegon to Aemond, then over to his sister, who was sitting quietly on her blanket, seemingly forgotten by her squabbling brothers.

Without making a sound, Daeron walked over to his sister, his steps wobbly but determined. He reached out with his small hands, and she, always delighted by her youngest brother, lifted her arms toward him. With surprising ease for his age, Daeron picked her up, wrapping his little arms around her as he balanced her on his hip.

The older boys were so engrossed in their argument that they didn’t notice as Daeron carefully carried their sister out of the nursery, her giggles muffled as she snuggled against him. He navigated the corridors with surprising confidence, eventually finding his way to the garden, where the late afternoon sun bathed the roses in a warm, golden light.

Daeron gently set his sister down between the tall rose bushes, their vibrant blooms towering over her. She giggled again, reaching out to touch the soft petals of a nearby flower. Daeron watched her for a moment, a wide smile on his face, before carefully plucking a small rose. He held it delicately in his tiny hands, just as he had seen the maids do, and then leaned in to tuck it into her hair.

“There,” he said in his sweet voice, his words still slightly lisped. “Pretty.”

His sister beamed at him, her little hands clapping in delight as she reached up to touch the flower in her hair. Daeron’s smile widened, and he began to hum a tune—one of the lullabies he had heard their mother sing. His voice was soft and uncertain, but the simple melody seemed to enchant his sister, who watched him with adoration in her eyes.

Meanwhile, back in the nursery, Aegon and Aemond’s argument had finally come to an abrupt halt when they realized their sister was nowhere to be found.

“Where is she?!” Aegon asked, his voice tinged with panic as he looked around the empty room.

Aemond’s face had gone pale, his one good eye wide with fear. “She’s gone!” he cried, the beginnings of tears forming in his eyes. “We lost her!”

The two brothers tore through the Red Keep in a frantic search, their hearts pounding in their chests. Servants were questioned, corridors were scoured, and they even checked behind the curtains in every room. But there was no sign of their sister.

Finally, they reached the garden, bursting through the door with wild, desperate energy. Aegon was ready to yell out for help, his voice rising in a cry that was sure to bring the whole Keep running, when he suddenly stopped short.

There, nestled between the rose bushes, was their baby sister, sitting comfortably in Daeron’s lap. The tiny boy was still humming his lullaby, his chubby fingers gently combing through her silver hair as she gazed up at him with adoration. And then, to the utter shock of Aegon and Aemond, she leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on Daeron’s lips, her expression filled with innocent affection.

Daeron giggled, delighted by the kiss, and wrapped his little arms around her in a tight hug. She responded by snuggling into his neck, hiding her face shyly as if to escape the world in the safety of her youngest brother’s embrace.

Aegon and Aemond stood frozen in place, their jaws dropping in unison. The jealousy that coursed through them was almost palpable, their earlier argument now seeming insignificant in the face of this new development.

“How did he—” Aegon started, his voice a mix of disbelief and frustration.

Aemond, still stunned, could only shake his head. “She kissed him,” he murmured, as if saying it aloud would make it any less unbelievable.

Daeron, completely aware of the turmoil he had caused, simply looked up at his older brothers with a straight face. “We playing,” he explained in his cold voice, as if he didn't wanted them here.

Finally, Aegon stepped forward, reaching out to take his sister from Daeron’s lap. “Come here,” he said softly, his voice gentler now as he lifted her into his arms. She looked up at him with those big, trusting eyes, and his heart melted all over again.

Aemond joined them, standing close as he reached out to stroke her hair, his earlier panic forgotten. “We were so worried about you,” he murmured, his voice filled with relief.

But their sister, still cuddled against Aegon’s chest, just giggled and reached back toward Daeron, making it clear she wanted to keep playing. Daeron, proud of his little adventure, stood up and toddled over to them, his smile as bright as the sun.

“She's mine,” he said, more sharp this time, and the two older boys couldn't help but be scared of his tone.

Part 1 ♡ Part 2

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

[xxnymeriatargaryenxx]

being aemond’s wife consists of sitting on his lap and stroking his hair while he comes up with battle strategies 💜

also — the way this chair is designed is kinda perfect for riding him…. dont you think?

[shuichiakainx]

🤟😂🖤

[alicesivory]

I was all over her.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female! reader

warnings: angst, sad Aemond, minor spoilers from hotd s2 ep 2, 3, and 4, not much smut but MDNI!!

WC: 4517

summary: when the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Don't know what I wanted, I have a memory

Throughout Aemond’s life, he remembers how much he wanted to be seen. 

By his father,

by his mother,

by his brother,

by the whole world.

He wasn’t the heir to the throne, he didn’t have a dragon like his brothers or sister. He was weak and nothing. He spend his days being teased and bullied relentlessly by his brother and nephews. They had venomous tongues and big sharp teeth. He hated the way he is.

But when the world turned their back on him, one person remained. 

She was a Tyrell, born not long after his mother gave birth to his youngest brother Daeron. His grandsire and mother are close to her parents since the Tyrells and Hightowers are two houses that are closely related. 

When he first met her back in oldtown, he saw her as a meek and shy young girl. He hated it. Because it reminded him of himself. But his hatred grew when he saw how well she gets along with Aegon, Daeron, even Helaena. Maybe he doesn’t hate her, maybe he just hates how he’s nothing like her. 

Likeable. 

Then it all changed in one summer evening. 

He was reading at the great library of oldtown, away from the world as he read about his great ancestors of old valyria and dragons. Dragons he longed to have. Like Aegon with sunfyre, Helaena with Dreamfyre, even Daeron with Tessarion. Then he heard a thud. 

Looking back from his seat, he saw no one was in the empty library but him. 

When he returned to his book, he heard another thud. 

Shutting the book with frustration, he began to look for the source of the sound that disturbed his peace. Walking deeper between old tall shelves, he took a turn to the left and saw…her.

Younger and smaller than him, but the Tyrell girl grunts as she climbs the bookshelf. Strong but mighty. The way her silly tongue sticks out as she’s so persistent to reach a book at the tallest shelf. He cleared his throat as he looked down, noticing many books had been scattered around the floor for her to climb.

She turned to him with a surprise stare.

“Prince Aemond!” 

As a child, she squeaks like a squirrel

Aemond thought to himself.

“What are you doing up there?” Aemond asks curiously. “I..I’ve been trying to reach that book!” She says as she still tries to reach the book at the highest shelf. 

“You will hurt yourself,” Young Aemond sighs. 

“Can you help me, my prince?” she asks as she jumps down from the shelf. 

“No-“

“Please!”

“Absolutely not-“

“You’re far much taller than me!” She says pointing at his height. 

Even as children, he has always been taller than her. 

Aemond sighs, knowing what he’s about to do. 

And he did it. 

Not for his own pride, but for her.

“Oh thank you!” She thanked him with a smile when he easily reached and took the book she’s looking for. The girl hugged the huge book in her arms. “It wasn’t a big deal, whatever,” Aemond says, acting nonchalant while he dusts off his clothes. “It is though, I wouldn’t have been able to reach that book if you weren’t here!” She says with a bright smile.

Heat rose up to his cheeks. No one ever ‘relied’ on him before. 

“Biarvose,” he muttered under his breath, not wanting her to know. But she heard him and tilted her head with curiosity. “Are you speaking high valyrian? It sounds lovely! Can you teach me?!” She asks cheerfully.

“What, no I’m not-“

“Please! I want to at least learn something new!” The girl says excitedly. Before he could answer, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to their seats in front of the fireplace. “I’m a fast learner, I promise!” She says as she sits down beside him with a smile.

Can’t believe he’s doing this.

But…it felt nice. The way she wanted him to teach her. She could’ve asked Aegon or Daeron…yet she chose him. 

“It’s…”

He mentioned her name. He liked how her name rolled off his tongue.

“…Tyrell, right?”

She nods. 

And since that day, and for the whole summer he taught her high valyrian in the library. Word by word, he was patient to teach her. He hates to admit it but she actually was a fast learner. 

She was his first true friend.

She was the first person who makes him feel like he has a purpose in life. 

Until they took his eye.

Just a year after he knew her, by the time he turned 10 he had claimed Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in Westeros. But for a price, which was his eye.

He became the same boy who hated the world. 

Never came back to oldtown or any places except the red keep. Afraid what the world might say about him. How ugly he looked with his scar, one of his eye missing, but most of all he was afraid of what SHE might say about him. Afraid of rejection, how she’ll stop spending time with him.

His thoughts were interrupted when his mother came inside his chambers. Bringing in the young Tyrell. 

“Aemond, she’s here to see you,” Alicent says, in a slight pleading tone. For he has shut himself out from the world when the maester stitched him. It hurts and it will hurt even more if he knew that all that people will see in him was a monster. 

“Go away,” he says coldly, his chair facing away from the door.

“Are you feeling any better?” Her sweet gentle voice asks as Alicent has her arm around the little girl.

Sometimes he just wants to run and hug her for comfort. For she was his escape from this cruel world. Her optimism makes him alive. He didn’t want to lose that.

“I said go away,” his hands gripped the arms of the chair.

“I brought you-,”

“I SAID GO AWAY!” He shrieks, stepping down from his chair and throwing his cup at her direction as he turns around, accidentally showing her his scar. His true self.

Alicent quickly tried to shield the young girl as she screamed. Shielding her from him.

From him.

“Aemond!” Alicent scolded her son. 

Yet his mother’s scolding didn’t matter to him. He saw his friend’s…his only friend terrified expression. He scared her. He hurt her. Just like how the world hurt him.

He took a step back. 

“I…I’m sorry,” he says lowly before returning to his chair.

He wanted to cry. But it hurts if he does.

Then he heard slow and tiny footsteps.

And she…she placed a toy dragon at the table. As her hands tremble. 

“I carved Vhagar for you…father taught me how to carve.”

The young girl says bravely. Yet Aemond wasn’t brave enough to meet her eyes. Not after he hurt her. So he says nothing. 

“Get well soon, my prince,” she curtsied and hurriedly returned to the Queen. Leaving him alone in his cold and empty room. Only the sound of crackling fire filled the room. Aemond loved silence but this time…he hated it. 

So he reached out, taking the wooden figure of his dragon into his hands. And by the time Queen Alicent returned to his chambers, she found her son asleep in his chair.

Holding the little dragon in his hands, close to his chest.

-

Back at that party, I was all over her

The death of Prince Lucerys Velaryon was at his fault and he couldn’t deny it any more. 

Kinslayer. Thats what they call him now.

His betrothal to one of Borris Baratheon’s daughter came to an end once Vhagar snapped her sharp teeth onto Vermax’s body. No one wanted to marry a Kinslayer.

A crippled and a kinslayer. 

What a fucking combo. 

But he firmly believed that everything that has happened to him was meant to be. Because if it weren’t for it, he wouldn’t be shaped as he is now. And he has to be better. Every sword training, every lessons, and at every war..he must be the best.

But that little boy inside of him still clings onto him till this very day.

Especially when his mother mentioned her name.

For he shall now marry her to strengthen the allieagance between their house and the Tyrells. They needed this. And he shall do it for them. 

