#Hotd season 2

[dreamfyredarling]

AWESOME ART🥰

Dragonriders

[restinslices]

Idk why, but the idea of Cregan knowing his partner is mad at him because they address him as "My Lord" instead of his name or a term of endearment, is so funny to me

Cregan: *walking past* Wife

"My Lord"

Cregan: *stops dead in his tracks* What did I do this time?

[aeralux]

"Shadow of Your Past" - Aegon Targaryen

Summary: Long ago, your heart belonged to your past betrothed, Cregan Stark. Those times are long gone, as you now reside in King's Landing with your newborn babe and doting husband, Aegon. However seeing your wolf after all these years makes feelings come up in unexpected ways, making Aegon question your love for him.

Warnings: slight angst; Cregan is the other man (I'm so sorry, Cregan girlies); slight love triangle; jealous and sad Aegon; happy ending; he took you from your home tho; Helaena is dead (gets mentioned once); slight Cregan x Reader

Words: 2.9k

Notes: This was based on an anonymous ask. I changed it a tad bit but kept the original idea. First time ever written something adjacent to angst or fluff.

In the frigid lands of Winterfell, your destiny had long been sealed - to become a Lady of the North, wed to a formidable Lord from the North. Raised within Winterfell, you had been groomed from birth for this inevitable union. This future seemed as immutable as the unyielding winters that gripped the region.

Yet fate, it seemed, had other plans. When Cregan's beloved wife tragically passed, leaving him a widower with their young son Rickon, you found yourself pulled into their lives like the warm embrace of a dwelling fire. A fast friendship blossomed between yourself and Cregan, gradually kindled into the smouldering embers of new love. The whole of Winterfell looked on fondly as the once-bereaved Cregan's heart defrosted in the radiant presence of his new intended bride.

However, the fragile promise of this love was soon overshadowed by the towering curiosity of King Aegon II Targaryen. Whispers of the Northern beauty's unparalleled loveliness and grace had spread like wildfire through the realm. Bewitched by the tales, Aegon stated that this virtuous woman would be his, consequences be damned.

With a heavy heart, you bid farewell to the only home you had ever known and the love you had so fleetingly tasted, bound for the regal prisons of the Red Keep.

Within the crimson towers of King's Landing, a surprise awaited - Aegon's children were nothing like the spoiled, bratty offspring you had envisioned. Instead, they were kind, generous souls, undoubtedly a legacy of their late, beloved mother Helaena. Though resigned to your fate as a mere royal broodmare, you found yourself powerless against the innocent charms of the young princes and princesses, who swiftly embraced you as their "mummy."

Unprepared for the tenderness that blossomed between this makeshift family, King Aegon too found his calloused heart unexpectedly stirred. What had begun as a selfish pursuit of beauty transformed into a spirited courtship of genuine affection. Though still haunted by the ghost of your lost love in the North, over time you developed strong feelings for Aegon, especially after welcoming your first son, Prince Rhaevar. As you embraced your role as mother to Aegon's children and grew into your position as Queen of Westeros, you could not deny the sincerity of Aegon's keenness.

To commemorate the beginning of this new chapter in your life, Aegon declared that a grand tournament would be held in your honour on your name day. The air was thick with excitement, and the vibrant colours of the banners fluttered against a clear blue sky. Laughter and music filled the atmosphere as noblemen and commoners gathered to celebrate.

Yet, even amidst the revelry, shadows of the past loomed large. Your heart quickened as you caught sight of him—Cregan Stark, surrounded by his loyal men, his presence commanding and undeniable. The moment your eyes met, time seemed to stand still. Memories of stolen glances and whispered promises flooded your mind, overwhelming you with emotions long since buried.

In a surge of reckless abandon, you broke through the crowd, propelled by an all-consuming longing. The world around you faded away as you ran into his arms, feeling the warmth of his embrace envelop you like a familiar, cherished blanket. His scent—the wild, crisp scent of the North—stirred something profound within you.

As he pulled you closer, old feelings resurfaced with a ferocity that took your breath away. The way he held you felt both achingly familiar and electrifyingly new. You could hear your heart thundering in your chest, drowning out the sounds of the festival, as you melted into the safety of his arms. In that moment, surrounded by laughter and celebration, it felt as if you had returned to a lost piece of yourself, igniting a fire that you thought had long cooled.

"Cregan," you whispered into the thick furs of his coat, your breath mingling with the cold air that surrounded you. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this moment. Looking up at him, your heart raced as you were met with those familiar, loving grey eyes. The same eyes that had haunted your dreams for years apart.

He seemed taken aback by your sudden rush towards him, a mixture of surprise and warmth flooding his expression. You could see the shadows of longing and concern etched on his face as he stepped back slightly as if he were afraid that if he embraced you too tightly, he would shatter the fragile connection that still tethered your hearts together.

"I missed you," Cregan managed to say, his voice barely more than a whisper. A soft smile crept onto his lips, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made your heart flutter. "You've changed," he continued, his gaze roaming over you with awe and affection. "You've become a woman."

A blush crept to your cheeks as you recalled the innocence of your past, the days spent dreaming of knightly heroes and fairy-tale endings. "And you," you replied, tinged with affection and sadness, "you've become even more captivating."

His eyes darkened for a moment, and the smile faltered. “Yet here we are, in a world that insists we belong to different stories,” he said, his voice heavy with unvoiced thoughts. “I should never have allowed myself to come here."

You stepped closer, drawn to him irresistibly, the warmth radiating from his body beckoning you like a moth to flame. “You really think so?” Your voice firm yet laced with sorrow.

Cregan shook his head slowly, the weight of reality settling between you like a thick fog. “You know I don't. But we are not in the North anymore.” His voice was a gentle storm, swirling with complex emotions. “You have a life, a kingdom. And I… I am but a shadow of your past.”

Tears welled in your eyes at the bittersweet truth of his words. “A shadow who holds my heart,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of longing. “I thought of you every day, every night.”

He looked down, his fingers running through the thick fur of his coat as if seeking comfort. “Then let me be the one to give you the freedom you deserve. I won’t hold you back. I won't hold you back from loving your husband, your kids.”

