#Jace acting as head of House Targaryen

[kjwaikiki]

Hotd Jace centric idea:

Jace did not react to Ulf and Hugh Hammer well and I can understand why. Also I know what they do in the books so while it looks like the tv show is making them more nuanced and palatable to the audience Jace is still my #1.

That being said I have an idea. Jace is a big brother, in my mind that is a very big part of who he is, and now one of his brothers is dead and the rest have been or will be sent away. He is effectively alone being kept away from the war with only Baela for company, but even Baela can’t be there very often as she has to patrol.

This brings me to my idea. Ulf and Hugh need someone to teach them how to be dragon riders and with no one else available it falls to Jace. Jace is not very happy about this but he is dutiful so he will do it. However, Jace is not the most patient teacher and often snaps at Hugh and Ulf when they don’t pick things up very quickly. Eventually Ulf and Hugh get sick of this and impatient to actually mount their dragons (Jace has mostly been teaching them Valyrian, how to direct their dragon, and the history of House Targaryen). Somehow they are able to mount Silverwing and Vermithor but things start to go wrong. Hugh can’t control Vermithor and Ulf is hanging onto Silverwing by a thread and bloodying his hands in the process.

Jace comes to their rescue and is able to corral Silverwing and Vermithor to land. He goes off on Hugh and Ulf berating them for being so stupid and lecturing them on how they could have been killed or killed someone else and how dragons are not pets or tools. He ends the lecture by telling them to show him their hands. Jace is not pleased to see Ulf’s bloody palms and while Hugh’s hands are better off (he has more callouses than Ulf) they are still scratched up. Jace goes to his saddle bags, pulls out some ointment and bandages and treats their wounds.

This shifts something in their dynamic as Ulf and Hugh are surprised that Jace is taking the time and effort to take care of their wounds. Jace is mostly just annoyed at the two men’s foolishness but doesn’t see anything odd about looking after them as they are his responsibility. Before he is done Jace states that he will not tell anyone what they tried to do and he’ll make the necessary excuses to the Queen but he expects them both to never do something so foolish again and for them to actually pay attention to their lessons now.

Ulf and Hugh do go to lessons now and are a bit bolder with Jace now. This means that they are both more likely to ask questions now than they were before. Ulf because he now believes Jace will help him and Hugh because he is no longer afraid Jace will report him to his Queen mother for every grievance. Jace answers all their questions even if some of his answers are curt.

I imagine their relationship shifts even more when one of them asks Jace why they need to learn this. If it’s Ulf he is asking out of genuine curiosity and if it is Hugh it is because he is annoyed and slightly confrontational. Jace gives them two answers the first is that the Queen has accepted them as dragon riders and this has accepted them into House Targaryen, they will have an education worthy of House Targaryen (Rhaenyra did not mean to do this but I think Jace would have a little better perspective on this matter, he would know that after the war they can’t just send them back to what they were before). The second reason is that they will be going to war and as Crown Prince he will see them prepared, he will not allow another dragon rider to perish to Vhagar’s jaws.

This makes both Hugh and Ulf look at Jace differently. Suddenly they don’t see an arrogant and perpetually annoyed princeling, instead they see a young man who has lost his brother and is desperately fighting to keep what remains of his family alive. For a moment they see how afraid Jace actually is but they also see how determined he is, at that moment they swear their is fire in the prince’s eyes.

Ulf is much more willing to listen and follow Jace after that and sings his praises to anyone who will listen. This causes Jace to soften a bit towards Ulf. However, Hugh is still wary of Jace. The big revelation their relationship is when, for some reason, Ulf, Hugh, and Jace get drunk together. Ulf is passed out so it is just Hugh and Jace still drinking. Hugh has some liquid courage in him so he asks if the reason Jace doesn’t like them is because of their silver hair.

Jace is a bit taken aback but the drink has actually mellowed his temper and looking at Hugh’s face he can’t seem to muster up any anger. Instead, Jace tells Hugh that he grew up with Aegon and Aemond and that when they were young he used to follow after Aegon everywhere, that he idolized his uncle. Of course later after Driftmark any goodwill vanished but they were still family. Now, his brother and Princess Rhaenys are dead because of Aemond and Jace has no doubt that the rest of his family will follow if the Greens have their way. Jace goes on to say that he doesn’t hate them but that they have dragons and the Targaryen looks, if the uncles he grew up with could betray them that badly what is to say that two strangers won’t do the same. In a way Hugh and Ulf are even more dangerous because they have no reason to be loyal and their dragons could kill them all much easier than Vhagar who is all the way in King’s Landing and who everyone is watching out for.

Hugh is a bit taken aback. He asks Jace if he believes they will betray him because they aren’t true born. Jace actually snorts and says that he isn’t that much of a hypocrite. He goes on to say that he doesn’t know them and that regardless of his own personal feelings he has to protect his family (the unspoken bit is that he has to protect them if no one else will, Daemon is not here and Rhaenyra is not making the best decisions in who to trust at this point in time).

There is a shift between Hugh and Jace, a new found understanding. If nothing else Hugh respects Jace more now than he did before. Jace continues to train them and as the time when they set out to war get closer he becomes more exacting. Ulf and Hugh don’t complain as they know now that Jace is trying to give them the best chance of coming back alive. Right before they fly out Jace presents them with expensive riding gear in shades of black and weaved through with chain mail, expensive leather gloves to protect their hands, new boots, dragon glass dagger, and small pins made of Valyrian steel in the shape of a three headed dragon with rubies for eyes.

Ulf and Hugh are touched and Ulf hugs Jace while Hugh gives him a respectful nod. Jace gives him an awkward nod back and tells them to watch out for arrows and to remember that dragons are not pets or tools. They part there and Ulf and Hugh go to war where they are actually two of Jace’s most outspoken supporters. A lot of people are doubtful about Rhaenyra’s reign and Ulf and Hugh try to reassure everyone by saying that Jace will be a great king.

I like to think that Ulf and Hugh do well and eventually the question is brought to Rhaenyra about what will be done about them. Addam is going to be Corlys’ heir but what about Ulf and Hugh? Rhaenyra is very vague and just says that they will be rewarded. Jace however speaks up and says that there will be empty keeps and lordships available after this, and that as dragon riders of House Targaryen they should be rewarded with a keep.