He convinced himself it wasn’t personal and he doesn’t wish to meet her and just arrange the marriage ceremony. Secretly afraid for what she’ll think of him now.

A kinslayer, a cripple…a monster.

For they have not met again since that very night in his chambers. 

And when he saw her gain at the grand sept for their wedding, may the gods help him. 

She has grown into a woman. Not a young child anymore. 

She smiled to her family, giving them a nervous thin smile. 

Does he makes her nervous?

Does he scare her?

The ceremony was done in the sept. Not a grand wedding like any royal ceremony would be for they are at war and it’s ignorant if they host a grand wedding in the midst at war.

He couldn’t help but to stare how different she is now. How reserved and mature her body language is as she gracefully walks around with her long dress dragging through the cold stones of the sept. She was…beautiful.

“My prince,” she says as she curtsied. Even her voice has changed. Now it felt as if honey were dripping down her tongue.

“My Lady,” he greets back stoically. Not wanting her or anyone to read his mind. 

“How are you, my prince?” she whispers as the ceremony begins. Still making small talk as always, yet he yearns for it. He’s deeply grateful that she still wants to talk to him. Yet it has been awhile since he properly talked to her, it made him nervous. “I am well,” he whispers back. His healthy eye looked into hers as they were pronounced husband and wife. He finds nothing but nostalgia in her eyes. She is just how he remembered her.

-

We didn't make out or do anything

I just remember I was lonely

He didn’t like the idea of a bedding ceremony.

Where people would see him…and her.

It’s unnatural…and unfitting. 

So he ordered for the bedding ceremony not to be done. But he promised that he shall take her that night and they can inspect the bedsheets in the morning.

When he stepped into her chambers, he found her anxiously standing beside the bed. A weird tense atmosphere swept the room. 

“I..,” she wants to speak.

“I would like to say thank you for…not letting the bedding ceremony to happen-“

What is this? Does she not want everyone to see us together?

His anxious mind and overthinking took power over him.

“Who said it was done for you?” He snapped at her as he closed the door. 

Shit. He did it again.

And she was quiet once more.

I scared her again.

“But…still…I still want to thank you…my pr-“

“Husband,” he sternly says walking past her.

“Pardon?” 

He took a jug filled with wine and poured it onto his empty cup. He at least needed a cup of wine if he wanted to bed her right.

“I am your husband now, am I not?” He asks, not looking at her. 

“Oh yes…husband,” she says with a nod, fiddling her skirt.

Aemond turned around and took off his attire and was left with his tunic, yet she just stood there beside the bed, not being able to move. 

She was nervous.

He looked at her, unsure what he should do. Should he comfort her? Should he take her quickly so they didn’t have to endure this pain together? No- no no no he didn’t want to hurt her.

Then he saw her slowly opening her nightgown. Her hands trembling like when he hurt her as a child. She slips her nightgown over his chest-.

It’s been awhile since he saw a woman’s body.

The last time was…..was…

“Stop.”

She curiously looked up to him, only halfway through from being naked. “I-is there something wrong?-.”

“No,” he quickly answered, looking down with shame.

Yes. There is something wrong.

When Aegon took him to that brothel…at the age of 13..he…he couldn’t- it scarred him. 

She’s not like them. She’s not like that whore.

It’s only her, it’s just her!

His mind battling inside his head as he stood at the other side of the bed. He blamed Aegon for ruining something that should be meaningful for a man and woman. Ruining something that should’ve been meaningful for him and her. He blamed the brothel, he blamed his brother, and foremost he blamed himself. 

He can’t bed her.

Not like this.

“We must…do our duty,” he says, trying to mask his insecurity and vulnerability in front of her. Trying to mask the same 13 year old boy who was terrified when he stepped into the brothel for the first time. 

He didn’t dare to look up. He didn’t want to see her being disgusted by hi-

“Yet you don’t want to,” her voice was gentle and kind. Not a hint of mockery at sight. 

“I-“

“I don’t want to do this either.”

He looks up, finding her shielding her chest with her nightgown. That sight aroused him terribly. He wanted to touch her, wanted to make her happy and satisfied. He wanted to make her smile. Yet he saw the same little girl that admired him as a child. He didn’t want to fuck her, he wanted to make love with her. 

But he didn’t know how to.

So he just…stood there. The two of them stood there and said nothing. 

Just as he thought all hope was lost, she puts on her nightgown and stepped away from the bed. 

She’s leaving.

She’s disgusted by me.

“What are you-.”

She took a butter knife and roughly slits her palm, letting blood drip to the bed. 

He stared at her.

“There. They’ll think I lost my maidenhead,” she says with a little smile plastered on her face. “No one will know.”

His eye drifts into her still bleeding palm. He groaned walking towards her, ripping a cloth and wrapped her bleeding palm with it. “Mittys,” he muttered under his breath. She chuckles, “You haven’t taught me that word yet.” 

And for the first time in a lifetime, a genuine amused smirk was plastered across his face. “Stay still,” he ordered, tightening the cloth on her palm. 

When he was done, she gazed up at him for a moment. “How long has it been?” She suddenly asked. “I have not been counting,” Aemond replied, still holding her scarred hand. She slowly then pulled him to bed, sitting down. “You must stay for awhile. Or else they’d be suspicious.” 

Gods be good.

She was too kind for him. 

And he joined her, laying on the bed side by side. He wonders if she’s still afraid of him as their hands brushed against each other. He never realized how much he craved for her touch. Wondering what it feels like to be held by her. Would she be gentle? Or would she push him away? 

“Usōven,” he muttered, looking at her. Apologizing for that night.

She turned her head to look at him. And smiled.

“I forgive you.”

-

I guess I am always, it's not a problem

It's just something, I got used to it

It got worse.

His yearning for her.

He was afraid to touch her, for he did not want to touch her like a whore. She was his equal. He didn’t want to hurt her.

So he lets all of his frustration to Madame Sylvie. He was attached to her even before his wife returned to his life, yet her presence made him worse. With the war…and his guilt for the death of Lucerys…and now the presence of her…it frustrates him. Every single time he fucks that whore, he thinks of her. He imagined that it was her in bed.

Imagined that it was her holding him.

At Least he could keep her safe from him.

He didn’t mean for it to happen. He never meant for it to happen in the first place.

But when he returned from his sins back to his sacred sanctuary, he finds nothing but horror in the keep.

They murdered his nephew. 

Prince Jaehaerys. 

A son for a son.

It was his fault his nephews were dead. 

It was supposed to be him who’s dead. Whose head should be beheaded. Not his nephew. Not anyone. 

After inspecting his chambers, he rushed to his wife’s room. Finding her in bed, holding Helaena and Jaehaera as the three girls cried. He saw how terrified the three of them were, but he noticed how she cradled his sister and his niece. Whispering nothing but reassurance to them. “It’s okay, they’re gone now…you’re both safe,” he heard her. She has always taken care of Helaena and the kids well. 

Noticing his presence, his wife looked up, finding him unable to move from the doorway. She lets go of her grieving sister in law and niece as she walks to him. Her eyes were teary and red. 

Oh how he hates to see her cry.

He looks down at her, cupping her cheek with one hand.

“Where were you?” Her question rang through his ear as her voice cracked on the last word she spoke. Guilt consumed him- no. Guilt starts to eat him slowly but surely. Eating him alive as her wife, her sister, his niece, and his brother grieve for the death of the young innocent prince. He couldn’t say a word, instead hugging his wife tight as she cried into his chest. Sobbing loudly as the castle was filled with darkness. Not a light of hope in sight.

“No one will hurt you. I swear it to you. I’m here..i’m here,” he whispers to his wife as she cried.

He might’ve gotten used to the pain people put on him, but he realized that he would never ever get used to seeing her cry. 

He would never let anyone hurt her.

He would protect her from the cruel world.

Even from himself.

-

Every stranger makes me feel safer

And every person seems more beautiful

“I do regret that business with Luke, I lost my temper that day. I am sorry for it.”

“They used to tease me, y’know? Because I was different.”

He knew he should be seeking comfort from his wife, but he couldn’t. As much as she makes him feel like him…he was still afraid his wife would see right through him. To judge him. So he couldn’t. Not to her. 

He feels safer in the arms of a whore, who has no power over him. While his wife, she had all the power to control him if she could. 

Nights went on and he sneaked out secretly. And no one knew. He was safe. His secret was safe.

Until Aegon…had to ruin everything like he always did.

Humiliating him was always his brother’s hobby.

Blinded with anger, he stomps and storms back to the keep. Wanting his brother and the world to disappear. He wanted to be alone. He hated everything. Yet he didn’t realize that a certain someone was still awake.

Closing Helaena’s bedroom door, lady Tyrell exits the queen’s bedroom for Helaena finds comfort from her sister in law. Just as she wanted to call it a night, she’s standing face to face with no other than her husband.

“Aemond,” she says in surprise.

He froze. He didn’t know what to say. All the rage and humiliation were gone in an instant. His face was covered with guilt and fear. “Wife,” he answered with a hint of anxiety dripping down his tongue.

“Where have you been?” She chuckled, thinking that he was just out for a walk or something. In her mind, she would never ever even think that Aemond would be doing things like that behind her back. 

Aemond stiffened, unable to answer. Before his brother always had to ruin the show.

“Look who it is!” Aegon says as his kingsguard follows behind him. “Your husband here…well, how do I say it..ah yes, was in the whore house, dear sister,” Aegon cackles, nudging Aemond’s arm before earning a hard punch from Aemond. 

He saw red. He saw red in his eyes. He hated his brother. He hates him. He should’ve shut up. He never should’ve brought him to that place in the first place, he should’ve never returned to that place!-

“What..?” His wife’s voice slightly trembled.

Even when Aegon was in pain on the ground, he cackled. Obviously still drunk. “You heard me! He was fucking that whore like a hound!” Aegon continues to say and starts to make howling sounds. 

Aemond saw how she started to grip her nightgown, her hands trembling. Her eyes were teary, not wanting to cry.

He disappointed her.

Disappointing the only person who has faith in him.

“I…I must go…sleep well your grace and….husband,” she says nervously as she curtsied at the two brothers before walking away. 

He watched her walk away. Not daring to chase after her or call out her name. He wouldn’t dare, for he knew he disappointed her deeply. He hurt her again. Like how he did as a child. And now he’s sure she won't come back to him. This was the start of him losing her.

-

She hasn't talked to him since then. What used to be civil and peaceful. Her small talks and smiles weren’t present at his presence. She avoided him at all times. To the point where enough was enough. He couldn’t live like this. He needed her to talk to him. He doesn’t want his marriage to end like his father and his mother. He cares for her…he…he…he loves her.

And when he blinks, he finds himself standing in front of her chamber doors one morning. 

He knocked gently.

“Come in,” he heard her sweet voice that he missed from her room. 

When he enters, he received her sad and surprised expression.

“Husband,” she greeted stoically, looking away.

He then realized how her closet was wide open and empty. Her clothes scattered on the bed as he saw her stuffing her dresses onto her..

“What’s this?!” He protested.

“Mother said it’s not safe for me to be in kings landing. War is coming and…I must go home,” she says in a sad tone.