You reached out, your hand brushing against his, a soft spark igniting between your fingertips. “But it is you I dreamed of for so long,” you insisted fiercely, pressing your body against his. “You are the one I dreamed of, Cregan. You are my heartbeat.”

His head snapped up, catching your gaze with an intensity that made the air crackle around you. “And yet, we are bound by what we cannot change. If only the fates were kinder…”

You both stood there, worlds apart yet painfully close, the silence wrapping around you like a delicate embrace. Finally, Cregan stepped back, his heart heavy but resolute. “Go back to your life, my queen. But remember this moment. Remember us… even if we cannot be together.”

With that, he turned away, every step echoing with unfulfilled promises and lingering affection, leaving you standing in the cold, the weight of your love a bittersweet reminder that some stories, despite their depth, are never meant to unfold.

It felt like a shard of glass had been driven into your heart for the second time, twisting painfully with every thought of Cregan. The memories flooded back, uninvited and relentless, like a storm you couldn’t escape. You stood there, grappling with the truth he had laid bare before you. It wasn’t just about nostalgia; it was the realization that he was right. You had built a new life, filled with the laughter of children and the warmth of a husband who loved you deeply. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to bury those feelings, your first love left a mark that time could not erase.

You remembered the way Cregan had looked at you, that spark in his eyes igniting something profound within you — a connection that felt electric and raw. The ache of what once was gnawed at your insides, threatening to unravel the carefully woven fabric of your current life. You wanted to forget, to silence the inner turmoil that his memory stirred, but how could you, when a piece of your heart belonged forever to him? The struggle was suffocating, a cruel reminder that some loves cling to your soul no matter how far you run.

The icy reality of Aegon's presence loomed heavily over King's Landing as he stood on the balcony, his piercing gaze fixed upon the tournament and the people. The vibrant colours of the celebration below only intensified his resentful fury, each laugh and cheer from the crowd grating against his simmering emotions. How dare that barbarian come so close to his sweet wife, daring to touch her with such intimacy? The very thought ignited a wildfire of jealousy that blazed in his chest.

He knew he had snatched you away from Cregan, that steadfast Stark who had cherished you. But Aegon was the King, a crown heavy with authority resting upon his brow. He convinced himself that he could do as he pleased, but the sight of you laughing, your eyes sparkling with delight as you spoke to another man, felt like salt in an open wound.

Aegon raised the ornate golden goblet to his lips, the richness of the deep crimson wine swirling within—a stark contrast to the bitterness seeping into his soul. The velvety liquid flowed smoothly down his throat, but it did little to quell the storm raging inside him. Rage coursed through his veins like a volatile poison, making him feel as if his heart might burst against the confines of his chest.

From the intensity of his stare, one could almost feel the air crackle with tension; any Stark worth their salt should have sensed it, and should have begun preparing for the inevitable conflict that was brewing. He envisioned himself unleashing the full fury of his wrath, flames licking at every corner of the city, consuming anything and anyone that dared to come between him and his queen. The jealousy, sharp and relentless, gnawed at him, and with each passing moment, it became more apparent that he would not let this slight stand unchallenged.

Aegon stalked across the polished wooden floor, his long strides echoing in the grand hall as he approached your still figure in the stands. The sound of his boots clinking sharply against the wood pierced the air, drawing attention from those nearby. You turned around swiftly, the remnants of tears shimmering in your eyes like morning dew. With a quick motion, you wiped your cheeks, summoning every ounce of strength to mask your vulnerability. A shaky smile broke through, holding onto the semblance of normalcy.

“Aegon, my love,” you called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, quivering with emotion.

His eyes narrowed, a storm brewing beneath the surface. “Do not play games with me,” he snarled, the low growl of his voice sending a chill down your spine. “What did he say to you? I demand to know, right this instant!” The intensity of his accusation was palpable, rage and jealousy intertwining as he loomed closer.

You took a small step back, startled by the ferocity of his words. “It was nothing, truly. He only greeted me, husband,” you stammered, your heart racing as his gaze bore into you, searching for the truth amidst the tension of the crowd’s watchful eyes.

“Nothing?” Aegon scoffed, throwing his arms wide in a dramatic display of disbelief. “You think I would believe such an absurd claim? What man merely greets a lady of the court without ulterior motives? You know better!” His voice was a fervent mix of jealousy and protectiveness, each syllable dripping with accusation.

“I assure you, Aegon, it was merely a courteous exchange,” you replied, striving for calm amidst the chaos swirling within. “You know how these formalities are.”

“Formalities?” he echoed, his tone laced with sarcasm. “You may call it that, but I see a man with intentions far from noble. Do not underestimate my concern for you, for your well-being—my beloved wife.”

You watched as the tension washed over him, the play of emotions battling within those stormy eyes. “Please, my king, I ask you to trust me,” you implored, reaching out to touch his arm gently, hoping to quell the tempest within him. “There is nothing more between us than mere civility.”

His gaze softened slightly at your touch, but the underlying fury simmered beneath the surface. “Civility, they call it, yet it feels like a betrayal,” he murmured, clenching his jaw. “I would not let any man tarnish what belongs to me.”

“Aegon,” you said, your voice steadier now, “I belong to you, and only you. Let us not allow jealousy to poison what we hold sacred.”

The tension hung thick in the air, a palpable force that seemed to wrap around you both, suffocating yet electric with unspoken words. Aegon stood before you, his posture rigid, an imposing figure clad in regal attire that glinted with the weight of his title. His expression morphed swiftly from blazing rage to sharp realization, as if the realization itself cut deeper than any dagger.

"You still harbour feelings for him, don't you?" His voice was cold, each word deliberate, imbued with a bitterness that struck at your very core. His eyes, usually filled with warmth, now gleamed with a piercing scrutiny that threatened to unravel the very fabric of your devotion.

Your heart raced, a wild drumbeat of panic and despair. "No! No, of course not!" You exclaimed, an edge of desperation creeping into your tone. "I only love you and our children. You must believe me!" The plea dripped from your lips, each word a frantic attempt to bridge the chasm of doubt that had formed between you. You nearly sank to your knees, the guilt eating you alive.