This sparks a fight between Jace and Rhaenyra as she thinks that giving Ulf and Hugh lordships wills upset their allies and that it is enough that Ulf and Hugh will be given gold and possibly stewardship of a keep. Jace points out that they can’t just expect Ulf and Hugh to be content with a few gold dragons and being hidden away in a keep after the war is done. By her actions Rhaenyra has ensured that Hugh and Ulf will always be linked to House Targaryen, and giving them keeps and a title mitigates them as a political threat as it keeps them content and acknowledges their service to the crown. Jace and Rhaenyra go back and forth a bit with the argument ending in a stalemate and neither person happy.

Somehow the argument reaches Ulf and Hugh on the frontline and while neither are happy with Rhaenyra but everything they hear about how Jace defended them just cements their loyalty and good opinion of him (the tale has been a little distorted by the time it reaches Ulf and Hugh. Now it sounds as if Rhaenyra wanted them to be sent back to where they came from with a few gold coins while Jace pushed for them to be elevated to Lord Paramounts). It also helps that everything Jace has taught them, all his advice, and even his gifts has saved both Ulf and Hugh’s life more than a few times from an arrow or an ambush while they have been at war.

I imagine that the story progresses with Ulf and Hugh becoming more and more loyal and devoted to Jace while Jace has to constantly defend Ulf and Hugh from other people (at some point Jace has assumed responsibility for the two men, they aren’t his brothers or even family but they are part of House Targaryen and as Crown Prince he has a duty to see them taken care of). At the same time Ulf and Hugh grow more disillusioned and discontent with Rhaenyra with only their loyalty to Jace tying them to the Queen’s cause.

Of course eventually Jace dies at the Battle of the Gullet and everything falls apart. Rhaenyra’s response to her heirs death is to hole up in Dragonstone which endears her to no one but least of all to Ulf and Hugh. The two men want blood and they blame the Triarchy and Rhaenyra for Jace’s death. In their minds Rhaenyra should have ordered someone else to go, gone herself, or provided more dragons and ships. It boggles their minds that Jace and Vermax were brought down by a few arrows and so they have constructed a narrative where it is not only the Triarchy’s fault but also Rhaenyra’s and the Blacks.

Some men, like Cregan Stark, still follow Rhaenyra to honor Jace. However Ulf and Hugh resent Rhaenyra and eventually betray the Blacks. In the end they twist everything Jace said and did for them and interpret it as them having just as much right to the throne as Rhaenyra. Jace did say that they were dragon riders of House Targaryen and Jace taught them everything they know about dragons and House Targaryen, surely one of them would be a worthier heir than Rhaenyra or one of the Greens. Inevitably they die.

I don’t really know where I was or am going with this. I just really like the idea of a Jace who comes into his own by teaching and looking after someone else after all his brothers are either dead or sent away. I like the idea of Jace being a good King and leader and that many people followed Rhaenyra because of Jace. That begs the question though of what happens when one of the big reasons people supported you is gone?

[entitled-fangirl]

Tradition.

Cregan Stark x Pregnant!reader

Summary: the reader and Cregan go to King's Landing to support her nephew, Luke's, Velaryon claim. She goes into early labor away from the North.

Warnings: Aegon is his own warning, body shaming, talks of brothels and stuff, labor, blood, death, fighting, all that stuff.

A/n: Based on an ask! I'll proofread later 😭

Masterlist

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Cregan held out his hand to help his very pregnant wife out of the carriage. 

He absolutely hated riding by carriage. It seemed pointless when you could ride a horse instead. But when summoned to King's Landing by King Viserys with his Targaryen wife to join the rest of her family, he had to guarantee her safety on the travel by any means necessary.

Alicent's face lit up at the sight of her daughter, practically running over Cregan to get to her. She embraced the pregnant woman tightly, "Oh, my love! How you've changed!" 

Y/n hugged her mother back just as firmly with a smile, "I've missed you, mother."

Alicent pulled away and admired her grown girl, "King's Landing is better with you here." Only then did Alicent notice Cregan, "Oh. Lord Stark."

Cregan bowed his head politely, "My queen."

"Cregan has been eager to see King's Landing again," Y/n chirped in, "He has only been a few times."

Alicent's brows lifted, "Really? I wouldn't have thought that."

He nodded, "I could've been patient enough to wait until after the birth, but alas, when the King calls, you answer."

Alicent gave a forced smile, "Right. Of course. The birth." She looked to her daughter, "How far along are you, my dear?"

"Nearing eight moons now," she said nervously with a hand on her swollen stomach.

Alicent didn't miss the equally nervous and protective look in Cregan's eyes.

…

Dinner that night was beyond tense. 

What was joy for Viserys was misery for everyone else.

Watching the king decay at the table and the rest of them squabble over trivial matters that seemed of great importance.

"A toast to the young princes and their betrothed."

Aegon leaned over to his nephew Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

A glare was sent his way by Jace and Baela.

Y/n caught on and quickly looked to Aemond, who sipped his wine with no reaction.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume?" Aegon continued. "At least, in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?"

Jace's jaw clenched, "You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

"Aegon." Y/n hissed through her teeth across the table.

His head immediately snapped to his sister in annoyance, "What?"

"Let it alone."

He scoffed lightly, "What do you mean? I'm only asking." He gained a grin, "It's not like I have to ask Lord Stark that. Look at the state of you!" He gestured to her swollen belly.

Cregan's grip on his fork tightened, turning his knuckles white. 

She placed a hand over her stomach and grimaced, "At least I was able to find a husband that wanted me. Mother had to force you to marry the only girl around, and that was Helaena."

Aegon gave an incredible glare, one that his sibling shot back.

Aemond became amused.

"Let us not fight at the table," Alicent reprimanded lightly.

Y/n looked to Jace, who gave a small nod of gratitude.

Silence filled the room until the King's long monologue of the need for peace in the house. 

Rhaenyra and Alicent gave small and seemingly back-handed toasts but Y/n was too set on the continuous mischievous look in her brother's eye.

And she called it right when he stood and moved to whisper in Baela's ear.

It was clear that it was muttered with the intention of riling up Jace, which it did quite well.

He stood up in anger, slamming his fist on the table.

Cregan, who had remained entirely silent thus far, instinctually moved a hand across his wife as if shielding her and the child.

The tense toasts only got worse from there.

Luckily, the music seemed to drown out the intensity, as well as Jace's good gesture of faith in dancing with Helaena. 

Y/n leaned over to Aemond, "Brother."

His brow raised as his eye traveled to look at her.

"It has been… long since I've seen you. I see you've faired quite well."

He hummed lightly, "I see you've… managed."

She could feel Cregan's intense gaze from behind her, "Wh…what do you mean?"