His heart sank deep hearing her words.

She’s leaving.

She’s leaving him.

“You are not going anywhere,” he insisted, roughly taking dresses out of her hands. 

“Aemond-“

“Not on my sight!-“

“But Aemond-!”

“You are safe here! With me! With Vhagar!” He exclaims roughly, taking out of her dresses from her trunk. 

“Aemond, stop it!”

Yet Aemond does not answer. 

“I will keep you safe. Vhagar will keep you safe, no one will never hurt you-“

“But you did!”

Silence.

Gods, he hated the silence between them.

“You don’t understand,” he grunts as he grips the bedsheets. “How can I understand if you never let me in?!” She protested, tears streaming down from her eyes. He doesn’t even want to look at her. He didn’t want to see her cry.

“See? You wouldn’t even look at me! You wouldn’t touch me, you wouldn’t kiss me, you…,” she points out. 

Aemond sighs in defeat. 

It was all his fault.

But then he roughly took off his eyepatch, towering over her, gripping her wrist as he showed his sapphire eye to her. “And would you? Would you touch this monster, hm? Kiss this husband of yours who’s the reason why two innocent boys are killed? The reason why this war STARTED IN THE FIRST PLACE?!” 

She flinched.

She closed her eyes, scared…waiting for him to do something to her.

It broke him. 

“I…I..forgive me, I..,” Aemond lowers down his voice and hand, releasing her. Now guilt and shame has finally eaten him whole. He hurt her. Again and again. She deserved better. 

Then came a knock on the door.

“Sorry for interrupting, my prince but..the council awaits your presence,” A guard said to him.

“I’ll be there.”

-

Aemond took his time and walked out of her chambers with her as her trunks were carried out from her room. It was present how there’s a gap between them. He wanted to hold her hand terribly, but he couldn’t. Not after what he did to her.

He felt how people were looking. Eyes on them as they walked through the halls of the red keep. He tried one more time to reach his pinky finger to hers but when they touched, she pulled her hand away to rub her other arm. 

He lost her.

He probably never had her in the first place.

When they reached her carriage, he didn’t want to tear his eyes from her. 

“I would, y’know?” She suddenly says with her gentle voice.

“Pardon?”

“I would…kiss and touch you,” she repeats. “The monster you said of…is still my husband. You’re still my husband,” she emphasizes.

Her words touched him somewhere in the deepest parts of his heart that no one has touched before. It made him frozen and unable to move a single muscle or bone in his body.

“I know that I am not what you needed, and I know that I’m nothing to you-.”

She was terribly wrong. How wrong she was. She meant the world to him.

She was…everything to him.

“I hope you will find what you’re looking for in the future.”

He didn’t want anyone but her.

They looked back and saw people watching.

They’re waiting.

They’re watching.

She has always been far much braver than him. So she walked back to him, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek, just beneath his eye patch. Beneath his scar. 

“Geros ilas, my love…avy jorrāelan,” she whispered to him before pulling away and stepping into her carriage without looking back.

And little did Aemond know, that will be the last time he would ever get to see her. 

In his heart, he blamed the world again. 

He blamed his brother.

He blamed everyone and everything that took her away from him.

Maybe in another life, the war wouldn’t have happened, Aegon wouldn’t have took him to the brothel, Lucerys didn’t take his eye, and maybe.. he could hold her like a normal person would. Maybe they’d have children…and maybe…maybe she’d stay. 

But right now, he walks back to the keep to assemble their army. To rook’s rest. To prove his brother and the whole world. To win this war.

For her. 

a/n: Hello everyone! I’m Alice and thank you so much for reading! Fyi I used to write on tumblr but my old account was like semi suspended? Idk I couldn’t interact with people, I couldn’t comment on people’s post so now I’m here and uhh hi🥹I hope you enjoy this one shot and I’m only gonna write fics mainly about the Ewanverse so you’re in for a ride🫶🏻🤗 I’m gonna write more in the future and thank you for sticking around until the end of this fic! Thank you once againnn💞💞

[be-xkyy]

𝑌𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐴𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑛 𝐼𝐼 𝑇𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑎𝑟𝑦𝑒𝑛 𝑥 𝑃𝑟𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

Warning: sexual content, manipulation, prostitution, infidelity, infant death (jaehaerys), captivity, isolation, pregnancy, possessive Aegon, basically Reader's plan went wrong.

Tagging list: @kthehoeforfictionalmen ★ @dreamlessnight ★ @riawrld ★ @darkuni63 ★

ᴸⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ˡᵉᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳ�� ²‧

Part 2

You met Aegon when he started frequenting the brothel you worked at.

When you first saw him you thought he was handsome but what caught your attention most was his white hair.

A Targaryen. That's what he was, basically a gold mine with legs, you'd met a Targaryen before, specifically Daemon Targaryen, but this one didn't look like Daemon.

But even if this guy wasn't Daemon Targaryen, he would still be of some use. You went to investigate who he was with other prostitutes and you discovered him: Aegon Targaryen, the king's eldest son. Interesting.

You've heard about him before. The unelected "heir" to the throne, displaced in the name of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the king's firstborn, and you've also heard that he's a drunk and an unfaithful person.

That was sad for his wife but a blessing for you, a blessing you would gladly accept. That night you used your best seduction tricks to win his attention and get him into your bed. And it was a success.

It wasn't very difficult to convince him, in fact it was too easy, you just had to show a little skin and whisper sensually in his ear everything you wanted to do to him and he fell at your feet. Much to the displeasure of the other girls, but hey, it's not your fault that you're the most beautiful one in the place.

You took his hand and led him to your private chambers. When he entered you pushed him onto the bed and he made himself comfortable against the headboard looking at you while you released the lace of your dress that gathered at your feet, his eyes shining with desire looked at your naked body without shame, you walked slowly towards him like a feline before crawling and sitting on top of his hard member.

"Your Highness is very excited, all this because of me?"

You ask with a low purr as you move your hips deliciously over his hardened member against the fabric of his pants. He looks at you with eyes clouded by alcohol and desire, his hands grab your hips making you rub even more against his hardness.

"If you look at how hard you made me, take responsibility for this."

You waste no time as you quickly unbutton his pants and his cock stands proud as I slide his pants down his legs tossing them to the side, I quickly turn my attention back to him, my soft hands gripping his hard cock pressing and rubbing up and down I take a moment to admire the expanse of pale skin and the white hair at the base.

He has his eyes closed and from the sighs he lets out he's clearly enjoying this, I lick my lips and settle on top of him again guiding his cock into my wet pussy, the head makes its way into my folds sliding inside until I'm sitting on top of him with his cock deep inside me, he opens his eyes as I place his hands on my ass.

"You feel really good, pretty tight for a whore."

"You flatter me, Your Highness"

Your voice is a low purr even though you want to hit him for saying that to you, you begin to move your hips using your legs to bounce up and down on his cock, his hands squeeze the globes of your ass and you grab his cheeks joining his lips with yours in a lustful kiss.

You break the kiss and you're both in a frenzy, he uses his hands to move you more vigorously on top of him clearly seeking his own orgasm and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes, your orgasm building inside of you and you can feel his cock throbbing inside of you, you trail kisses down his jaw as your orgasm hits you followed by his and you feel his warm cum filling you.

He leans back exhausted and satisfied on the pillows still buried in you, you leave kisses along his jaw again and put your fingers in his hair making him close his eyes at the touch, you couldn't help but notice that he seems to like it a lot.

When he leaves he leaves you a bag of gold with the promise of returning soon and you smile happily at him, when you are finally alone you have someone bring you a cup of moon tea and you drink it all, even if he is your gold mine you are not going to have his bastard.

These encounters become a regular occurrence, long nights of wine, sex, and your adoration of Aegon, as it was obvious that he was seeking approval, which you gave him. Unbeknownst to you, Aegon's obsession with you began to grow. Only you didn't judge him or despise him; you loved and saw the real HIM.

Aegon was becoming more monopolistic over time not wanting you to be with any man or woman other than him, you foolishly took that as a sign that his love for you was solidifying and you would soon be able to achieve your goals. Not realizing that his true feelings were something much more dangerous.

One day after one of your encounters while he was lying on top of you with his head on your tits and you were caressing his white hair, you told him that you wanted to be a rich woman someday and be able to live in peace and luxury far from brothels. You tried to move his heart so that he would give you some title, some land and gold, you know, so you could live a full life.

"When my sister ascends the throne, I will ask her for gold to go to Essos. I'm sure everyone will be happy that I'm away. When that happens, I'll take you with me."

"That sounds like a good idea, Your Highness."

You were looking forward to that, you would take the gold and go to Essos, of course you would leave Aegon although it is somewhat fun his jealousy and possessiveness are starting to tire you out and you can't imagine yourself with him in the long term.

What you didn't know at the time was that Aegon, not Rhaenyra, would ascend to the throne, and that your dreams of freedom would be shattered...

ᴸⁱᵏᵉˢ ᵃʳᵉ ᵃᵖᵖʳᵉᶜⁱᵃᵗᵉᵈ ᵃˢ ⁱᵗ ˡᵉᵗˢ ʸᵒᵘ ᵏⁿᵒʷ ⁱᶠ ʸᵒᵘ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵃ ᵖᵃʳᵗ ²‧

[venusbyline]

Revenge ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 30, oct.

(late post)

— pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader x Aegon II Targaryen

— type: smut, dark, Kinktober (House of the Dragon Edition)

— kink: mirror sex

— summary: Aegon wants to please you, his niece and betrothed, during the night of your nineteenth name day. However, everything goes wrong when you reject Aegon's touch and he decides to try to make amends with Aemond, letting the younger prince take revenge on your brothers in the worst way possible.

— word count: 4.0k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 30th day, female!reader, dark!Aegon, dark!Aemond, Jacaerys' twin sister!reader, betrothed!Aegon, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT (i'm not kidding, this is REALLY disgusting), rape/non-con, mirror sex, Targcest (uncles/niece), degradation, non-consensual somnophilia, vaginal sex, rough sex, breeding kink, blood and violence, squirting, overstimulation, forced orgasm, dacryphilia, crying, dumbification, vaginal fingering, unconscious sex, fainting/collapsing, forced pregnancy, cum eating, cum swallowing, blood licking, sexism, age gap (older men/younger woman), marriage of convenience, ambiguous/open ending, implied/referenced cheating, face slapping, hair-pulling, sadism, revenge sex, threats of death, emotional manipulation, book accurate ages (It's 133 AC. Reader's 19, Aemond's 23, Aegon's 26, Jacaerys' 19, Lucerys' 18, Joffrey's 16), referenced Targaryen-Velaryon Incest (sister/brothers), referenced consensual underage sex, minor Velaryon brothers/reader, implied Aemond Targaryen/Helaena Targaryen, bisexual(?)!Aemond, bisexual(?)!Aegon, minor Aemond Targaryen/Aegon Targaryen, Aegond, dark content, dom!Aemond, switch!Aegon, sub!reader, canon divergence (No Dance of the Dragons/War for Succession), porn with plot. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @baybaybear1 @blessedbymoon @p45510n4f4shi0n @lina-lovebug @moonnicole @badger-reads @dearjardim

— author's notes: It's MENTIONED during the fic that Aegon's obsession with the reader has been going on since before the night in Driftmark, 120 AC. So at that time, you would be 6 years old and Aegon would be 13/14. Although this is just a MENTION of Aegon's dark desires and isn't graphic at all, it's important that you understand about the Dead Dove: Do Not Eat tag and read all trigger warnings. This is just a FANFICTION, but Aegon's thoughts are disgusting anyway.