Aegon’s lips curled into a cruel smirk, a devilish glint in his sapphire eyes. "Do you even love me? Or has this all been a grand farce?" His voice, while playful in tone, carried an undercurrent of pain that clutched at your heart with icy fingers. The regal confidence he usually commanded wavered, revealing the vulnerability that lay beneath the surface.

Tears, unbidden and unwelcome, began to stream down your cheeks, trailing down to your chin. You could feel the weight of your emotions, raw and unfiltered. "Of course, I love you, Aegon!" you cried, your voice cracking under the strain of your sincerity. "You must know that. Every part of my soul is bound to you!" The desperation washed over you, carrying with it the echoes of your commitment, louder than any accusation.

Aegon’s gaze softened for a fleeting moment, the familiar warmth flickering beneath the icy facade, before insecurity took hold once more. “Then why does he haunt the corners of your heart?” he challenged, crossing his arms, the royal crown upon his brow seeming heavier than ever.

You took a shaky breath, the air thick with tension and longing. "He is a shadow from the past. But you, Aegon," you implored, your eyes locking onto his, "you are my present and my future. Please, don’t let envy poison what we have built together. Can you not see how much I need you?" The words tumbled out, a cascade of heartache and fervour, hoping to illuminate the depths of your true feelings.

Aegon’s expression faltered for a brief heartbeat, the storm in his eyes giving way to a vulnerability that he rarely let show. “You swear it?” he whispered, his voice softer now, laced with hope and disbelief.

“I swear it,” you replied fervently, your heart laid bare before him, an offering of unwavering love despite the tempest that had arisen between you. “You are my king, my love, and the father of my children. I would never betray you.”

At that moment, the air shimmered with unspoken oaths, and you both stood on the ridge, caught between jealousy and the desperate hope for reprieve.

Aegon's face softened, the storm in his eyes receding like clouds parting after a storm. He reached out, his fingers gently brushing away the tears that stained your cheeks. The tenderness of his touch sent a shiver through you, a reminder of the love that had grown between you over the years.

"My queen," he murmured, his voice a low, comforting rumble. "Forgive me. I should believe you over anyone." He pulled you close, enveloping you in his strong arms. The familiar scent of him - smoke and spice - filled your senses, grounding you in the present.

You melted into his embrace, feeling the rapid beating of his heart against your cheek. "There's nothing to forgive," you whispered, your fingers curling into the rich fabric of his tunic. "We've weathered storms before."

"But I cannot bear the thought of losing you. Not to him, not to anyone," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gently, you placed your hand on his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your palm. "You won't lose me, Aegon. I am yours, now and always."

His eyes closed at your touch, leaning into your hand as if it were a lifeline. When he opened them again, they shimmered with unshed tears. "I love you," he breathed, the words carrying the weight.

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Moth to a Flame

Summary - Bound by duty and trapped in a loveless marriage, her heart still belongs to Jace, the man she truly loves. The weight of her choices and the secrets she keeps threaten to tear her apart, while the tension between love and obligation grows unbearable.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2179

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

'Cause he seems like he's good for you and he makes you feel like you should and all your friends say he's the one his love for you is true.

Jacaerys Velaryon had known from the moment he met me that I was the one.

His eyes held that quiet determination, a certainty that ran deeper than the tides that carried his bloodline, a certainty that defied logic.

It was as if the gods had whispered my name into his heart long before I even came into his life.

He didn't just see me—he understood me. There was something in his gaze that spoke of an unspoken promise, a bond that neither time nor circumstance could sever.

I felt it too, that inexplicable pull, that instant connection, as though fate itself had tied us together, long before we ever exchanged words.

From that first glance, my heart quickened in a way it had never done before as if it had been waiting for him all along.

I had heard of Jace long before we met. Stories of his valour, his grace in the air as a dragon rider, the weight of his lineage as a Velaryon, and his close connection to the Targaryen bloodline.

But none of the tales prepared me for the man himself.

The way his presence filled a room, not with arrogance, but with quiet strength. His every movement seemed deliberate as if each step he took was a dance between duty and desire.

There was no hesitation in him, no room for doubt. When he looked at me, I knew—I was his choice, not because he was told to make it, but because he wanted me, needed me.

In his eyes, I was not just a woman; I was the woman, the one who could match his fire with my own.

But life had always been cruel to Jace. It seemed as though the gods themselves took pleasure in denying him the happiness he deserved, casting obstacle after obstacle in his path.

From birth, he had been burdened with the expectations of his lineage, the whispers about his legitimacy, the constant reminder that despite his rightful claim to power, there were always those ready to question it.

His life had been a series of sacrifices, always doing what was expected, what was demanded.

And when it came to love, fate was no kinder.

It was not love or desire that would ultimately shape our paths—it was politics, a game played by those far removed from the human cost of their decisions.

I was promised to another before I could even comprehend what love truly meant.

To his uncle, Aegon.

Aegon, who was born with every privilege but none of the grace that should accompany it. Aegon, whose every action seemed to serve himself rather than the realm.

To him, I was just another acquisition, a pretty thing to claim and parade. He never tried to know me, never even bothered to see me as anything more than a symbol of power.

My hand in marriage was his prize, but my heart was something he would never possess.

How could he, when he didn't even attempt to understand the woman he had taken as his wife?

I would have endured it all—the cold indifference, the suffocating weight of being bound to someone I could never love—but now, I was trapped even deeper.

I was pregnant. Aegon's child. His legacy was growing inside me, sealing my fate forever.

The idea of it felt like chains tightening around my wrists, pulling me further into a life I had never wanted.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

The hall was brimming with life that night, yet it felt suffocating, like a cage woven from silk.

The air was thick, cloying with the scent of spiced wine and perfumed candles that clung to my skin like unwanted caresses.

Laughter bubbled around me, but it felt distant, muffled, as if I stood at the bottom of the sea, drowning in the weight of expectation.

Even the candlelight seemed dim, flickering uncertainly, like the fragile hope I still held onto. The low hum of courtiers sounded around me all gathered to celebrate Aegon's latest achievement.

A title bestowed upon him by the King himself, something hollow like "Lord of the Realm's Peace."

Everyone knew he was no bringer of peace. He had done nothing to earn the title except exist as the heir.