Aemond smirked and leaned in to where only the two Starks could hear him, "Inpregnanted by a brute-"

Cregan's jaw clenched so hard he feared for his teeth. His voice was a hushed whisper, but still held furiously to it, "Watch your words."

Y/n held Cregan's shoulder, "Let us not do this here."

Aemond smirked with Cregan sighed and leaned back in his chair.

When Viserys was escorted from the room due to his pain, Y/n decided to leave as well, and Cregan behind her.

They claimed a pregnancy illness and Rhaenyra smirked, knowing she'd used the same card many times.

…

Cregan helped her into bed, "I don't understand their need to crawl under everyone's skin like beetles."

She sighed, "They've never known life outside of a castle, Cregan. They've never been told no, and they never will. It's best to let it go."

"They mock us both. My name has been through dirt, blood, and tears, and I do not care, but yours?" He scoffed, "I will not stand by the next time you are mocked."

"It is only for a little while longer," she rebutted.

"Know that I do this for you, and only you, my love."

She smiled, "That's all I ask."

…

"The north has done a number on you, really," Aegon said as he appeared at her side.

She tilted her head, "I don't know what you mean."

He shrugged, "You're…" he then gestured his arms widely. "I dunno… well indulged?"

She pushed down the tears that welled up in her eyes, "Why do you care?"

He scoffed and leaned in towards her, "You know how many friends of mine asked for whores that looked like you? Many."

"And?"

"And?" He asked mockingly. "And? Who wants to fuck a whore that looks like you now?"

Her jaw went slack for a moment, completely shocked by his words. 

Finally, with now watery eyes, she spoke. "You're the worst kind of man, Aegon."

"Oh? And what kind is that?"

A sudden punch came from nowhere, landing on Aegon's jaw and sending him to the ground. 

Cregan stood over the man's body, a predatory look in his eyes and a murderous tone in his voice, "One that can't defend his fucking words."

Y/n pulled Cregan back, "Stop!"

He wanted to fight against her, but he knew better. His shoulders rolled back and he stood tall. 

She cursed under her breath as she took in exactly what had unfolded, "They could have your head for this, Cregan."

"Only if your brother wishes to defend his words against me again," Cregan scoffs as he looks down at the man.

Aegon sits up and huffs, wiping his nose that begins to leak blood. "Northern brute-"

"-Aegon!" She reprimands. 

Cregan glared at Aegon for a while, then scoffed and walked off a few steps to calm himself.

Aegon stands on shaky legs as he glares at his sister, "I liked you better when you lacked a guard dog."

Cregan immediately turned back to the man with a look that said he was ready to murder him. As he stepped forward, Aegon stepped back as he began to regret his words.

"Take me to our chambers, Cregan," she lightly pleaded. 

The wolf of the north only stared for a while before nodding, "Lead the way."

She sighed as she gave a final look to her brother. "Clean yourself up. You look like shit."

…

Standing behind Rhaenyra, Y/n and Cregan whispered idly to Daemon when someone would comment something out of hand. 

Luke's legitimacy was coming into question, and though the Starks knew the truth, they would not dare pry the inheritance from the boy's hands. That was not their place. So next to Daemon they stood as petitions were made to and against him.

Daemon leaned in to speak to Y/n, "how far along did you say you were?"

"Eight moons now," she whispered back.

Daemon let out a surprised grunt. "You're to have the child here then? That seems unlike you."

"Uncle, my father insisted I come, and I have. Whether the child is born in the North or the South, it is a Targaryen and Stark all the same."

He smiled lightly, "I suppose you're right. If you wish for someone to accompany Lord Stark to the dragon pit to choose a proper egg for the child, only say the word."

Cregan, who had been listening quietly, now leaned in, "I am to choose an egg?"

"It is tradition," she explained. "It can be before, during, or after the birth, but the father chooses the egg. If… If you would wish to continue that tradition."

He grinned, "I'd be delighted to try."

When Vaemond Valaryon stepped up forward to speak his mind, the Starks quieted. 

He spoke in anger, trying to take Luke's right. 

Y/n looked past him to her mother and siblings. 

Aegon looked like he'd rather be doing anything else. He didn't care the outcome of this ordeal. Aemond watched intensely with his one eye, taking in every detail. And Helaena… sweet Helaena. 

She needed to visit her and the children soon.

"And her children are…" Vaemond paused.

The room stilled.

"Say it," Daemon whispered under his breath.

"Her children are BASTARDS!" He screamed.

Y/n jumped back in surprise as Cregan's steady hands caught her waist.

"And she. Is. a. Whore." Vaemond finished.

The air in the room stilled and became stuffy as the tension reached an all time high.

Viserys stood on unstable legs as he unsheathed his dagger, "I will have… your tongue for this."

A sudden slice moved through the air, and half of Vaemond's head was gone.

Blood splattered across the ones' nearest, meaning the Starks. Cregan let out an annoyed grunt.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon said proudly as he lowered his sword.

Y/n rested a hand over her swollen stomach with a shaky hand, trying to ignore the blood that began to seep into her clothes. 

Cregan leaned down to whisper in her ear, "Are you alright?"

"I… I want to go," she shuddered back.

He nodded, looking around as the crowd began to whisper amongst themselves. He held a hand firmly against her back as she became to let out an uncomfortable whine.

"Cregan, please," she whispered.

"Alright. Alright, let's go, my love," he said as he tried to move her through the crowd.

But her legs faltered as she let out a pained noise.

He caught her in panic, "Are you in pain?"

"The babe…"

No longer caring for proper manners, Cregan stood tall and looked over the crowd. "MOVE!" He yelled out.

The people quieted and moved as Cregan helped his wife through the room and out of the doors.

Alicent only saw a brief glimpse of her daughter's silver hair go through the doors, and she was on edge. She ran through the crowd to follow behind them.

He held onto his wife's arm with one hand and held her waist with the other, trying to support her as they moved to their chambers.

Y/n let out a gasp, and her water broke.

Alicent caught up to them and grabbed her daughter's other arm. "It's alright. You're alright." She turned to a servant and ordered him to get the maester. 

Sweat began to break out of the poor woman's forehead as the weight of what is happening began to settle. 

Once on her bed, Cregan refused to move from her side, Alicent as well. Alicent rubbed soothingly across her daughter's forehead as Cregan paced at the foot of the bed.

The maester and midwives came quickly, immediately moving to the woman in labor.

"My lord, it is best if you remain outside," one of them said.

Cregan's brows furrowed in confusion. "Out… Outside?"