— crossposting: AO3

Aegon II Targaryen had been quite impulsive when choosing the woman he would marry. He knew that getting betrothed to his niece, Jacaerys's twin sister, would not be an idea well received by his family, especially by his mother and his younger brother, Aemond, but he decided to act on that decision without thinking too much about the possible consequences.

His obsession with you, the only daughter of his half-sister, Rhaenyra, was almost unhealthy. Aegon has watched you grow, just as he has watched Jacaerys and Lucerys grow. He liked to see you trying to keep up with them when the three boys got together to play some trick on Aemond. They never let you spend much time with them, and Aegon even made fun of you, just like he did with Aemond.

At that time, Aegon did not know how to deal with the intense feelings he felt about you, finding it disgusting that he was much older than you. Gods, you were younger even than Aemond. He really could not deal with those thoughts, and venting about them to someone would be a bad idea. He would probably get a beating from Harwin Strong — the man all people of King's Landing knew was your true father — when the knight was still alive.

Trying to keep you far away, Aegon chose making you a butt of jokes. Jacaerys and Lucerys never seemed to notice how Aegon really felt about their sister and even liked to have fun at your expense.

As the years passed, the family had grown apart. The fight involving Aemond against Lucerys, Jacaerys and Daemon's daughters parted the Targaryen family into two sides. Despite always being a terrible older brother, Aegon had tried to make it up to Aemond after he lost his eye. He did not like to admit that he blamed himself a little for what happened. However, the thought occurred to him with a damn frequency. If Aegon had not been drinking like an asshole that night, perhaps he could have defended his brother.

He wanted to be a better brother to Aemond, he really tried to be, but nothing seemed to be enough for the younger prince. Nothing seemed to make him happy. Not even when Aegon took Aemond, who was still ten and three years old, to a brothel and introduced him to Madam Sylvi. Aegon thought his brother would like to become a complete man and he would like to get his cock wet. But he was definitely wrong.

He could remember with anguish how Aemond opened the curtains and walked out into the halls of the brothel after the act. Aegon tried to ask him how the sex had been, if he had liked it... But all Aemond did was give him a cold and hurt look, replacing his eye patch and continuing to walk so both of them could leave soon.

When Aegon returned to the brothel the next week, he asked Madam Sylvi about Aemond performance and expected a naughty response from the whore. Anyway, hearing the phrase "He is not a child now" clearly did not sound as sensual as he imagined. He needed to drink a little more to avoid wanting to cry when he realized that in fact Aemond was no longer a child. He had taken that away from his brother when he convinced the younger to joined him to Street of Silk. Even after so many pranks, until that fateful day in Driftmark, Aemond still trusted his older brother. He was still an innocent child, with just one eye and his fierce Dragon.

And Aegon had destroyed the last vestige of innocence inside Aemond's heart. Aegon had ruined everything again, just as he had ruined everything every time he played tricks on you with your brothers and called you a fucking bastard the night Lucerys accidentally took out Aemond's eye during the childish and violent fight. You were not even there when all of that happened, but Aegon thought offending you would be like making up to Aemond for his absence and lack of protection.

Now, 133 AC, thirteen years after the family chaos in Driftmark, Aegon was trying to slowly restore some peace by proposing to his half-sister, Queen Rhaenyra, a betrothal to you. It was a way of seeking a truce between the grudge that Rhaenyra and Daemon held for Alicent and her children. And most important of all, it was a way to make amends with you and Aemond, even if his brother hated you.

"What do you think about your new necklace, my dear?" Aegon asked you after the festival in King's Landing to celebrate your and your twin brother Jacaerys' nineteenth year of life.

"It is very beautiful, uncle." You replied with a tense voice, observing yourself in the large mirror with golden edges in Aegon's private chambers.

You were not someone who liked breaking the rules, especially when they involved secret meetings with your uncle Aegon. You still harbored resentment for the way he started to mock your and your brothers' legitimacy after Rhaenyra and Alicent's complete estrangement. At first, you thought about denying his call for you to accompany him through the castle corridors, but the idea of receiving one more gift seemed tempting. And in fact, you did not regret. Actually, you were enchanted by the necklace with the pendant of a golden dragon with silver-toned wings.

"Do not call me uncle anymore, my dear. You are my future wife now." Aegon reminded you with a chuckle, standing behind you and watching as you admired the pendant. He could see the way you seemed to want to ask something and he knew exactly what it was. "Yeah, the dragon on the pendant was made especially to represent Vermithor."

He said and your eyes widened immediately. Just like Rhaena and Aemond, there was no dragon for you when you were born. You only managed to claim Vermithor four years ago, however, your bond with the elder dragon was already quite admirable. Vermithor was a fierce creature to everyone and he was like a puppy to you, so meek and docile that sometimes you found yourself venting alone to him. A habit that only increased even more after your mother confirming your betrothal with your uncle.

"This is... This is... This is incredible." Your eyes filling with tears. You lifted your face to observe Aegon's reflection behind you, his soft smile as he returned your gaze. "My most sincere thanks, Aegon. This is the kindest and sweetest gift I have ever received. I swear."

Aegon's cheeks flushed a little. He was not used to being kine or sweet. Much less listen someone calling him like that. Your thanks slightly caught him off guard and he cleared his throat, trying to hide his sudden nervousness, hoping you would not notice how sweaty and shaky his hands were when he placed them on your shoulders, a little taller than you while you were still watching each other in the mirror. "You look so fucking delightful right now."

He purred into your earlobe. The warm air and the smell of wine made you frown and step back. You were not used to being touched like this by men who were not your brothers and you did not feel comfortable with Aegon's sudden physical proximity. Of course he was your fiance and very soon you would be forced to consummate the marriage, but there were still many barriers between the two of you. Barriers he built to keep you away when you were a child and now he was determined to break them at any cost.

"Do not do that again." Aegon scolded you, fire coursing through his veins at your abrupt departure. He hated that you were acting like you were disgusted by him. Damn, he was trying to be good, was not he? He was being a good betrothed and redeeming himself with you. "I gave you a fucking gift you loved!"

You flinched at his loud husky voice, stopping just looking at him in the mirror and turning to him, the size difference not being as intimidating as it was when you were still a little girl seeking approval from your uncle and your brothers. He did not even have the same long hair as before. Now, Aegon kept his dry silver hair to a medium length, giving him an appearance of lack of care, as well as the intense dark circles under his eyes. Even though you would never admit it, you feared him but also you thought he was very handsome at the same time. Like your child version also thought these same things about Aegon when he was a teenager.

"And I already thanked you for it. However, I do not remember allowing you to touch me the way you just did."

"Seven Hells, do not be an annoying prude! I just rested my hands on your shoulder."

"And purred in my ear like a cat in heat, surely thinking I would give in to you so easily and we would sleep together before our wedding ceremony!" You exclaimed, without thinking straight. Your heartbeat was racing, your face red with anger that he had the audacity to call you an annoying prude.

Aegon growled at your words, moving closer to your body, until your faces were practically glued together and you could smell the wine he had been drinking throughout the festival, just as he could smell flowers fragrance coming from you. The tension was palpable, both of you staring at each other with anger in your eyes. It was like flames burning each other just with gazes.

You thought he would yell at you or at most throw you out of his chambers and take the gift back. You expected many things, except Aegon to abruptly cover your mouth, holding the back of your head with his other hand to stop you from struggling and running away.

"Perhaps, you bastard bitch, I am acting like a cat in heat because I know what a cheap whore you are." Aegon growled one more time, the fingers that had been holding the back of your neck now gripping your hair. "You always act like you are a maiden, but all people of King's Landing is already suspicious about how your cunt has already been filled several times by your twin brother. Jacaerys seemed quite furious when my betrothal with you was made official."

Aegon pushed you onto his large bed and you immediately tried to get up and scream, being stopped by the hard slap he gave you in the face, making you fall back onto his sheets, terrified as he climbed on top of you, holding both of your arms on top of your head. "If you try to do that fucking shit again, I am going to rip your fucking head off and gut you until you die. Our entire family is going to go to war and blood is going to be spilled because you are still the same spoiled bastard who cried and wanted to fit in with me when we were younger."

Something made you stop fighting against the situation. Perhaps it was your childhood memories of seeking approval from Aegon, Jace and Luke. Perhaps it was the threat of more chaos happening in your family if Aegon killed you. Perhaps it was all the alcohol you happily drank during your and Jace's name day celebration. Perhaps it was because you already knew that Aegon would rape you anyway if he was determined to do so. Perhaps it was all of that. You simply stopped, sobbing a few times before shaking your head.

"Good girl..." Aegon chuckled at your submissive reaction. "Just look at the ceiling, alright? I promise it will be good."

You did not know what Aegon meant, only understanding when you obeyed. Looking up at the ceiling, you saw that there was a large mirror placed there. You could watch yourself lying in bed, your face soaked with tears, your hair disheveled and your hands being held above your head. You had never been so shocked due a reflection. It was a clear sample of Aegon's obsession, firm fingers holding your wrists in the way he wanted, while his other hand simply hiked up your nightgown, taking advantage of your lack of reaction to take off and throw your underwear on the floor. Aegon was about to take off the tunic he was wearing, before being interrupted by the door opening and then closing.

"Am I interrupting something, brother? One of your guards said you demanded my presence here. I was busy and could not arrive at the ordered time." Aemond's cold voice echoed through Aegon's chambers and your eyes widened. You looked away from your reflection for a while, barely feeling Aegon fingering your slightly wet folds. You were incredulous at the fact that Aemond was so nonchalant with the sight of his older brother about to rape their niece. You could not tell if it was simply because Aegon often did atrocities like this or if it was also because Aemond had hated you since both of you were kids and he was not at all pleased with his brother's obsession with marrying you.

"Oh, busy with Helaena, I must assume." Aegon teased his brother and Aemond rolled his eyes, clearing his throat and pointing to the scene in front of him.

"May I know why my presence here is necessary?" The youngest asked and a moan escaped your lips when Aegon stuck two fingers inside you at once, drawing your attention back to him. Aegon raised his eyebrow as he noticed how, despite the painful and abrupt intrusion, your little cunt accepted his fingers without much difficulty, which meant not only that you were no longer a maiden, but that you had also fucked with someone recently and completely ignored your future marriage with your uncle.

"Looks like you were not the only person to fuck with your own sister today, brother."

Aemond could not help but smirk, tilting his head in mockery when he saw Aegon took his fingers out of you and shake your wetness away, almost as if he was disgusted. "Who would have thought that the rumors about her and Jacaerys were true..." The prince mocked, approaching the bed and making you flinched your body into the mattress. "Tell me, dear niece and sister-in-law... Which of your Strong brothers has already fucked your dirty and disgusting cunt? Only Jacaerys? Or also Lucerys and Joffrey?"