The court was filled with false praise, their cheers hollow, just as hollow as the man they celebrated.

Aegon stood there, basking in the adulation as if he had single-handedly won a great battle. His smirk stretched across his face as though he had conquered nations.

But all he had conquered was me—through politics, through duty.

I sat beside him, a hollow smile plastered on my face, though my heart was far from here. My hands rested protectively over my stomach, hiding the secret that only I knew.

I felt the subtle signs, the tightening of my ribs, the unspoken changes within me.

Soon enough, everyone would know. Soon enough, this prison I was already in would become one I could never escape.

My future was no longer my own, tied not just to Aegon, but to the child that grew within me.

"Another toast!" Aegon shouted, his voice thick with the slur of too much wine. "To my beautiful wife, who will no doubt give me a strong son—soon enough."

He winked at me, and the room erupted in laughter. I felt the eyes of the court on me, appraising, judging, already imagining the son that would be born of our union.

They had no idea of the storm inside me, the turmoil of being trapped in a life I despised.

My smile faltered, but I forced it back into place.

Across the table, Jace sat silently, his dark eyes burning into me. He hadn't touched his cup all evening, his hands clenched into fists as if trying to contain the fury he felt. He knew.

He had always been able to see through me, to sense the turmoil beneath the surface.

His anger simmered just beneath the surface, not just at Aegon, but at the fate that had brought us to this place, this moment, where the lives we had dreamt of were slipping further out of reach.

His gaze flickered to Aegon, then back to me. A question lingered there, unspoken but clear. How long will you let him claim you?

"Are you not pleased, my love?" Aegon leaned in close, his voice lowering in mock concern, though there was nothing genuine in his tone.

His fingers brushed my arm, cold and possessive, sending a shiver of revulsion through me. "You seem... distant tonight."

"Perhaps I haven't been giving you enough attention." His lips curled into a smirk, and I forced myself to meet his gaze, even though it took every ounce of strength not to flinch away.

His face was flushed from drink, the wine staining his lips, his eyes glazed over with self-satisfaction.

"I am tired," I whispered, my voice barely more than a breath. "It has been a long evening."

Aegon waved a dismissive hand. "Tired! You're always tired." His lips curled into a smirk.

"Perhaps you need more rest." He leaned in, his breath warm and sour against my ear. "Soon enough, you'll be resting plenty—with my heir in your belly."

The words sent a chill down my spine, and I had to swallow the bile that rose in my throat. He didn't know the truth yet, but he could feel it. The claim he would have over me, over my body, once the child was born.

There would be no escape then.

No more stolen moments with Jace, no more dreams of what might have been.

As the evening wore on, I found an opportunity to slip away. The hall had grown louder, the courtiers more raucous with drink and merriment.

I sought solace in the shadows, slipping out of the bustling crowd and toward the tall windows that overlooked the darkened gardens. I pressed a hand to my stomach, the life inside me already feeling like a prison.

The weight of it threatened to crush me, to drown me in despair.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Jace's voice came softly from behind me, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

I didn't turn to face him. I couldn't bear to see the anguish I knew was there.

"What was I supposed to say, Jace?" My voice trembled, betraying me. "That I am carrying the child of a man I hate? That I am trapped in this marriage forever?"

He stepped closer, his presence a storm at my back. "I would've taken you away," he said, his voice tight with emotion. "We could have left—before it was too late."

I finally turned to him, tears stinging my eyes. "And gone where? To what end? We would be hunted, disgraced. Aegon would never stop until he had us both dead."

I pressed a hand to my stomach, the gesture feeling like both a confession and a condemnation. "And now... there's no escape."

Jace's face contorted with rage, with grief. His fists clenched at his sides, and for a moment, I thought he might hit something or someone.

"This isn't how it was supposed to be," he muttered, his voice thick with pain. "You were supposed to be mine."

I stepped toward him, desperate to touch him, to feel the comfort I knew only he could provide, but I stopped myself.

Reality crashed down between us, a barrier I could never break. "I was yours, Jace. I still am, in every way that matters."

But his eyes darkened with bitterness. "But you carry his child. His blood will live inside you forever."

"I didn't choose this!" I cried, the words spilling out of me, hot and raw. "You think I don't hate it too? Every day, I lose a piece of the life we could have had. But what can I do? There's no way out now. I am bound to him, bound to this child, forever."

Jace's gaze flickered to my stomach, his expression torn between love and despair. "And what of the child? Do you even want it? Do you love it?"

The question struck me like a dagger.

I swallowed hard, trying to gather my thoughts, but the truth clawed at my throat, refusing to be silenced.

"I don't know," I admitted, my voice breaking. "How can I love something that represents everything I've lost?"

The silence between us stretched painfully, heavy with the weight of everything we could never say aloud.

Finally, Jace spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper. "And Aegon... does he know? Does he know that you still dream of me, that you think of me every time he touches you?"

Tears spilt down my cheeks. "No. He's blind to it all. He thinks he owns me. But he doesn't know where my heart truly lies."

Jace's hand reached for mine, and for a fleeting moment, I allowed myself to believe that maybe, just maybe, we could still defy the odds. But before his fingers could touch mine, a sharp voice shattered the moment.

"There you are."

Aegon's voice, thick with drink, cut through the air like a blade. He approached us, his eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.

Jace's hand still hovered near mine, and I saw the suspicion flare in Aegon's eyes. He smiled, but there was nothing kind in it.

"I was wondering where my wife had wandered off to," he said, his voice laced with malice. He wrapped his arm around my waist possessively, pulling me close.

His fingers dug into my skin, cold and possessive. "You've been talking to my nephew, I see."

I stiffened in his grasp, the air between us thick with unspoken tension. I opened my mouth to speak, to explain, but Aegon's laughter cut me off.

"No need to explain," he said, his tone mocking. "We're all family here, aren't we, Jace?"

Jace's eyes burned into mine, but his face remained impassive as he stepped back.

"Of course," he said, his voice strained. "I was merely congratulating your wife. She is... radiant tonight."

Aegon's smile widened, his eyes gleaming with triumph. "Radiant, indeed. And soon, she'll give me the son I've been waiting for."

His words were a death sentence.