Alicent chipped in, "It is tradition. The husband waits outside of the doors."

He stared at Y/n in thought. Tradition. How that word weighed on them like boulders. 

"Alright."

…

He tried to ignore the sounds of her cries as he stood in the corridor. 

Nothing could ease his worries. 

In the North, it was not uncommon to be by their wife's side. 

This was unusual to him.

"My lord," a midwife questioned as she poked her head from the room.

His eyes widened, "Is she alright?"

"The child is… having trouble, my lord."

That was Cregan's greatest fear. The maester in Winterfell had spent endless hours with Cregan to determine a plan for if such a thing were to occur. Now he was without a plan entirely.

"Alright?" He finally breathed.

"What do you wish for us to do?"

"What options do I have?" He spoke barely above a whisper.

The midwife gave him an empathetic look. "We can cut the child out-"

"-No." He was quick with his answer, the very thought of taking a blade to her seeming the greatest sin he could commit.

"Um… it will be painful, but we can help her force the child out."

"Is that safe for her?"

The midwife shrugged lightly, "More than any other option I can give you."

He nodded.

She gave a weak smile and moved back into the room, but Cregan caught the door before it closed and forced his way in.

At the sight of his wife, he felt as if a blade went into his own stomach.

She was crying in pain, the midwives forcing her hips down as she tried to move away from the pain, as if that was possible.

At the sight of him, her entire face relaxed, "Cregan…"

He moved to her side, "I'm here. How can I help?"

Alicent glared slightly at him. 

"They won't… I can't…" Y/n whimpered out.

"They won't what?" He looked up to Alicent, "What are they doing?"

"She wishes to get up. We cannot have her standing," she explained.

Cregan was thrown off by that. "She cannot? W… Why ever not?" When in labor with him, Cregan's mother was said to have walked the length of Winterfell 3x over. 

"It hurts… please, Cregan…" 

He nodded as his expression hardened. "Let her stand."

The maester shook his head, "She is nearing the labor. She should not-"

"-She wishes to stand. She will stand."

Alicent spoke up. "Lord Stark-"

"-This is my wife and child. If she wishes to walk, then she will," he barked. 

A fire lit behind the queen's eyes. "She will not."

The midwives watched the tension grow.

Finally, Cregan calmly reached down and began to help his wife sit up.

Alicent cursed under her breath and grabbed Cregan's wrist in an effort to stop him.

Cregan's eyes slowly moved up to Alicent's face as anger began to overcome him. 

But she was first to speak. "You are no longer in the North. You abide by our traditions when you are here."

He'd heard enough of that word for a lifetime. 

His words came out sharper than he intended, but he cared little to soften them. "Your family is made of vipers and cutthroats. When I take my wife and child back to Winterfell, it will truly be a miracle if you ever see them again, for I will not let her sit and be neglected and tormented. I am a brute, but I am not without heart. Now, Let. Go."

Alicent reluctantly let go.

Cregan helped Y/n sit, and she immediately felt relief. "I want to walk," she panted.

He nodded, practically holding her up as she stood. "We will walk the corridor and return." His voice had no room for argument.

Once they paced the corridor a few times, she was returned to the bed, only to find that Alicent had left. Cregan only cared about it when he noticed the tinge of sadness that moved over his laboring wife.

But he was quick to fill the gap. As she moved back to the bed, Cregan sat behind her and held her against his chest, messaging anywhere that began to ache.

The labor came soon after that. Cregan held her close as she screamed in pain and gripped his wrists. She surely left bruises.

"The babe is crowning, princess," the midwife exclaimed. "Keep pushing."

The pain came in waves that made her see white. 

Cregan began to panic when the midwives gave one another a look. "What?"

"She is not pushing hard enough."

Y/n began to cry in frustration.

"She is pushing," Cregan sighed. "What else is there to do?"

One of them reached up and began to push on her stomach, prompting the princess to cry harder as the pain multiplied. 

"Allow me," Cregan shifted her in his hold and carefully placed his hands where the midwife had, slowly applying pressure to the same place.

As Y/n screamed and cried, Cregan placed assuring kisses against her neck and cheek and whispered calming words to her. "You're doing well."

If the pain had not been so bad, she may have blushed.

…

Cregan held the baby close to his chest as his wife slept.

"My lord," a servant finally entered and interrupted the silence. "The queen has requested to see the child."

An annoyed feeling washed over the man. Of course, she wished to. 

The servant took note of his changed demeanor, "I can take-"

"-No," he countered. "I will go myself. Should my wife awaken in my absence, give her anything she desires."

His heavy feet stormed from the room and he walked to the queen's chambers.

Alicent turned and shock overcame her. "Lord Stark. I did not expect you to-"

"-Neither did I."

The two stared at one another for a moment before Alicent's eyes wandered to the bundle in the large lord's arms. "Healthy?"

"The very picture."

She nodded, unsure of what to say next.

"A boy," Cregan stated.

"A boy?" Alicent whispered. Any thoughts of annoyance were past to her, and she walked to the lord and eagerly looked at the child.

The baby was indeed the picture of health. Bright purple eyes looked up at the two. Dark hair sat atop his head.

"He's quite northern," she stated.

"Indeed." Cregan was sure she meant it as an insult, but he could care less. The thought of such a gift as a northern boy filled him with pride. 

"Congratulations, Lord Stark."

He nodded. "Your daughter is fine as well."

Alicent moved away from Cregan and sat down. "That is a blessing. To all of us. She will be a perfect mother."

"Aye, she will."

The tension between the two was evident, but they wouldn't let it dull the excitement of the newest addition to the line.

"I should return to my wife."

"Please, do."

Cregan moved to the door.

"Lord Stark?" She asked.

"Yes?"

Alicent stared at him and then the babe. "Thank you. For caring for her. And now him. You are a better man than most."

Cregan sighed. It wasn't a compliment, but it was something. "Thank you, my queen. She will want for nothing until my dying breath."

"This is all I wished for her."

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[floatyflowers]

Dark! House Of The Dragon x Game of Thrones! Reader|Part 3

<<< Part 2

Jacaerys is in love with the idea of being a father.

In fact he took Aemma riding on the back of Vermax right after she was born just like his great grandmother Alyssa did with Viserys, just for excitement.

Rhaenyra, loves Aemma and teared up when you named the baby after her mother, she even thought about wedding Aegon III to her when they reached adulthood.

After arriving to King's Landing, the first thing you see is Aemond training while you stand beside Jace and Luke watching him, as you hold your sleeping daughter in your arms.