You whimpered at the invasive and demeaning question, knowing you would be in danger if you revealed the true, but you would also be in danger if you lied. "Not Joffrey yet."

It was Aegon's turn to mock, with some irritation. "Joffrey's small cock has not gotten wet inside you yet, but I bet you at least taught him how to eat you out. After all, he is already ten and six. That is old enough." The stare Aegon received from Aemond made him swallow hard. It was clear that his younger brother still felt angry about what happened at the brothel when he was thirteen. "Well, I mean..."

Aemond ignored his brother's attempt to justify himself and looked back at you, his cold hand touching your warm core, enjoying your wetness and rubbing your pearl, eliciting confused and tearful moans, your mind trying to encourage you to scream and run far away of them and your body begging him to keep rubbing your clit. Perhaps a little stronger. Stronger enough to draw your blood. Jace, Luke and Joffrey were always too sweet to you. Too noble. "That does not matter. What matters is that you are nothing more than a hole for your brothers to use."

You swallowed hard, closing your eyes and letting the tears flow. When you turned your face away, Aemond's hand grabbed you by the chin, forcing you to pay attention to what he was saying. "Now I understand why my brother was obsessed with you when we were younger. You were always a cockslut, I bet."

His words sinked your heart and you shook your head, so fast that your vision even blurred. You wanted to deny it, say that you were nothing like that, say that Aegon had never been really obsessed with you. But nothing came out of your lips. Actually, your panicked mind was starting to make you believe that Aemond could be right about both things.

"Uhm, I still remember everything before that night in Driftmark... How you were always running after Aegon and your brothers, desperate to be seen... Just like how my brother was always pushing you away." He scoffed, gripping your chin tighter. "Probably because he felt sick about himself thinking those naughty things about you. After all, you were only six years old and he was almost ten and four. A drunk teenager wishing for such perverse things and—"

Aegon grimaced as Aemond spoke, clearly uncomfortable about having his dirty little secret exposed right in front of you. "That is enough, Aemond." The older man softly growled and Aemond frowned and let go of your chin abruptly, his thin lips pulled into a sarcastic smile.

"You still have not told me why you demanded my presence here, brother." The last word sounded bitter to the ears of the three of you and Aegon took a deep breath, determined to take control of the situation again. Or at least a little part of the control.

He pointed to you, lying on the bed with the legs open, your cunt now wetter and your face reddened from crying, the empty look in your eyes making it obvious how confused and vulnerable you were. The confused and vulnerable state that your own uncle and future husband had left you simply because you refused his touch.

Aemond did not seem at all bothered by what he was seeing. You did not notice any trace of desire coming from him either and if it were not for the way a slight bulge began to appear in his pants, you would even believe that the scorn and resentment he always felt for you was bigger than the anger and desire to get revenge on Jacaerys and Lucerys.

"Are you offering me our niece?"

The question was said without a hint of enthusiasm and Aegon laughed, knowing his brother well enough to know that he just wanted to maintain the typical facade of indifference. "Well... I wanted to give you and my betrothed a gift. I was going to suggest that the three of us have some fun tonight to celebrate her name day..." Aegon purred, his calloused fingers caressing your bare thigh. "However, due to her spoiled and thankless behavior, I wish you to take her first."

Aemond was surprised at first, his good eye switching between you and his brother. He had already imagined several possibilities to get revenge for the things his nephews did when they were all kids. He had even thought that your betrothal to Aegon was already a good form of revenge, despite hating his brother even more when he realized that he had never gotten over that ridiculous obsession with you.

Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey had been furious when they discovered that their mother had agreed to let Aegon marry you. They were scared of what would happen to you, neither of them ever believing Aegon's stupid explanation about a peace treaty.

Aemond knew that his nephews would be furious if they knew what he was about to do with you, just as he knew what Aegon wanted. Aemond was not dumb, he understood that Aegon blamed himself for the tragic events in his life. Aemond understood that Aegon blamed himself for taking away his chance to lose his virginity willingly and with someone he was really attracted to.

And then, Aegon was there, giving you to him like an apology. Also, he was giving Aemond the chance to take revenge on his nephews and take you before himself.

Aemond did not respond with words. Instead, he just pushed Aegon aside, taking his brother's place on the bed and starting to undo the ties of the tunic he was wearing.

With each brutal thrust from Aemond, a tearful scream from you resounded throughout the chambers, muffled by Aegon's large hand, who was sitting next to you, caressing your dark hair with his free fingers.

All of the three of you was admiring different points of the view reflected by the mirror on the ceiling. Aegon was focused on the sight of your little cunt, so tight and being brutally fucked by Aemond's thick and rosy cock. Aegon could hear the sudden noises caused each time Aemond's body hit yours hard, your wet core making it easier for your uncle and brother-in-law to fuck you rough and deep enough that the walls of your cunt began to feel so much sore.

Despite the blurred tear-filled vision, you stared at yourself in the reflection, your heart clenching with self-loathing as your muffled screams stopped being pleas for Aemond to stop hurting you and started becoming just loud whimpers about how you were cumming again. You had actually lost count of how many times you had cum around Aemond's cock. You had already lost count of how many times you had squirted and even lost consciousness for a few seconds.

You felt like you were about to die and all that kept you alive was Aegon's fingers stroking your hair like you were his precious doll and Aemond's seed filling you for the second time in the last hour. Aemond looked at his own reflection after cumming inside you, his Sapphire's eye shining in the mirror, as well as the sweaty skin of his chest. He felt powerful. He felt alive. And best of all, he finally felt the good but bitter taste of revenge.

You were almost sure that Aemond was determined to breed you. And you were almost sure that Aegon had allowed it, because even when his younger brother pulled his wet cock out of your sensitive and bruised hole, Aegon just waited for Aemond to start getting dressed to take his place, bending down in front of you and licking the mixture of blood and cum that dripped from your cunt, ignoring your tears and the forced submission coming from your trembling body.

"You are disgusting, Aegon." Aemond huffed after Aegon licked and sucked your clit until you were squirting on his face too, your weak whimpers making you look like a sad kitten. "You should stop. She will end up convulsing and dying if she cums again."

"Oh, but she wants to cum again. Do not you want that, my dear?" Aegon teased, rubbing your swollen reddened pearl. You shook your head, the confused movement seemed like a confirmation and a denial at the same time, which elicited a chuckle from your future husband. He turned to Aemond and pointed at you. "See? She is going to be a perfect wife. All it took was a cock and she is already completely stupid and brainless, like a real good wife should be."

"Uhm, I guess she is not a very strong girl." Aemond scoffed, the word Strong bringing you horrible memories and making you whimper and turn your face into the pillow, until you finally fell asleep while Aegon was still eating you out. "I am serious, brother. Let our whore niece sleep and get some rest." Aemond murmured a little impatiently, his eye scanning the Vermithor pendant of your new necklace and then to Aegon's lips, wet with your juices and creamy with the mess of your blood and Aemond's seed. "Just stop eating my seed. Your future wife will not get pregnant with my child if you keep being a greedy and needy slut, sucking out all my cum just for you."

Aegon's eyes widened, in disbelief at his brother's words, raising the head and being interrupted just as he was about to defend himself. "Besides, you are going to end up cumming in your own pants if you keep just watching everything and settling for scraps. Our niece's cunt is delightful, however, I will be waiting for you in my private chambers so you can continue apologizing to me, brother."

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Masterlist

|Aemond Targaryen x Niece!Reader| ft. Yandere Aegon and Alicent

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

"I have outlasted all desire,

My dreams and I have grown apart;

My grief alone is left entire,

The gleamings of an empty heart.

The storms of ruthless dispensation

Have struck my flowery garland numb,

I live in lonely desolation

And wonder when my end will come."

Chapter One: My Dream

Chapter Two: The Gods' Light

Chapter Three: The Long Night

Chapter Four: Before the Storm

Chapter Five: The Princess and the Queen

Chapter Six: Salt and Blood

Archmaester Gyldayn’s Testimonies of Princess Aelora Targaryen’s Youth

Chapter Seven: Ending Anew

Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides

Chapter Nine: Time Mends the Broken

Chapter Ten: The Weight of the Crown

Chapter Eleven: The Black Council

Chapter Twelve:

Chapter Thirteen:

Chapter Fourteen:

Chapter Fifteen:

Chapter Sixteen:

Chapter Seventeen:

Chapter Eighteen:

Chapter Nineteen:

Chapter Twenty:

Chapter Twenty-One:

Chapter Twenty-Two:

Chapter Twenty-Three:

Chapter: Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five:

Chapter Twenty-Six:

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Chapter Twenty-Eight:

Chapter Twenty-Nine:

Chapter Thirty:

Chapter Thirty-One:

Chapter Thirty-Two:

Chapter Thirty-Three:

Chapter Thirty-Four:

Chapter Thirty-Five:

Spotify Playlist

The reader does have a name (no use of it) for the sake of titles and the typical Targaryen/Strong features, but other than that, descriptions are vague.

All House of the Dragon/A Song of Ice and Fire warnings apply, but I will put specific ones with each chapter.

[councilofcastamere]

ADORNMENTS | AEMOND TARGARYEN X DAERON’S TWIN!READER

a b r i d g e m e n t : your older brother Aemond loves to shower you with gifts. one day, you’ll pay him back.

TW: smut, targcest, oral (f receiving) penetration, riding, missionary, childhood love,

A/N: reblogs but most of all comments are immensely appreciated!

Aemond couldn’t remember the day when you drew your first breath alongside your twin brother, Daeron. All he knows is that the Gods had shined light upon him that day.

He had gotten blessed with the only one that could have ever drawn his attention like it did.

Like you did.

4-year-old Aemond witnessed the sunlight shining upon your face as Queen Alicent flaunted you in her arms, Daeron held in the King’s arms.

Your laughs could only be translated into melodies as they entered the prince’s ears. Your skin was almost porcelain and your eyes were peacefully closed. You were wrapped around the purple blanket as if you were a present.

His thoughts felt overpowered by a desire to hold you. He climbed up next to his Queen Mother and tugged on your blanket, signalling to hold the new blessing that came into his life.

“Aemond wishes to hold his new sister,” Alicent remarked, smiling as she looked down upon him. She very carefully positioned you into his small arms, staying close as to keep an eye.

“A family man, he will be.” the king laughed, very carefully swinging Daeron in his arms.

Aemond, ignoring the speaking of his parents, wrapped his small arms around your small body, regarding you as if you were a gem to keep in his palm. He held you closer to his chest, and brought his lips to your forehead, before hesitantly returning you to your mother.

And as you turned older, you grew only closer to him. It was as if he were your shadow, and you were his. You would do everything together.

He was infatuated with you, always opting to bring you your favourite pieces of jewelry, your favourite silk dresses and your favourite flowers.

Eventually, you shared your first kiss with him.

It was the hour of the owl, and you were holding a candle to your chest, waiting for the prince to sneak into your chambers. Your hair was tied up into braids, which made for a beautiful updo.

“Sister.” you heard a voice. it was Aemond’s.