They sealed my fate as surely as any chains could. And as Aegon led me back into the hall, his arm still wrapped around me, I glanced back at Jace one last time.

His eyes followed me, filled with a longing that mirrored my own. We were both trapped, prisoners of a world we had never wanted, bound by duty and blood.

And as I was pulled further into the crowd, I knew that the life I had dreamed of with Jace was lost forever.

But does he know you call me when he sleeps? But does he know the pictures that you keep? But does he know the reasons that you cry? Or tell me, does he know where your heart lies?

Where it truly lies.

A/n - Abel does things to me, his music is just 🤌🏼

[nonconfy]

"It is said that Lady Cassandra wept bitterly when she learned that the king had died and that 𝙨𝙝𝙚 𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙗𝙚 𝙖 𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣"

[daemyra-fire]

In love

This is amazing @Ackerbangbang posted it on twitter and he is so talented and his stories are super fun, if you haven't seen them we invite you to check them out, I love his work

[the-fiction-witch]

Paramour P2

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Aegon Targaryen Couple - Aegon X Reader Reader - Y/n (Paramour) Rating - 18+ fingering/ pinv/ raw sex/ masterkink/ choking/ squirting Word Count - 1428

Aegon's eyes flashed with excitement as he took in the sight of Y/n, her body splayed out before him like a sacrifice on an altar. He couldn't help but feel a surge of pride and ownership, knowing that she was his to command, his to use as he saw fit. Without hesitation, he climbed onto the bed behind her, his hands reaching out to claim her once more. His fingers delved between her thighs, parting them with ease as he searched for the source of her desire. “Your King wants you to come now,” he growled, his voice low and menacing, His thumb pressed against her clit, applying gentle pressure as he began to circle it with his index finger.

Y/n's hips bucked upward, seeking more friction, more sensation.

His fingers danced across her skin, teasing and tormenting her until she was squirming beneath him. Aegon's breath came hot against her ear, his words dripping with promise as he whispered, “You're so close, Y/n…just a little more.” With a deft movement, he added a second finger to the mix, stretching her wider as he worked her towards climax. His other hand crept up her chest before grabbing her neck to lightly choke her, “Don't hold back,” he commanded, his voice low and urgent. As if sensing her hesitation, Aegon's fingers quickened their pace, coaxing forth a cry of pleasure from Y/n's lips. His fingers plunged deeper, twisting and curling inside her as he sought to unravel the tangled threads of her pleasure. Y/n's body arched upward, her hips jerking wildly as she strained toward release.

“Yes,”she hissed, her voice barely audible,

Suddenly, Aegon's grip on her tightened, his fingers digging into her neck, forcing her to sit up and flipping her over onto her stomach pushing her face into a pillow and fingering her harder and faster,

Y/n screamed in pleasure squirting down his hand and arching her back hard pushing her ass into the air as she came

Aegon's grip on her hair tightened, holding her in place as he watched her surrender to the waves of pleasure washing over her. His own body tensed, his muscles straining with restraint as he fought to contain his own orgasm. But it was too late. The sight of Y/n's abandoned form, her body contorted in ecstasy, was too much for him to bear. With a low growl, Aegon plunged forward, burying himself deep within her still-quivering depths. His hips pistoned furiously, driving himself home again and again as he tipped over into his own orgasm and filled her with his seed. For a long moment, there was silence. Then, slowly, Aegon's breathing returned to normal, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic pattern as he lay there, spent and sated.

As the aftershocks of his orgasm faded, Aegon slowly extricated himself from Y/n's still-warm body. He stood up, his movements fluid and deliberate, and walked over to the nearby basin where a servant had left a jug of warm water and a soft cloth. Without looking back, he began to clean himself,

Y/n in her exalted state rolled onto her back laying there gasping with her legs spread wide open dripping squirt and jizz from her pussy as she lays there, her nipples hard and perky from all the excitement

Aegon turned around, his eyes locking onto Y/n's spent form with a mixture of satisfaction and curiosity. He felt a pang of hunger stir within him, a desire to claim her again, to taste the sweetness of her submission. Without a word, he strode back over to the bed, his feet carrying him with purpose. He dropped down beside her, his hand reaching out to brush against the wet folds of her sex. “Look at you,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, as he gazed upon the evidence of their passion. “So beautiful, so broken.” His fingers trailed down her thigh, leaving a path of dampness in its wake. Aegon's gaze lingered on the slick moisture coating Y/n's thighs, his mind racing with possibilities. He reached out, his fingers dipping into the warm pool of liquid, A low growl rumbled in his throat as he tossed the cloth aside, and latched his mouth to her cunt. His tongue darted out, tasting the sweet nectar that coated her sex.

Y/n's eyes fluttered closed, her body relaxing into the touch as she surrendered to his ministrations. With each pass of his tongue, Aegon felt himself becoming harder, hungrier for more.

He knew exactly what he wanted to consume her completely, to leave nothing but a hollow shell in his wake.His tongue delved deeper, probing the tender flesh of her inner walls.

Y/n's moans grew louder, her hips bucking upward in a desperate bid for more contact.

Aegon's hands slid up her thighs, his fingers wrapping around her waist as he held her in place. With a gentle tug, he pulled her toward him, his mouth closing over her cunt once more. This time, however, he didn't stop at mere licking instead, he began to suckle, drawing out every last drop of juice from her exhausted body. Y/n's cries escalated into screams as she teetered on the edge of another orgasm.

Her body shook and trembled, her nails digging deep into the sheets as she struggled to maintain control. But it was no use with one final, savage pull of his mouth, Aegon sent her tumbling over the precipice once more. As Y/n's body convulsed beneath his lips, Aegon felt a surge of triumph course through his veins.

He had pushed her to the limit, tested the boundaries of her endurance, and emerged victorious. The taste of her release was intoxicating, a heady elixir that left him craving more. With a satisfied growl, he lifted his head, his eyes locked on the ravished beauty before him.