Jacearys felt jealous on how Aemond took away your attention.

Despite, the real reason why you are impressed by Aemond's skills, is because it reminded you of your uncle/father Jaime, you always loved to watch him train.

While training Aemond notices you and stops, eyeing you and the baby intensely which made you uncomfortable.

All Aemond could feel was anger and jealousy, because you were supposed to be his.

When Vaemond arrives, you prepare yourself and your daughter, you show up dressed in the colors of House Velaryon.

"Vaemond has forgotten that Lady Rhaenys descends from the house Baratheon on her mother's side, Also my daughter, princess Aemma..."

You stand in the middle of the throne room, holding your daughter up proudly for everyone to see her white hair and purple eyes.

Even if you and Jace are the children of Harwin Strong, but your daughter inherited Rhaenyra's appearance, your mother's genes skipped a generation.

Vaemond, decided to insult you and call you and your mother 'whores' as you return back to your husband and mother's side.

Of course, in a spin of seconds, Daemon sliced the Velaryon's man head in half, as Jacaerys blocked yours and Aemma's view.

However, Jace was smirking, happy at what his stepfather did.

Later that day at the feast, Jace and Luke made a promise to you that they would behave and ignore whatever Aemond and Aegon say.

When Jace asked to dance with you at the feast, you objected, insisting on him dancing with Helaena instead.

Aegon and Aemond thought that your marriage wasn't the best with your twin due to how you turned Jace down.

Things escalated when the pig gets placed on the table and Luke whispers a joke in your ear at the exact moment, making you laugh.

Even though the joke wasn't about Aemond, but Luke knew exactly what he was doing as he smirked at his uncle...taunting him.

"Final tribute, to the health of my nephews, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey, each of them handsome, wise...and Strong"

Before Jace and Luke could even think about getting angry, you raise a glass with a huge smile on your face.

"Indeed, Uncle, we are strong afterall, my brothers and I descend from the two purest Valyrian houses, Targaryen and Velaryon, my mother is also the heir to the seven kingdoms"

Your grandfather Tywin taught you how to act wisely in such situations.

Aemond wished to speak more, but one look from Daemon was enough to let him know that you are a red line.

However, Aemond only gave you one last stare, as if to make a promise.

A promise where he will have you as a wife.

Part 4>>>

[fabled-fiction]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him. 

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?” 

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?” 

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw. 

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards. 

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

-

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety. 

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…” 

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

heyy, I just saw the first episode of season two and I’m completely destroyed. I need to read something with Jacaerys in which reader gives him a hug after what happened 🫶🏻

Request: Helloooo! I saw you were open to requests sooo with this episode- how about instead of Baela being the one to take Jace to Rheanyra, its reader who had been waiting for him since he landed? Jace x reader relationship is up to you!

I have written this a few weeks ago, but let's do a small blurb. Seeing Jace break was just so sad. Grab your tissues 🤧

Warnings: mention of character death, grief

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

On the journey back to Dragonstone, Jacaerys swallowed back his tears. Vermax could feel that his rider was in pain, but he stayed focused on flying home. 

Although you couldn’t predict when they would arrive, you knew Jacaerys would fly home immediately upon receiving the letter. 

You greeted him outside when he landed, but Jacaerys refused to meet your eyes, focussing on princely duties because he could not bear to face his role as brother and son in that moment. He spoke like a prince, asking to be taken to the Queen so he could give her his report. 

Without speaking a word, you walked him to Rhaenyra’s chambers. The guards opened the door for you, nodding their heads at the prince. As you stepped inside, Rhaenyra turned at the sound of your footsteps on the stone floor. 

You bowed to the Queen, casting a last glance on Jacaerys before you left the room. ‘’You know where to find me,’’ you whispered to him, your voice barely audible. 

He didn’t respond. 

While he spoke to his mother about the Vale and the North, Jacaerys was trying to remain professional and keep his composure. He needed to stay strong for her. His voice was steady until he mentioned the North. The name of Cregan Stark brought back the images of the northman delivering the news of Lucerys’s death, causing Jacaerys to choke up on his words.

Rhaenyra held her eldest and they cried together. 

When he thought the tears were over, Jacaerys left his mother’s chambers. Servants were politely nodding their head at him on his way to his own chambers, a veil of sympathy on their faces. But Jacaerys paid them no attention as his emotions were threatening to spill again. 

As promised, you were sitting on his — your — chambers when he stepped in, waiting for him. You stood when hearing the door, and he broke down completely, his body shaking with sobs as he collapsed into your arms. 

You held Jacaerys tightly as he sobbed uncontrollably, his grief pouring out with each shuddering breath. 

You always knew him as the strong son of Princess Rhaenyra who held his head high and never let anything affect him. The strength he usually exuded was gone, replaced by the vulnerability of a boy who had lost his brother. It was gut-wrenching to see him cry, his hands clutching at your dress to anchor himself through the storm of his emotions.

‘’He died because of me,’’ he whispered between sobs, his voice raw with pain. ‘’It was my idea to go on dragonback instead of sending ravens.’’ 

Guilt laced his voice, and you pulled his head back, seeing his eyes red and swollen. You knew no words would stop his guilt. He would have to live with his for the rest of his life. But you could try to show him he was not entirely at fault. It was Vhagar at the commands of Aemond targaryen who killed Lucerys. Not him.

‘’Mayhaps it was your idea, but you couldn’t have known Aemond would be at Storm’s End asking for support from Borros Baratheon. He is the one responsible for this barbarous act,’’ you said, holding his gaze.

—

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[vividxpages]

°‧⋆.࿔*:･ ocean-touched, sun-kissed･: * ࿔. ⋆‧°

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 5400

summary: Jacaerys and you are on vacation with his family. A shared shower before dinner is tempting you to indulge in your constant hunger for each other.

warnings: modern au, established relationship, domestic fluff, vacation bliss, making out, sexual content, oral (f receiving), gentle smut

a/n: this can be read as a standalone, but the story takes place after “no parents, big house”.

Thank you for the love this little story has been getting, it means a lot to me! <3    

       

-⋆ ˚｡⋆୨🐚🌊🍹୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

In this summer, you started to believe you were meant to be loved under the sun, surrounded by the perfect blue of the sea and your love, Jacaerys.

Jace and you had been inseparable for the past few days, insufferable with how clingy and happy you were in each other’s presence.

Having been invited to join the Targaryen-Strong’s vacation had its many perks.