But it didn’t sound all too delighted.

“Aemond?” you ask softly, observing him sitting on the edge of your bed. “What happened?”

He didn’t wish to tell you, but your angelic voice compelled him as if he was answering the gods.

“…they gave me a pig.” he murmured, passionately angry. his fists clenched at his side and he didn’t dare look you in the eye.

You knew what he meant. You always pitied having him watch you ride starfyre. You only prayed he could get one of his own.

You crawled over to him, his back facing you. You delicately rested your chin on his shoulder, placing a kiss on his cheek.

“If a dragon doesn’t like you, I don’t like a dragon,” you murmured, whispering into his ear. “You over any dragon, big brother.”

Just then, his head turned to you. His eyes flickered from your eyes to your lips. You felt your throat go dry, and you liked the feeling. You liked having him look at you like that.

You closed your eyes, and the second you did, you felt his slightly chapped lips on yours. You savoured the feelings for a couple of seconds, before attempting to brush your hair out of your face. His hand eventually came up to your rosy cheeks, cupping at your jaw, while your hands settled themselves on top of his unoccupied hand.

You very gently pulled away, smiling at his lips.

From that day on, it was sealed.

He was infatuated with you, always opting to bring you your favourite jewelries, your favourite silk dresses and your favourite flowers.

You loved it, and as you blossomed into a woman of age, you remained appreciative of his efforts.

But you wanted more. You wondered if he loved you so much, why hasn’t he bedded you yet? It made you insecure. What if the kisses mean nothing, and he only sees you as a sister, not good enough to bed?

You didn’t wish to come to conclusions, or accuse him of anything, but you only prayed you were able to ask him without feeling humiliated.

After all, what if he felt pressured after you asked him, and it won’t be as good?

You wrote all of your concerns down on a small paper, your quill clumsily spilling over some of the characters. You carefully folded it into a heart and left it under your pillow.

Which was a mistake.

Imagine Aemond’s shock when he came into your chambers to place your newest present under your pillow, only to find the paper.

Imagine his guilt as he reads how his little dragon has been feeling neglected.

And imagine his lust at your words, having everything you wished he’d do to you written down on the little paper.

You were inexperienced and some of the things made no sense, sure, but he got the idea of what you wished for.

So he did the only thing he knew how to do. Wait for a better time. He carefully stuffed the paper back under your pillow, and the present back in his hand.

With a swift turn, he departed your chambers, his golden locks cascading behind him. He’d have to make you see his love, sooner or later.

And that evening, you did not notice anything amiss when you strolled inside, your handmaidens at your side.

You opted for a pretty green dress, your hair beautifully done into a loose braid. You wore your green earrings to match your gown. Your nails were washed and clipped thoroughly, and you insisted on a clean bath before all of it.

“I’ll speak to you later!” you called out to your handmaiden as she left you in privacy. you always knew where Aemond would be waiting for you. you loved times like these, where you could dress that gorgeously only to be with your pretty big brother in your chambers.

You quickly settled on your bed, reading a small book Aemond got you from the Vale about different mountains. Aemond always knew what you liked, to your delight. You’d even wondered if he had any hidden presents here.

Time felt like an eternity as you waited for Aemond, and you began to doubt his arrival. Your eyelids began to close but you were insistent on waiting some more moments.

You tried to, but your slumber overtook you, and you ultimately lost yourself to the night.

Only then had he come in.

You had drifted up to slumber, your beautiful gown lifted past your hips. Silly girl, he thought, watching your glistening cunt spread out into the cold air. Your beautiful eyes were closed, hair sprawled all through your silken pillows, and soft sighs leaving your lips.

You looked so beautiful, the true image of Valyrian beauty.

His footsteps just forced him to close the proximity. It was out of his control.

And as you lost yourself in slumber, you missed the way his hands slid up and down your beautiful legs, lifting one as he pressed a kiss to the heel of your foot.

No, that wasn't enough. A kiss on the ankle will do.

Perhaps a kiss on the calf.

And he couldn't make any excuses any more, his lips hastily trailing up to your upper thighs, his hands hastily thrown over his shoulders. His mouth pressed an open kiss to your cunt, losing himself in the heavenly taste of your confined flesh.

You shifted slightly, your beautiful back arching as you let out a sleepy moan. Poor girl, you probably thought it was a dream. A mere reflection of the desire that occupied your mind.

Aemond was well aware of your feelings. Your beautiful gaze always drifted onto him, sitting on his lap as he read you a book about Valyrian gods, his clothed cock rubbing against your pretty clothed cunt every time you tried to read for yourself.

So, who was he to not reward you for your patience? His tongue gently penetrated your hole, licking all around the throbbing beauty. Your beautiful lips made the sweet melodic noises he'd soon become addicted to, his tongue poking your hole faster, causing you to squirm and your hips to buck into his face.

"Ae-amond?" you groggily whispered, gasping at the sight of him between your legs, his lips glistening with your juices.

"Hush, sweet sister," he replied, kissing all around your thighs and the lips of your cunt. "It feels... pleasurable, does it not?"

All you could do was nod, too tired and too riled up to fight your common sense. You cracked a smile, your feet gently pulling him closer as he kept ravishing your swollen hole.

"Aemy.." you whisper, bucking your hips. "What if mother comes to bid me goodnight?"

He hummed, his tongue working on devouring your pink delight. His hands squeeze both of your thighs.

"How much I do not care," he uttered, a hand rising to grope your soft breast. "I could die a happy death in between these legs."

"But then you wouldn't see me again." you chuckled, bucking your hips into his face. his smirk widened as his one eye trained on yours as if it was a hypnosis.

you cried out as his tongue lapped at your folds, quickly flipping the two of you so you could do it at a pace of your own. your hands gripped the headboard, and you brought yourself to move your hips as if it were a swing.

his eye was still on yours, and under your folds, you could still feel his smirk.

"ae-aemy." you pant, moving your hips in a circular motion. "I-I..."

"I know, sweet sister," he replied, gently lifting you off him. you whined at the loss of proximity and felt the cold air on your bare skin. "The best thing hasn't happened yet, however."

you could only manage whines and moans as he guided you backwards, your cunt moving from his mouth to his cock. your hands held on to his shoulder, your thumbs slightly pressing into the sides of his neck. you felt the warmth of his hands on your hip.

"Careful..." he warned, slowly easing you down on his cock. you felt the thick length slowly opening up your virgin hole, your face red with unease.

his eye flickered up to you, and he let out a smirk as you attempted to sink to his cock, his tip kissing your cervix.

his hands slid up from your thighs to your round ass, firmly massaging the skin. you looked at him, and pressed your lips to his as you let the feeling sink in.

“Do I start to move?” you murmured against his lips, face uneasy with pain. “It hurts, Aemy.”

“I know, my sweet.” he whispered against your lips, lips trailing across your jaw. “It hurts for a maiden’s first time.”

You nodded, and could only bite your lip as you slowly moved up, with his hands shifting to your hips, massaging circles into them.

Aemond only wished he could take it faster, to finally feel himself marking your womb as his. He had loved you for years and absolutely hated the fact you did not feel loved. At the end of the night, he decided, you would feel loved.

You slowly moved yourself back down, and you winced in pain. You locked eyes with Aemond, only to find his eyes closed. He pulled your body down to press your lips against him, your moans of pain muffled.

Your agony slowly began to dissipate into pleasure, and you could feel the prince’s soft moans as he thrusts his hips up, filling you up. You moaned in pleasure as you bounced, your hands on his chest.

His veiny hands reached up to your hair, undoing the hair your handmaidens had spent an eternity on. It allowed for your beautiful locks to cascade down, covering your pink nipples.

“Aemy…” you moaned, breathless gasps leaving your mouth as his skin slapped against yours, your round breasts bouncing a sight for sore eyes. “I-I love you. Too much. Only y-you.”

His eye snapped open at that, and he quickly flipped you two over, towering over you. His lips marked your neck as you writhed and arched. His hands groped your breasts, moving your hair out of the way.

“Shh, sweetness,” he whispered, his nose brushing against yours. “I know. I know.”

His large girth split you in half and had you gripping the sheets, your legs widening even more open.

He could only let out moans and groans, concentrating on filling you and making you feel pleasure.

“One day, we will do this to bear children,” he tells you, kissing along the side of your face. “You will become my wife, and always stay at my side.”

You could only smile, rolling your hips up.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” he asked with a slight grin, kissing your chest and collarbone. “Waiting on me each day, each night. Wrapped in my sheets and eager to welcome me.”

You nodded eagerly, his hands pushing your knees to your chest. Your face was red, with tears streaming down your beautiful eyes.

You panted and kept panting as you felt a knot tighten up in your stomach. You breathed heavily, your walls clenching around his length.

“Aemy!” you cried out, thrown between the sheets as you wildly threw your head back, hips bucking ferociously against him.

You bit your lip, face red and teary as you came close, holding him closer to you.

“Let it out,” he murmured, nose rubbing against your neck. “Listen to me.”

You obliged, and as the knot in your stomach snapped, sticky white juices came sprawling out, clenching around and milking his meat.

His eye rolled back at the feeling, and he let out some more thrusts, before slowing down immensely and pulling out, frowning at the loss of proximity.

“Sit still,” he ordered, and you did as he asked, while you felt your chest being painted with his creamy juices.

“Now…” he panted, pulling you to lie against his chest. “Do you still doubt my love? Do you still wish for me to prove my love?”

“Hm?” you shot up, heart jolting at his question. did he read the paper under your bed? gods, you could have died right there.

“Hm?” Aemond mimicked you, placing a finger under your chin and lifting it to make you look at him. “I don’t wish for you to ever doubt my love. Ever.”

You only nodded, kissing down his chest causing his heart to soften.

Aemond had finally bedded you, and you couldn’t wait to repeat it all.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

Ghost’s kinktober 2024 masterlist ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

don’t like something? don’t read it! 🫶🏽

HOTD, MARVEL, X-MEN, OBX, PEACEMAKER, STAR WARS.

1. Breast worship, Aemond Targaryen

2. Thigh riding, Logan howlett/wolverine

3. Predator/prey, weapon x!logan

4. Gun play, Rafe Cameron

5. Mask kink, Adrian chase/vigilante

6. Glove kink, Kylo ren

7. Pussy slapping, Logan howlett/Wolverine

8. Lap dance, Aegon Targaryen

9. Sex pollen, Logan Howlett/wolverine

10. Pain kink, Logan Howlett/Wolverine

11. Interrupted sex, JJ maybank

12. Praise kink, Remy Lebeau

13. Jealousy, John B

14. Car sex, old man logan

15. Teacher/student, Scott summers

16. Corruption kink, Logan Howlett

17. Dacryphilia, Rafe Cameron

18. Choking, Anakin Skywalker

19. Stalking, Rafe Cameron

20. Corruption + age difference, old man Logan

21. Somnophilia, Rafe Cameron

22. Spanking + punishment, Logan Howlett

23. Breeding kink, Remy Lebeau

19. Boot licking, Kylo Ren

25. Virginity, Remy Lebeau

26. Biting/marking, Logan Howlett

27. Hair pulling, Bucky Barnes

28. Mirror sex, Scott Summers

29. Cock warming, Peter Maximoff

30. TO BE DETERMINED

31. TO BE DETERMINED

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

did some force take you because i didn’t pray?