Her face was flushed, her skin glowing with a soft, post-coital radiance. She looked… broken, yet somehow more alive than ever before. she gasped desperately as the stream of her squirt subsided looking up at Aegon with desire but she knew she had no place to ask for anything

Aegon's gaze held hers, his eyes burning with a fierce intensity. He could see the desperation, the longing, and something else a glimmer of hope, perhaps, or a hint of rebellion. Whatever it was, he reveled in it, feeding off her vulnerability like a starving man at a feast. Without breaking eye contact, he leaned forward, his lips brushing against her ear. “You want something,” he whispered, his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Something more.”

"I… I am yours your grace I am not to ask for things only to give them."

Aegon's grip on her waist tightened, his fingers digging deep into her skin as he pulled her closer. His lips grazed the curve of her neck. “No,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “That's not true.” With a subtle shift in position, he pressed his body against hers, his hardness throbbing with renewed urgency. “You're mine, yes,” he continued, his breath hot against her skin. His fingers danced across her abdomen, tracing the curves of her muscles as he searched for the perfect spot to ignite the flames anew. Finding it, he pressed his thumb into the sensitive clit, watching with satisfaction as Y/n's eyes fluttered closed and her chest rose with a soft gasp. Without warning, he shifted positions, his weight settling more heavily onto her as he claimed her mouth in a possessive kiss. His tongue plunged deep, claiming dominion over hers as he ravaged her lips with a ferocity that left her breathless. As they broke apart for air, Aegon's gaze locked onto hers, burning with an unspoken promise of pleasure and pain. "tell me what you want little bird." Aegon asked her,

Y/n giggled and excitedly spoke "… May I make two little requests my King?"

Aegon's eyebrows arched, a slow smile spreading across his face as he leaned in, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Two little requests, you say?” He paused, his fingers trailing down her cheek, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “Very well, little bird. Ask me.” His eyes gleamed with anticipation, the air thickening with tension as he waited for her words.

"it would please me… Give me so much pleasure, if my King put me over his knee… Spanked his little bird, fingered her hard, and then fucked her on her knees."

A low chuckle rumbled through Aegon's chest, his eyes flashing with excitement as he wrapped his arms around Y/n's waist, pulling her close. “Oh, little bird,” he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. “With pleasure.”

[shutupcrime]

I feel like so many problems people have with tv at the moment could be solved if we just went back to the good ole days of 20 episodes a season that’s just sixty percent filler and character development. Give the people what they want- less condensed story and more meaningless shenanigans

[rhaenyrathecruell]

“Aegon the realm’s delight” is the saddest line ever. Aegon wants to be a daughter so bad. To be coddled and gazed upon with love and affection rather than distain and fear. Rhaenyra wishes to be a son. She wants the loyalty everyone has to be unwavering. She wants to be feared and respected like a man. They are truly two sides of the same coin.

[robynnnn311]

nobody is making him say this he’s just saying it unprovoked

[iflipforrizzles]

Tweets

[nikinikori]

“My son, do not be over bold or rash; be cautious, keep within the bounds of propriety, and protect our home and family.”

— "The Odyssey" by Homer

[restinslices]

Cregan on the brain-

Him x Targaryen!Reader who is tryna convince him to ride their dragon with them and he is NOT having it

Cregan: I am not riding that thing

"Cregaaaannn 😔”

Cregan: Don't 'Cregaaaannn' me

He had hardly any screen time, but at least he had that shit on

[barbieaemond]

Genetics, chico. They never lie.

[idkyetxoxo]

Daeron Targaryen - Halves of the Same Soul

Summary - Twin siblings share an unshakable bond that blurs the line between love and obsession. Courtly intrigue, forbidden desires, and dangerous secrets simmer beneath the surface—where loyalty and power collide, and no one is safe from the flames.

Pairing - Daeron Targaryen x Targaryen reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2946

Masterlist for Daeron • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

Wherever Daeron went, I followed. As his twin sister, we were inseparable, two halves of the same whole. 

He wasn't just my brother; he was my other half in every sense. 

So when our mother decided he should go to Oldtown with our uncle, I couldn't bear the thought of being left behind. 

I begged and pleaded until she relented, agreeing that I could accompany him.

Like many of our Targaryen ancestors, the idea of marrying within our family was not foreign to us. Daeron and I had made it abundantly clear that we were ready to wed, eager to spend our lives together in the way of our kin. 

It felt natural, inevitable, as though our bond was written in the stars long before we were born.

Still, whispers spread throughout the realm of a possible match between me and Aemond, our older brother. Such talk was common in the courts, but my heart belonged to Daeron. 

One brother held my affection, and it wasn't Aemond.

"Princess, may I have this dance?" Lord Tyrell's voice cut through my conversation with Daeron and Gwayne. I glanced at the extended hand, sighing inwardly as my gaze flickered to the two men beside me. 

Gwayne smiled faintly, while Daeron's eyes remained fixed on me, unreadable.

"Of course, my lord," I replied with a polite smile, though exhaustion weighed on me. The night had been long, filled with dances and endless courtesies. 

Tonight was our name day, and yet, I was more worn out than celebratory.

As Lord Tyrell led me to the dance floor, he offered a charming smile. 

"Princess, you look absolutely exquisite this evening," he said smoothly, dipping me effortlessly in time with the music.

I returned his compliment with a gracious smile. "That is kind of you, my lord."

He twirled me around gracefully before continuing, "You are ten and six now if I am not mistaken?" His tone seemed casual, but I could sense there was more behind the question.

"I am, my lord," I answered, though I already felt a knot forming in my stomach. I wondered where this conversation was headed.

He smiled, a little too smugly for my liking. "Ah, the perfect age for a young lady to be wed. Some would say you're even a year or two past that ideal age," he said with a chuckle. 

I forced a smile, though his words stung, the humour entirely lost on me.

"An... interesting observation, my lord," I replied, trying to maintain a composed tone.

He was undeterred. "I only mean to say, Princess, that it may be time to consider your future. A union could be quite beneficial."

As he spoke, his grip on my waist tightened ever so slightly, enough to make me uneasy. His suggestion was no longer a polite inquiry—it felt more like an imposition.

"I am quite content as I am," I said, attempting to subtly pull away. But his hands only grew firmer, drawing me closer. 

A soft, involuntary whine escaped my lips as his fingers dug into my side.

"You are hurting me," I whispered, my voice barely audible above the music. He scoffed, rolling his eyes in dismissal, then leaned in closer to me, his breath hot against my ear.