After a long flight where you mostly had been napping against Jace’s arm, you had found a paradise of sandy beaches and clear blue sea waiting for you.

You were sharing a master bedroom like his parents did - a luxury compared to his twin size bed back at home, although you were always gravitating towards each other anyways.

So far, you had woken up every morning and gone to sleep together every night, the sunny meantime filled with laughter and kisses that tasted like the cocktails you drank, endless dinners by the ocean and late-night talks in the dark. You went on walks by the ocean, collecting seashells and little stones that matched each other’s eye color, him always taking pictures with his polaroid camera of you. And you of him, determined to keep every single one forever.

You had sat on his shoulders while battling his siblings in a fierce water war. You had swayed together in the privacy of your room, your lips trying to seek out and kiss every little freckle of his that the sun brought out. And you had spent time with his family, going snorkeling and shopping in the local small town, selecting friendship bracelets for each other.

It was a good summer.

The day was sluggishly drifting along, the high temperature making it impossible to be productive. Jace and you had gotten some light lunch at the beach club near the holiday home and taken a quick dip into the ocean before walking back to nap by your own private pool.

Now, you were laying together on a big lounge bed by the pool, naked legs tangled together, his sun-kissed skin warm against yours. Both of your swimwear was still drying from earlier and you sighed happily as you laid with your head on his chest, one of his arms slung around you while the other rested on your waist. To your feet waited your open book and a plate of half-eaten watermelon you had shared before falling asleep.

It was adorable how sleepy Jace could get after a good snack, the butterflies in your stomach doing an extra round as your eyes fluttered open and you watched him sleep. His dark curls were slicked back, a little frizzy from the sea salt and your hand ached to run your fingers through them. Jace looked angelic underneath the sun umbrella, his relaxed face so close to yours, you could feel his even huffs of air against your cheek and count the freckles on his nose.

You quietly smiled to yourself.

You were happy, young and in love with the most beautiful and kind boy you knew and you were granted two full weeks by his side underneath the warm summer sun by the sea. Everything was perfect until you suddenly heard the sharp whispers of his younger brothers drawing near.

They were arguing with each other, excitement and mischief in their voices and as you sleepily blinked at them over your shoulder, they froze, caught in the act.

“We thought you were sleeping.” Joffrey whispered, not even hiding his disappointment.

“You have to be quieter than that to not wake me.” You whispered back and his shoulders slumped, the twins still giggling with each other behind him. On the other side of the pool, Luke was snoring on his own sunchair, his ears covered by headphones.

Joffrey gestured to the sand bucket in his hands, the water in it splashing a little onto the hot stone floor. “We found a jellyfish and wanted to give it to Jace, to prank him.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips and you put your sunglasses back on, slowly and carefully slipping out of Jace’s embrace. He made a small noise in his sleep, his subconsciousness not happy over your familiar warmth vanishing, but yet letting him continue to nap.

You tiptoed to his younger brothers, taking the small bucket from their hands and glimpsing into it. You raised a finger to your lips and slowly walked back to your napping spot, silently setting the bucket down in front of Jace’s face.

The twins behind your back gasped in excitement and you grinned, brushing back your boyfriend’s stray curls, softly talking to him. “Jacey…time to wake up, my love…”

He stirred, a croaky groan getting stuck in his throat as he furrowed his brows and opened his pretty eyes. Jacaerys found himself face to face with a big gooey jellyfish and the sight of you and his brothers laughing as you saw his confused face. He shuffled backwards, pushing the bucket away.

Your eyes met and you could tell you might’ve made a grievous mistake, having conspired against him like this.

“They made me do it!” You grinned, harmlessly raising your arms in defense as he fixated you with a dark stare, an idea coming up in his mind. Directed to his brothers, you said: “Alright now, get this poor thing back in the ocean where it belongs before your parents see, come on.”

Jace sat up, stretching his limbs, his eyes darkening playfully. “You know I would’ve expected such a joke from my little brothers, but you, my love? I’m deeply wounded.”

He slowly rose from your napping spot and you took a step backwards on the warm stone plates, the sparkling mischief in his eyes making you giggle nervously. When Jacaerys looked at you like this, nothing good could follow…

“I think…” He took a sudden step into your direction and a funny feeling shot through your stomach at his predatory stare. “I might have to get revenge for that…”

Joffrey and the twins burst apart with a collective sneak, quickly retreating as he lunged for you. You let out a screech, heedlessly running around the pool’s edge as he chased you around it. You heard his laughter echo across the Mediterranean walls, the laughter of a man who knew he had already won and before you could outrun him, he snatched you by the waist-

“Jacaerys-!”

- and jumped into the pool with you.

Water crashed together over your heads and you clung to Jace’s body underneath it, weightless and trusting. He found you quickly, holding you against him as you came up, sputtering and laughing at the cool shock of the pool’s water.

He shook out his wet hair and you squealed.

“You could’ve warned me!” You splashed some water at him, but he only held you tighter and laughed with you, walking you backwards in the refreshing deep. Your legs found their way around his waist on their own, hugging him close to you like a koala baby would.

“I could say the same thing.” He shot back, his hand caressing your bum and supporting you, and then you were getting kissed against the wall of the pool. His free hand softly held the back of your head, making sure you weren’t hitting the hard stone as he ravished your mouth, him tasting like sugar and watermelon on your tongue.

Cool water drops coated your lips as you lazily slung your arms around his neck, gasping quietly as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

“Eww, stop it, you’re going to drown!” Joffrey screamed at you from the pool’s edge. “Mooom!”

Jace and you broke apart, laughing with each other as you hid your face in his neck, playing with his wet hair and relishing your closeness underneath the water surface.

“We’re fine, Joff.” Jace told his brother, nuzzling your neck one last time before you looked up and spotted his mother.

Rhaenyra stood on one of the balconies, fondly looking down on her sons. “We are all going to a restaurant tonight. Be ready in two hours and for the love of the gods, someone please push Luke’s chair out of the sun.”

You pressed one final cool kiss to the tip of Jace’s nose before he walked you two over to the shallow end, gently setting you down on your feet again. You walked out of the pool together, him holding your hand so you wouldn’t slip and draping your fluffy beach towel around your shoulders.

You both looked at each other through the wet strands of your hair.

Jace stroked the side of your waist, collecting your book and his bag. “Want to go take a shower?”

You could never say no to a suggestion like that.

When you entered yours and Jace’s bedroom, the playful atmosphere by the pool had shifted into something heavy, sending a pleasant shiver down your spine, your mind having been tricked into believing there was going to be more after a heated kiss like that.