── aegon x fem!reader (you’re one of helaena’s lady’s in waiting)

the 2 times Aegon had someone there to comfort him

(i’m slightly changing things but just go with it pls)

small a/n before we begin: no use of y/n, i do my best to avoid descriptors BUT do use she / her and mention reader being shorter than aegon. when he hugs / holds you he is able to rest his head on yours. also i know everyone has titles and long names but to save time and also make it easier i just use first names. changing aegon’s rant just so im not word for word with the show.

also disclaimer: i know aegon is not a good person by any means! this is just the alternate reality version of him where things could turn out different if he’s shown genuine love and care

For as long as you’ve known the Targaryen family, it dawns on you one day that you’ve never seen Aegon cry.

In the beginning, that didn’t mean much. You were one of Helaena’s ladies’ in waiting, and only ever saw the then prince on occasion.

Then Aegon was crowned King, and you saw him a bit more as Helaena was required to be present at what felt like too many ceremonies. Because you were almost exactly the same age, although it was against an unspoken rule, she came to see you as a friend.

When the twins were born and Helaena saw how good you were with them, it seemed to anyone who was around that she wanted you near at all times. She practically begged you to begin sleeping in her chambers to help with the fussing and crying at night, and of course you said yes. It occurred to you later that night that she could’ve just demanded it.

It wasn’t long at all before the twins also formed an attachment, as their mothers need to have you close by didn’t lessen even as they got older.

Though they both loved you, Jaehaerys in particular, was very fond of you. Jaehaera was a lot more independent and chose to play with her dolls or little trinkets by herself. But the boy, the other ladies’ in waiting and even Helaena herself, often called him your little shadow.

Whatever task you were given, it wasn’t uncommon for Jaehaerys to be nearby. As he grew a little older, he began to ask questions.

Once, he asked why his mother wore such fancy dresses, but yours and the rest of the ladies’ were only ever plain. It hadn’t occurred to you that because you spent so much time with him and had a big hand in raising him, he saw you as family and genuinely didn’t understand why you dressed differently.

Luckily, you didn’t need to answer. Aegon appeared from around the corner, calling for his son. Once Jaehaerys ran to him, he gave you a nod before grabbing his sons hand and leading him in the opposite direction.

To the King, you were a mystery. He knew his sister preferred you to the other ladies’ in waiting, and he knew she’d rather you over any of them to be looking after the twins when she was busy, but he didn’t know why. Still, his sister was set in her ways, and in the end he simply decided it was best to not ask questions. Even he could see that you cared deeply for his children, and for him that was enough.

On the day Aegon wished for his son to sit in on a council meeting, Jaehaerys was being a bit difficult that morning. For whatever reason, he refused to go unless it was you that escorted him.

After assuring him that you’d only get the boy in the room and then quickly make your exit, Aegon nodded and led the 2 of you into the room.

Just like you knew he would, Jaehaerys immediately went for “the ball” as he called it, in front of Tyland Lannister. You could see irritation immediately all over the man’s face, but to his credit he did his best to hide it.

The third time the ball was grabbed, you were the only one that heard it when Tyland snapped. The meeting hadn’t yet begun but you could see he already wished it to be over.

“That child doesn’t belong in here,” he muttered to himself, unaware that you could hear him.

“I will escort him to his mothers chambers now. Is the heir to the throne bothering you a bit too much?” That last bit slipped out, and you immediately regretted it as the room grew silent and all eyes turned to the 3 of you. After a few tense seconds, most everyone resumed their conversations.

You slowly stood up, Jaehaerys now on your back as that was the only way he agreed to leave the room. “Apologies Ser Lan—”

“Hold on,” the room stilled once again when it was Aegon that spoke this time. He looked at you, then back at Tyland. “She has nothing to apologize for. And I believe she asked you a question. Is the heir to the throne, my son, is he bothering you?”

Even Alicent opted to look down and fiddle with her hands rather than step in. You didn’t think you’d ever been more grateful for Aegon that in that moment.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

ONE.

On the night Jaehaerys was murdered, you were knocked unconscious. You’d later find out it was the man they called Blood that hurt you, but at the time all you knew / remembered was waking to a loud noise. Immediately you got out of bed, but before you could properly realize what was happening, you felt something sharp across your cheek. And before you’d even had time to cry out, something hard hit the side of your head, causing everything to go dark.

When you woke, you ignored the maesters requests to stay in bed. As soon as you stood up, you almost wished you’d listened as you immediately felt dizzy. That was also when you felt the stinging pain of the cut on your cheek. The maester explained that you wouldn’t need to have it stitched up, but he hadn’t yet bandaged you because even in your sleep, you tossed and turn whenever he tried to tend to that injury.

After agreeing to not over exert yourself, you were off to find Helaena. It was then that another one of the ladies’ in waiting broke the news to you.

When you were let in to Alicent’s chambers, and locked eyes with Helaena, she immediately stood up from her spot on the floor and ran to you, Jaehaera still held tightly in her arms.

“Are you alright?” You knew she would be with the maester if she were injured, but you still had to ask. “They said—”

“He’s dead,” was all Helaena could say. That and “they killed him”.

What felt like an eternity later, and you’d gotten Jaehaera to sleep and convinced Helaena to at least lay down with her, you were unsure of what to do. Only a few moments later, you found yourself wandering the halls. Every inch of the place had been searched almost immediately, so you know that the halls were alright once again.

Part of you felt like you didn’t have a right to mourn Jaehaerys, as he wasn’t actually your son. You were just trying to process the fact that you’d never see his little smile again. Never again would you turn a corner and be greeted with that sweet voice asking where the 2 of you were going, because him staying with anyone else was out of the question.

You were one of the first to hold him after he was born, and had seen him every day since. To already be in a world where he no longer existed, it seemed cruel.

When you stopped walking, you realized that you’d come to Aegon’s chambers. The doors were obviously closed, and you had only managed to take a few steps back the way you came, when you heard them open.

“Oh, good,” you turned around, surprised that it was Alicent that had spoken. “Did Helaena send you?”

You stuttered as you tried to form a response, but she seemed to take your silence as a confirmation.

“He’s distraught, obviously. I’m not sure he’ll speak to you but…” she seemed unsure of herself. In the end she sort of motioned towards the doors, before turning and walking away.

Before you even raised your hand to knock, you heard sobbing. It was then that you realized you were wrong. Yes, your heart could break even more.

It didn’t escape your notice that Alicent left the room as her son was sobbing. You knew she wasn’t the comforting type, but you couldn’t imagine simply walking the other way.

After a few knocks, you weren’t surprised when there was no answer. As you slowly opened the door, then shut it behind you, you thought to yourself that you should’ve thought about what to say beforehand. Here was this normally stone-faced man, showing more emotion now than he had in the entire time you’d known him. And after more thought, you realized that perhaps Alicent had tried to comfort him but was asked to leave.

“Who is there?” Aegon finally seemed to notice someone else’s presence, but hadn’t actually looked up. His head remained in his hands, and you could hear him trying to quiet his cries.

“I am sorry, I— I just thought I should check on you.” You noticed how pathetic you sounded only after the words left your mouth.

He let out a humorless chuckle, then slowly stood up and made his way towards you. “Check up on me?”

You nodded. “I just wanted to see how you were doing. Stupid question to ask if you’re okay, I know.”

He studied your face for a moment, and his guard came down ever so slightly. He believed your concern to be genuine. And for Gods sakes, his own mother couldn’t even comfort him. She left quietly and Aegon knew it was in the hopes that he wouldn’t know she’d ever entered the room.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to answer you. Instead he returned to his sitting position, once again leaning forward so that his head was in his hands.

“I should’ve been there,” he spoke so softly that you didn’t quite hear him.

“Pardon?”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes. “I should’ve been there!” When he saw how you flinched, he regretted being so loud. But a larger part of him didn’t care. You were the first person to allow him to speak freely. He needed to let out his emotions somewhere. “I should have been there. But I thought who’d be stupid enough to try anything here? Look at how wrong I was.”

“There’s nothing you could’ve done,” you shook your head.

“That is bullshit!” He stood up and began pacing back and forth. “My son is DEAD! It was an act of revenge, why else do you think the rest of you were left alive?”

You were about to ask if they already know who is responsible, but it’s as if he read your mind.

“My brother kills her son, so she has taken it upon herself to exact revenge, a son for a son!” He laughs, but again there is no humor in his tone. “My son, the heir to the throne, he is gone. Murdered while he slept and I did nothing!”

As he sat crying, you kneeled in front of him. Trying not to think about it too much, you placed your hands on his and forced him to look at you.

“Everyone around knows how much you love that boy. And he loved you just as much.” You decided it was better to not repeat that he couldn’t have done anything. Right now in front of you, was a father who needed to grieve.

Aegon knew he should be cautious. His sister knew you well, but he did not. He was already ashamed that you’ve seen him cry. Yet you didn’t seem repulsed. You allowed him to rant and didn’t try to shove advice down his throat. His son was gone, but you reminded him of the love that existed, that still exists.

The angry part of him wanted to shout at you to leave, but he couldn’t bring himself to yell again in that moment. So he allowed your hands to remain on his as he cried for his son.

You prayed that no one would walk in, as you stood up and pulled Aegon up with you. Before he could ask what was happening, you gave him a hug.

His first instinct was again, one of anger. He resisted the brief urge to push you away. After a few seconds, he even surprised himself when he almost melted into your touch. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time he was in someone else’s embrace like this. And you didn’t ask questions. You only held him and listened to his heartbeat.

He found himself crying again as he returned the gesture and wrapped his arms around you. Although he knew he could never speak of this, and he’d have to ask that you not do the same at some point, he allowed himself to do nothing but mourn the loss of his son as you held him in your arms, and you in his.

He was grateful that at least in this moment, you allowed him to grieve.

🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️🗡️

TWO.

After that, there was a noticeable change. Aegon gravitated towards you if he entered a room and you were already there. Everyone noticed, but none dared to speak on the matter, not even Alicent or Otto.

You heard about the meeting in which it was ultimately decided that Jaehaerys’ body would be placed on a carriage led through the streets, so that the public might see just what Queen Rhaenyra was capable of. You didn’t think this was her doing. How could a mother who has just lost her son, inflict that pain onto someone else? Surely she wouldn’t. But everyone else was so sure. And you were but a low-born lady in waiting, so you remained silent.

The thought of Jaehaerys being used, paraded through the streets for all to gawk at, it angered you. Yes, he was a prince. And you understood the message that they hoped it would send, but it didn’t make you any less upset. He was just a boy. You thought of the boy who would run into your embrace whenever you walked in to his mothers chambers.

You couldn’t even imagine how Aegon was feeling. He loved that boy deeply, and you had no doubt that he was pressured into agreeing.

That same night, you were abruptly woken up. Immediately you looked to Helaena’s bed, filled with relief to see her and Jaehaera fast asleep. But it alarmed you that it was Ser Criston Cole of all people, who’d woken you up.