"Remember this, Princess—you may wear a crown, but I am the son of the Lord of Highgarden and Warden of the South. It would be wise for you not to forget your place."

I kept my voice steady, ignoring his thinly veiled threat. "I would like you to let go of me," I said calmly, though I could feel my heart racing.

"I am offering you my hand in marriage," he continued, his tone impatient now. "And it is a favourable offer, one you would be wise to consider."

"It is a kind offer, my lord—" I began, but he cut me off, pulling me even closer, far too close for propriety. His face hovered inches from mine as he leaned in again, his voice a low whisper.

"Do not decline me, Princess. Together, we could achieve great things," he murmured, and before I could protest, he pressed a lingering kiss to the curve of my neck. I squirmed in discomfort, trying to free myself from his grasp.

"This is not proper," I insisted, attempting to pull back, but his hold remained unyielding.

"And yet here we are," he said, his voice full of arrogance as he tightened his grip.

As Lord Tyrell's fingers tightened around my waist, his smug expression only deepened. 

I attempted to pull away again, but it was as if he was determined to exert his control over me, his grip growing more possessive with each passing moment.

"I am offering you something far better than waiting around for your family to choose for you," he said, his voice dripping with arrogance. 

"Perhaps you think one of your brothers will come to your rescue? Daeron, perhaps?" He chuckled darkly, his breath hot against my ear. 

"Oh, I know the whispers, Princess. It's no secret you and your twin are unnaturally close."

I stiffened, my heart pounding as his words twisted the bond between Daeron and me into something vile, something inappropriate. 

"Do not speak of things you do not understand, my lord," I said coldly, trying to maintain my composure.

But Lord Tyrell only laughed, the sound low and mocking. 

"Oh, but I do understand, Princess. Very well, in fact. The Targaryens have always had... peculiar traditions, haven't they? A little too fond of keeping things in the family, if you ask me. But I suppose it's convenient when you have two brothers to choose from."

His words stung, like barbs digging into my skin. I felt a flush of anger rise in me, but I kept my face impassive, refusing to give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply his jabs had cut.

"You speak as if I have no will of my own, my lord," I replied, my voice steady despite the fury bubbling within me. "I make my own choices."

"Do you?" he sneered, pulling me even closer, his body pressing uncomfortably against mine. 

"Because from where I stand, it seems as though you're simply waiting for your family to marry you off like a broodmare. Aemond, Daeron—it's all the same, isn't it? Marry one brother, marry the other. Does it really matter which? Maybe your mother will flip a coin for you."

His laugh was cruel and biting, the insinuation laced with contempt. I felt a surge of nausea at his words. 

I had heard whispers before, rumours that clung to the shadow of our family's name like a curse, but to hear them spoken so brazenly to my face made my blood boil.

"That is enough," I said, my voice colder than ice. "I will not tolerate such disrespect, especially not from a lord of your standing."

But he only smirked, clearly enjoying the power he thought he wielded over me. 

"Come now, Princess. You should consider yourself lucky. If your brothers won't wed you, I could make a far better match. Imagine it—the daughter of dragons married to the future Lord of Highgarden. We could unite the Reach and your precious Targaryen bloodline in ways your family could never imagine."

He leaned in close again, his lips brushing against my ear as he whispered, "You may think you can keep hiding behind Daeron, but sooner or later, your brothers won't be able to protect you. Not from men like me."

The threat in his voice was unmistakable now, and my heart raced with both anger and fear. 

His fingers dug into my waist, his other hand creeping up to the small of my back, pulling me in so tightly I could barely breathe. 

I wanted to scream, to shove him away, but in the middle of the crowded hall, surrounded by lords and ladies, I was trapped. 

"I said let go of me," I hissed, no longer caring to mask the fury in my voice.

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect he had on me. "You act as though you have a choice in the matter, Princess. But we both know you'll be married off to the highest bidder, whether it's your brother or not. And when that day comes, you'll wish you had taken a man like me instead."

His arrogance was suffocating, the air between us thick with tension. 

I glanced over his shoulder, desperate to meet Daeron's gaze, and found his eyes locked onto us, his expression darkening with each passing second. 

He had been watching the entire time, his posture rigid as Gwayne continued speaking, oblivious to the storm brewing beside him.

Tyrell's mocking voice broke through my thoughts again. "Or perhaps it's Aemond you're holding out for?" he sneered, the taunt sharp. 

"I hear he's a real delight. Cold, brooding, but maybe that's your type. A marriage made for the histories, wouldn't you agree? I wonder, does he even look at you the way Daeron does?"

I couldn't contain my disgust any longer. 

"You are vile," I spat, finally managing to pull back enough to create some distance between us. "You speak of things that are far beyond your comprehension."

Lord Tyrell's smirk didn't falter. If anything, it widened, as though my outrage only spurred him on. 

"Oh, I comprehend perfectly, Princess. You Targaryens think you're above everyone else, that your blood makes you untouchable. But at the end of the day, you're just like any other woman—destined to be wed, controlled, and used for power. And believe me, I know how to use what's mine."

Lord Tyrell's smirk had turned predatory, his arrogance swelling with each moment I resisted him. 

I could feel my pulse quicken, but before I could respond, I saw Daeron out of the corner of my eye, rising from his seat, his face dark with fury. 

His normally calm and composed expression had twisted into something dangerous, his jaw set in a way that promised no leniency.

There was no question—he would tear the world apart for me, just as I would for him. 

We had never needed words to understand that. I felt the strength of our bond in that moment, a force as powerful as any dragon's fire.

"Is there a problem here, Lord Tyrell?" Daeron's voice was deceptively calm, but the iciness beneath it was unmistakable.

He was at my side in an instant, standing between me and Tyrell, his presence immediately shifting the dynamic. 

The crowd continued to swirl around us, oblivious to the tension mounting between the two men.

Tyrell straightened, his grip loosening slightly as Daeron's arrival forced him to back off—though not entirely. 

He maintained a cocky smile as if Daeron's presence was nothing more than a slight inconvenience.

"Prince Daeron," Tyrell said with mock deference, inclining his head but failing to mask the condescension in his tone. "Just having a dance with your lovely sister. A bit protective, are we?" 