The glowing afternoon sun painted your room golden and Jace’s eyes were shining like liquid amber as they rested on you, draping the towel around you over the chair in the corner. You turned to him, suddenly very aware of your dripping wet bikini, a particular nice pair you owned that Jace loved to take off of you whenever he could.

“Do you want to go shower first?” You asked him innocently.

He brushed his hair back with both hands, his muscled arms on full display for you. You swallowed. When had it gotten this hot in the room?

He shrugged; eyes sparkling. “I thought we could save some water and go together?.” His swimming shorts were steadily dripping onto the floor, but neither of you cared.

“Such a brilliant idea.” You breathed, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bikini top.

But as if he couldn’t have that, Jace was there, leading you to the big mirror next to your bed, a beautiful detail to the room you had already been using to your advantage every night…

Your breath faltered as he stepped behind you, letting you look at yourself as he brushed your wet hair over your shoulder, delivering a small kiss to it. His eyes were not leaving yours in the reflection as he skillfully unclasped your top and began to sensually kiss your neck, a small moan escaping you as you tilted your head to the side, becoming putty in his caring hands.

You held your breath, biting your lip in bliss as he slid his warm hands over your form, feather-lightly caressing the side of your breasts before his arms came around you. A sun-kissed embrace. It was getting hard to think clearly as you listened to the sound of his mouth on your jaw and neck, traveling indulgently over your skin and searching for your sweet spots he knew so well.

You did not know how, but somehow you managed to stumble into the bathroom without tripping. You quickly turned around and kissed him like your life depended on it, your bikini top falling carelessly to the floor with a wet sound.

His eyes darkened as he looked up and down your silhouette, the warm light of the bathroom making it seem like you were shimmering for him. And you did, beaming under his attentive gaze, almost forgetting that you came here with the intention to get clean.

You had thought before that Jace’s shower at home was big, but this one was ridiculously enormous. There was enough space for the two of you to comfortably stand in it together, with a little stone bench in the corner and a big rainforest shower head above you. To be clear; the perfect playground for lovers.

Your chest tightened adoringly as you watched him making sure the water was the right temperature before he took your hand and pulled you against him under the spray, your chest pressed against his as he hugged you. You simply held each other for a while as the salt and sand was washed away from your bodies.

Jace and you shared some achingly sweet kisses, your hands exploring each other’s naked and wet bodies, one of his arms always steadily around your waist as your fingers ran up and down his chest, feeling his heart beat wildly underneath your touch.

There was no rush in your actions and yet you made out more fiercely now, the memory of sleeping together yesterday night already fading and needing to be refreshed…

You quietly laughed against his lips as he struggled to push off his wet swim shorts, helping him eagerly to get rid of them before you gently cupped his bulge, a sharp gasp being torn from his throat by your bold move.

He leaned back against the wall, exhaling shakily and his head hitting the tiles with a quiet thud as you began to kiss his neck, your tongue licking over his skin. You distracted him with those deep kisses until your fingertips trailed down his toned stomach and brushed against him, his dick twitching at the small contact.

You smiled against his neck, shushing him sweetly as he whined, your fingers finally wrapping around him and slowly beginning to jerk him off. He bit his lip, but his little moans and whines were stronger, echoing across the shower cell, heat pooling between your legs at his loss of control over himself.

“I’ve been wanting you all day...” You whispered into his ear, your nails scratching lightly over his skull and he gasped as you twisted your wrist around him.

“Please, baby, ah-“ He broke off, shaking his head like he was trying to fight it. You watched every little reaction crossing his pretty face as you continued, varying between slow strokes and gentle twists of your hand, knowing the mix it needed to get him off like you knew yourself.

You leaned closer, breathing heavily yourself, kissing his chest and sucking on the sensitive side of his neck.

But just before he could spill and finish into your hand, Jacaerys grit his teeth, fought off the haze you brought on him and grabbed you, effortlessly hoisting you up and pushing you against the shower tiles.

You let out a surprised gasp, your hands scrambling for his shoulders as he rolled his hips forward and ground his dick against your core, barely covered by the wet bikini you were still wearing.

Jace and you moaned in sync, looking at each other through wide and cloudy eyes.

One of his hands braced itself on the wall behind you and your hand flew up to grasp it as he continued his sweet assault on you, nearly making you forget your own name until it was your turn to beg for him now.

“God, you feel good…” Jace moaned, his head dropping on your shoulder before he captured your mouth with his again. “So lovely, all for me…”

Your original plan to get ready for dinner efficiently was thrown carelessly out of the window, completely forgotten and vanished as hot friction shot through your nerves, making you whimper and hold on tightly to his shoulders.

You clung to him, planning on never letting him go again as he peppered kisses on your skin. His mouth trailed down your collarbone before he sucked one of your breasts into his mouth, his hot tongue swirling around the sensitive bud that ached for him. You almost did not notice how he was walking out of the shower with you in his arms.

Your head was spinning with dizziness, having to blink a few times to see the bathroom disappearing behind you, the steady drip of water trailing along with the two of you.

“Jace, what are you- don’t trip!” You squeaked and clung to him, a hoarse chuckle escaping him as you buried your face in his neck and held on for dear life. One of his hands soothingly stroked your back.

“We’re going to get the bed all wet.” You protested weakly, not able to pretend like you weren’t absolutely thrilled by this side of him, carrying you wherever he wanted like you weighed nothing and deciding he needed you in a bed instead of quickly and rushed in the shower.

Jacaerys let you down gently, placing you among the disheveled sheets you had woken up in this morning. You had slept in long, letting the sunbeams tickle you awake through the window, cuddling without a care in the world and the bed suddenly looked like it now.

The white blankets and pillows welcomed your naked body and you felt like you were resting on a cloud with the way Jace came to kneel over you, breathing heavily with wide pupils, his dark eyes exploring your glistening body silently. You bit your lip, embers swirling in your stomach, feeling the sheets under you turning drenched. Little water drops were raining down from his hair tips, landing on your thigh.

He looked like an angel and your heart nearly beat out of your chest, knowing he was yours.

“The summer sun suits you, my love.” He murmured, lost in your sight underneath him.

He lifted one finger and followed down the tan line of your bikini top, your chest rising and falling faster as his pointy finger reached one of your nipples, lazily drawing circles around the rosy bud.

You let out a tiny grunt as he hummed appreciatively as it got harder underneath his touch, one warm hand splayed on your tummy to feel you squirming.