He put a finger to his lips, then turned and exited the room. You made sure you looked at least half decent before you followed him, wondering what on earth possessed him to wake you at such an hour.

“I—” He looked unsure of where to start.

“Has something happened?”

“It’s the King.” He didn’t wait for you to respond, instead turning and practically running out of the room.

As you chased after him, it did occur to you that it was odd for him to fetch the King’s sisters ladies’ in waiting. You also realized that he never technically responded when you asked if something happened.

When the 2 of you finally reached Aegon’s chambers, Criston didn’t even open the door. He didn’t need to though, you could hear the shouting and loud noises from outside.

“Who else is in there?” You fiddled with your hands, unsure of what you were walking into.

Criston merely shook his head. “No one. He kicked everyone out. But I know you helped him that— that night. Can you…?”

Without giving it a second thought, you nodded. Instead of leaving, Criston sort of stood guard right outside the door. You’d seen Aegon angry before, and were secretly relieved that he was outside should anything go wrong.

This time, you didn’t bother knocking. You did, however, try to open and then close the door as quietly as possible.

“I declare war!” It was the first thing you heard since entering the room, and you didn’t bother asking who he was declaring war on.

“My King —”

It was as if he was in a sort of angry trance. You speaking didn’t even cause him to look in your direction.

“I want them all dead! They’ll all pay for this, every fucking one of them!” As he spoke, he moved about the room destroying King Viserys’ carefully and meticulously constructed display.

You could see he needed to let his anger out. And didn’t exactly want to approach him while he held something that could hurt you. Not that he intentionally would, but seeing as he had no reaction to you calling out to him, you didn’t think it wise to sneak up on him.

As the smashing and destruction went on, you could see Aegon begin to wear himself out. It wasn’t so much that the anger was leaving his body, but rather that he was losing the energy to continue. Now, you thought to yourself, was a good time to gauge where he’s at mentally / emotionally.

“My King—” you tried again. This would be a moment you’d come to regret, seeing as you hadn’t considered the fact that Aegon was so blinded by his rage that he hadn’t noticed it was you in the room. Sure he heard the doors open and close, but he assumed it had been one of his men.

Not registering who it was that just spoke, and only hearing that someone was interrupting his rampage, he turned around with an arm swung out. It ended up being sort of a backhanded slap, and unfortunately he was wearing a ring.

Once he realized it was you that he’d just harmed, Aegon froze. His eyes widened and he immediately dropped to his knees.

“Are you hurt? Did I— did I…” He didn’t seem to know what he wanted to ask.

You put a hand to your cheek and examined your fingers, nothing a small amount of blood. He hit almost exactly where you were cut, and by the feel of it you guessed that his hit reopened the wound.

“It’s fine,” you tried to reassure him. “I am sure I will be healed in no time. There is no need—” Before you could finish speaking, he’d fled from the room, but not before hurriedly asking you to stay put.

Only a short while later he returned with the maester quickly following behind him.

As the man tended to your face, you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he debated on speaking. In the end, he decided to ask the question.

“How did you manage to reopen this wound?”

Luckily for you, you’d studied the room and had your answer prepared.

You pointed to a spot on the floor where a glass of wine lay spilt. “I slipped just there. Tried to steady myself and ended up landing on my face and cutting it with one of the broken pieces.”

Because you spoke immediately and with such confidence, your lie was believed.

“Might not heal as well if it’s opened a third time. Still doesn’t need stitches, just try not to fall again, eh?” He gave you a pat on the shoulder before giving you a small jar of ointment to apply to the cut, instructing you to apply it once a day.

As soon as the man left the room, you studied Aegon. He was pacing the entire time, only stopping once the maester had left.

“Why?” He whispered.

You knew what he was asking. “I did not think it would do any good for him to know the truth. I know you didn’t mean to,” you shrugged.

He was almost in a state of shock. Here he’d just injured you, accidentally, sure, but it was still done in anger. And it wasn’t that long ago that he broke down in front of you. Despite all of that, you were still kind to him. You covered for him.

Aegon fell to his knees once again in front of a large portion of the mess he created. “I’m sorry,” he spoke softly.

“My King you do not need to apologize. As I said, I know it wasn’t on purpose.”

He looked up at you, fresh tears in his eyes, and you lost count on how many times your heart broke for him. You joined him on the floor, and put what you hoped was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I can’t do anything right,” the first tear fell, but he didn’t bother wiping it away. “I allowed men to break in and murder my son, and this is twice now you’re hurt because of me.”

The fact that he blamed himself for it still, brought tears to your eyes as well.

“No one thinks this was your doing, and I swear to you that I don’t blame you.”

He was silent for a moment, deep in thought. “How am I meant to continue?”

His question caught you off guard. “Pardon?”

“My son is dead. Murdered, and my dear sister that claims to be the rightful heir may not have held the knife but I know she commanded the men that did. How am I supposed to to sit on the throne and continue to rule as if none of this has happened?”

“I do not think anyone expects you to act as if nothing has happened —”

Hearing that caused Aegon to laugh. “Have you met my mother? She is one of the many against me declaring war.”

“This tragedy —”

He cuts you off once again. “Tragedy? Hah! Understatement of the fucking year. And people are already speaking about my sons murder as if it’s a lesson! My grandfather, dear old Otto Hightower, wants to parade my sons body for all to see. Says it will show them the kind of Queen that Rhaenyra really is. You should’ve seen how many nodded their heads in agreement. How do I just hand him over to be stared at, as if he is no more than a piece of meat on display at the market?”

“I hate this,” you finally get a chance to speak. “Jaehaerys was the sweetest little boy I kno—knew. And I wish his death wasn’t being used in this way. A tragedy should not always be a lesson. Sometimes it should be allowed to be just that, a tragedy. I am truly sorry you are having to deal with all of this.”

Something about what you’ve said causes tears to spring to Aegon’s eyes. Perhaps it’s the way you speak so kindly of his son. He knows you genuinely loved the boy, after all. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” His quiet sobs begin as he echoes your use of those 2 words, and when you turned to face him, he practically falls into your embrace. You stop counting how many times he utters I’m sorry. In between the I’m sorry’s, he mostly said his sons name, but you heard your name as well as Helaena and Jaehaera’s.

Night turned into morning and Aegon finds himself in your arms once again. Eventually his sobs had slowed down, and he fell asleep, laying on the hard floor with his head in your lap.

As he slept, you allowed yourself to run your hands through his hair, just for a moment. Aegon let out a content sigh, finding comfort in your movements even in his sleep.

Here was this boy who was feared by many, who didn’t ever want anyone to see him as weak, and yet twice he allowed himself to cry and grieve in front of you.

At some point, you gently wake Aegon and convince him to get into bed.

As you take one last look at him before exiting his chambers, you can’t help but silently hope that the future would be a little kinder to him.

TAGLIST — @blupblupfish | @sapphirest0nes

If you’d like to be tagged in future Aegon pieces, let me know!

[rottenfyre]

BABY SISTER: 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

The Red Keep hummed with quiet excitement, a rare gentleness settling over the halls as the news spread. The queen had given birth to another child, a girl, and the brothers were brought to see their sister for the first time.

Aegon, stomped ahead, his silver-blond hair a wild mess that matched the glint of mischief in his violet eyes. “I don’t see why everyone’s so fussed,” he grumbled, casting a look over his shoulder at Aemond, who followed more cautiously. “She’s just a babe. Probably all wrinkly and loud.”

Aemond didn’t reply. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect. His small hand clutched the edge of his older brother’s sleeve, his wide eyes taking in every detail as they approached the cradle where their sister lay sleeping. Aegon made a face as they neared. “See? She’s not doing anything interesting.”

Despite his words, Aegon leaned over the cradle’s edge, his annoyance more curious than he let on. Aemond stood on his toes beside him, peering over, almost shyly. Inside the cradle was the tiniest babe they’d ever seen, her silver hair softer than the finest silk, curling slightly on her tiny head. Her cheeks were pink and round, and she slept peacefully, her breaths soft and steady.

Aegon wrinkled his nose. “She’s so small.” He reached out and gave her a gentle poke on the cheek. “Hey, wake up.”

Aemond gasped softly, his eyes wide. “Don’t!” he whispered, though he was just as curious. He glanced back down at her, nervous that Aegon might have hurt her.

The babe stirred, her little nose scrunching up. Aegon watched in surprise as her eyelids fluttered open slowly, revealing the same violet eyes that both brothers shared. She blinked up at them, her gaze drifting between Aegon’s smirk and Aemond’s wide-eyed stare. Then, as if recognizing them in some deep, instinctual way, the corners of her tiny mouth curled into a soft, gentle smile.

Both boys froze, their hearts seeming to stop at the same moment. Aegon, who had been ready to declare his sister boring and unimportant, suddenly found himself captivated by that smile. His earlier irritation melted away, replaced with something warm and protective he didn’t quite understand. “She’s… she’s smiling at us,” he whispered, almost in awe.

Aemond, who had been hesitant, felt his heart swell. He reached out a tiny hand, his fingers barely brushing her soft, pudgy one. “She’s beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder.

The babe made a small, contented sound, her tiny hand curling instinctively around Aemond’s finger. Her eyes, so large and innocent, stayed fixed on her brothers, as if already knowing how important they would be in her life. Aegon reached out too, letting her grab his finger with surprising strength. The moment was simple, yet so lovely. The two boys stared down at their sister, completely captivated, forgetting any doubts or teasing words.

Aegon, who had been ready to dismiss her, now felt a fierce surge of love and protectiveness. “I guess… I guess she’s not so bad,” he admitted, but there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.

Aemond just nodded, still entranced, his heart swelling with a love he had never felt before. “We’ll take care of her,” he said softly, a promise in his quiet words.

Part 2 ♡ Part 3

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

[xxnymeriatargaryenxx]

when your husband aemond wants physical affection, he comes to YOUR chambers.

sex is not the first or the only thing he asks for, aemond just really wants your full undivided attention. after an exhaustingly long day of managing affairs and telling people what to do, all he wants is for his sweet beloved wife to take care of him, starting with removing his clothes and taking a hot aromatic bath.

aemond always prefers it when you undress him, as you are gentle with your touch and you take extra precaution when removing his eye-patch. the prince regent finds a degree of comfort in you he hasn’t felt since he was a boy at driftmark.

when he is feeling extra needy, aemond will insist that you join him in the bathtub yourself, he loves to have you on his lap and chest-to-chest with him so close and intimate.

and when you eventually begin to ride him, he simply can’t stop gawking at how radiant you look under the flickering candlelights. he is completely mesmerized not only by your dornish beauty, but also by your affectionate nature and how well you understand him. it makes him cum that much faster when you ride him like this.

alternatively, when a bath is not involved, aemond will stand at your doorway with his hands clasped behind his back until you make the first move beckoning him over to your bed.

when the prince regent is feeling particularly sore after riding vhagar, you give him a deep tissue back massage, using some hot oil, usually eucalyptus and jasmine rubbed between your fingers to soften his tense muscles and relieve any back knots.

…..after that? it’s all fair game 😮‍💨💦🍆

[shuichiakainx]