He chuckled softly, though there was nothing friendly about the sound. "One might start to think you don't trust anyone else near her."

Daeron's eyes were dark, his stare unflinching. "My trust is earned, not given freely to men who have forgotten their manners." 

His voice was low, the threat subtle but unmistakable. "I suggest you step back before you say something you'll regret."

Tyrell scoffed, clearly unbothered by the warning. 

"Manners? I was only reminding the Princess of the realities of her position. Surely you understand, Prince Daeron, that marriage for someone like her—someone like you—is more about duty than sentiment. She will be wed to whomever best serves the realm. Or perhaps you believe your family's peculiar... preferences should continue unchecked?" 

His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement, clearly relishing the opportunity to provoke.

Daeron's lips curled into a dangerous smile, one that sent a shiver through me, though I knew it was not meant for me. 

"You are treading on dangerous ground, Tyrell," he said, stepping closer, his voice a low growl. "I would choose my next words carefully if I were you."

But Lord Tyrell was too arrogant to take heed. He glanced between Daeron and me, his smirk widening. 

"Oh, I've heard the rumours. Everyone has. King Viserys's precious twins, inseparable since birth. The realm has noticed how you look at her, Daeron." He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice but ensuring his words cut deep. 

"Tell me, do you plan to wed her yourself? Has she already been defiled? Or is Aemond your real competition?" His grin was sharp, mocking. 

"Two brothers fighting over their sweet sister. It's quite the tale for the ages, isn't it?"

I felt Daeron stiffen beside me, the tension between them thickening like a brewing storm. His hand clenched at his side, his knuckles turning white. 

For a moment, I feared he would strike Tyrell right there in front of everyone.

"You think you're clever, Tyrell," Daeron said, his voice dangerously low, his anger barely restrained. "But your ignorance will be your downfall. You overestimate your place in this world."

Tyrell's smile faltered for a moment, sensing the shift in Daeron's tone, but his arrogance wouldn't let him back down. 

"I overestimate nothing, Prince. It's you and your family who believe yourselves untouchable as if the world should bend to your will simply because of the blood in your veins. But one day, even your dragons won't be enough to protect you."

Daeron's eyes burned with fury now, his posture rigid with barely contained rage. 

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until they were nearly chest to chest, his voice a deadly whisper. "You dare speak to a Targaryen in such a manner? You think your title and your father's lands will protect you from the consequences of your insolence?"

Tyrell, to his credit, didn't back down, though I could see the slightest flicker of uncertainty cross his face. 

"I'm merely stating the obvious. We both know that she'll be wed to whomever your family chooses. If not Aemond, then perhaps me. The Reach would make a powerful ally, after all."

Daeron's smile faded completely, replaced by a look so cold it sent a chill through the air. "You will never lay a hand on her again. You speak as if you have a choice in this, but let me make something clear." 

He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper, though every word dripped with venom. 

"If you ever touch my sister again, or dare to insult her in my presence, I will see you hanged. And when your neck snaps beneath the rope, I'll have your body dragged through the streets and fed to the dogs, for that is all you'll be worth."

Tyrell's face paled slightly, though he quickly masked it with a tight smile, trying to maintain his composure. 

"A bold threat," he said, though his voice lacked its previous bravado. "But I doubt the court would allow such... savagery."

"You doubt too much, Lord Tyrell," Daeron said coldly, his eyes narrowing. "My family is not known for idle threats. You would do well to remember that." 

His hand lingered on the hilt of his sword, a subtle reminder of how easily this conversation could take a deadlier turn.

Tyrell glanced at Daeron's hand, clearly weighing his next move. 

Finally, he gave a forced laugh, stepping back slightly to regain his space. "No need for dramatics, Prince Daeron. I was merely making conversation. A misunderstanding, nothing more."

Daeron didn't move, his gaze still fixed on Tyrell as if daring him to say more. 

"Then let me make myself perfectly clear—there will be no misunderstanding next time. You will not speak of my sister again, nor will you ever touch her. Do so, and I will end you. And no amount of titles or alliances will save you."

Tyrell swallowed, his confidence visibly shaken now. He straightened his tunic, his smile brittle. 

"Of course. I wouldn't dream of offending." He turned to me with a stiff nod, his arrogance noticeably diminished. "Princess."

Without waiting for further acknowledgement, he took his leave, his steps quicker than before, as if eager to escape the tension that still hung in the air.

As soon as he was gone, I let out a breath I didn't realize I had been holding, my heart still racing from the confrontation. 

Daeron remained tense beside me, his gaze lingering on Tyrell's retreating form as if waiting for him to turn back and make another foolish remark.

"Daeron," I whispered, touching his arm gently to pull him from his thoughts.

He turned to me, his expression softening slightly as he met my gaze. "Are you all right?" His voice was low, filled with concern.

I nodded, though my body still trembled slightly from the encounter. "Thank you," I said softly. "I didn't know what to do. He..."

Daeron's jaw tightened again, but he forced himself to stay calm for my sake. "He's a fool, and he'll regret this. I swear it." 

He glanced toward the hall where Tyrell had disappeared, his expression dark once more. "If he ever touches you again, I will make good on my promise. The dogs will feast on his remains."

I believed him.

"You know," he said quietly, his tone softening further, "the realm may think they can decide our futures for us. But as long as we have each other, nothing else matters."

I smiled up at him, the warmth of his presence chasing away the cold that had gripped me earlier. "No one else," I whispered. "Just us."

And as he wrapped his arm protectively around me, I knew with certainty that, there was no force in the world strong enough to sever the bond between us. 

We were more than siblings—more than Targaryens bound by blood. 

We were halves of the same soul, unbreakable, and as long as we had each other, no one could tear us apart.

A/n - I know I have severely lacked in writing for Daeron recently but I've been so busy, hopefully this makes up for it <3

Daeron tag list - @alyssa-dayne

[hed184]

Sunfyre moved his wing to shield Aegon from Vhagar's fire.

He landed on his wounded belly, which means even though he fell out of the sky backwards, he angled his body to avoid crushing Aegon.

Eventually, when Aemond found him, he curled up around his rider.