A loving smile tugged at the corners of his plump lips, the hunger for him achingly flaring up in you. “You look like you’ve been kissed by the sea.”

“I’d rather get kissed by you.” You confessed, gasping when he suddenly bent down and placed an open-mouthed kiss on your stomach, his tongue briefly dipping into your belly button while his lean hands took a hold of your quivering knees.

You watched him, speechless and in awe of your perfect adoring boyfriend and he rested his cheek against your smooth thigh, smiling up to you. “I plan to, don’t worry, love.”

His fingers wandered along the seam of your baby blue bikini bottom, not yet pulling them off. You could feel his breath ghosting over you, mouth falling open from the tiny sensation.

“Is this okay?” His fingers hooked into the sides of your bikini, waiting for you to give him an answer.

“Yes…” You whispered to him, nodding quickly. “More than okay.”

Your hand stroked through his wet curls and a shiver went through his entire body. Like this, he looked like a young prince, dreamy but with fire in his beautiful eyes, focusing only on you. From this angle, you could see his dick throb against his thigh, but the bliss of having you like this seemed to cloud his mind for the moment, making it hard to think.

“Please, Jace.” A whine got stuck in your throat as you wriggled your hips, urging him on to undress you fully. “Kiss me, please, I need you-“

You lifted your hips for him as he slid off the last barrier between the two of you, groaning wantonly when he saw your soaked core, your glistening wetness helplessly leaking into the sheets below you. You clenched around nothing underneath his dark gaze, feeling as if your whole body was on fire and only he could make it better – by adding gasoline to the mix and setting you aflame.

He absently licked his lips, not parting his eyes from your most sensitive parts as he carefully grabbed your legs and spread them, twin kisses pressed to each of your calves as he got comfortable in between them.

He cursed under his breath, flustered and driven by love and lust as he made eye contact with you. “God, you’re so wet for me, baby.”

You hissed when one of his fingers dragged through your folds, spreading your wetness tortuously slowly over your pulsing clit. You squeezed your eyes shut, mouth falling open, hips bucking uncontrollably into his grasp.

If this was his sweet revenge for the jellyfish earlier, you’d make sure to dive into the ocean first thing tomorrow and catch hundreds of them.

Jacaerys slowly began to trace circles on your clit, his fingers achingly soft and slow, exactly how he preferred to get you off. Shuddering little sighs and moans left your lips as he started to kiss your inner thighs and the tightly wound spiral in you drew itself only tighter, ready to snap and send you into sweet oblivion. 

While one hand pampered your clit, alternating between featherlight strokes and slow patterns, the other soothed you with gentle touches, caressing your stomach and your chest, never stopping in just one place and always wandering as if it was the first time he explored your body.

“You are so sweet.” Jace murmured and you lifted your head from the fluffy pillows, whimpering needily when you saw him licking his lips in excitement. He placed one of your legs on his shoulder, shuffling even closer and gritting his teeth when his dick dragged over the sheets.

“Tap my shoulder if you need me to stop.” He told you hoarsely and you threw him a look that said absolutely not, never.

He cocked his eyebrow at you and before you could prepare yourself in any way, he softly blew on you, the cool air meeting your hot flesh and sending lightning through every nerve in your body.

Motivated by your surprised mewl, Jace wasted no time anymore and dove in, moaning as he kissed your folds and spread them apart with his tongue, kissing you like he had in the shower earlier, your sweet scent going right into his brain and making him drunk on you.

He took his time with you, attentively eating you out like you were his favorite meal on earth, relishing the act of being so close to your most intimate part. Your hand found his outstretched one, squeezing it tightly as you whimpered from pleasure, sweat collecting at your brow and legs shaking on his shoulders.

He licked you sensually slowly, sucking your clit into his mouth and releasing it with an obscene sound while his burning gaze stayed on you.

You were losing it.

You could not decide if you wanted to close your eyes and give in to this feeling or keep them open to watch his every move. 

His lips and chin were glistening, covered in you, and you tried to brace yourself on your elbows to look at him, mouth agape and brows scrunched together as Jace continued to worship you. His soft wet curls were a tickling sensation on your inner thighs whenever you tried to clamp them together, but his bony shoulders were there, keeping you perfectly wide open for him.

“Jace.” Your breath hitched, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “More, please. Shit-“

A relieved moan tore through you when he slowly pushed one of his long fingers inside you, breathing heavily in sync with you as your warm walls welcomed him, sucking the familiar digit in. You slumped against the pillows as he nestled his face against your thigh, watching as he slowly began to finger you, your pelvis beginning to move too, meeting every little push of his.

One finger soon became two and he crooked them up just as the right time, making your back arch off the mattress, keening highly towards the ceiling. Everything seemed to melt together as he suckled on your clit, the sounds of his finger sliding in and out of you outright dirty. Combined with his muffled groans and whines at your taste on his tongue, you were catapulted towards an inevitable edge, a familiar abyss ready to welcome you home.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, baby.” He praised huskily and you clenched down on his fingers, crying out as he licked one fat stripe up your core. He was intoxicating and thought the same of you, his own definition of paradise on earth. He never wanted to let your taste leave his mouth. “So sweet for me…I can tell you’re close, aren’t you?”

“So close.” You sighed in agreement, holding on to his shoulders and trying your best to buck forward and match his rhythm. Occasionally, your fingers would find their way into his hair, tugging at the silky strands and he’d moan right into your cunt, the vibrations making your eyes roll back. The water on your skin had been replaced by a thin layer of sweat and he exhaled sharply as you rode his fingers, seeking out the edge of the mountain, the bottom of his endless sea of love for you.

“I love you, love you so much.” He tried to coax it out of you, encouraging you as he peppered kisses on your sweet rosy cunt. “I want to see you come so badly, my love, I need to feel it-”

The intensity of your peak nearly blinded you and you were sure you were ascending up into the air, only grounded to this world by Jace holding and kissing you through your orgasm. He made it even longer, stronger for you, suckling your clit once more as high whines and whimpers left your lips, a tear escaping your shut eyes and being caught by his thumb.

Little shockwaves still danced through you as you watched him with half-lidded eyes, his hand disappearing to grab himself-

You shook your head, tugging him up and against you by his wet chin. You shivered, hugging him close as he exhaled shakingly, your naked bodies rubbing against each other. You needed him close, needed to melt into one with him and you were not letting him touch himself to completion, not when he had you.

“I need to feel you.” You mumbled, a little out of it, tearily blinking at him as he looked at you like you were an angel having been sent to be his.

“Are you sure?” He looked at you searchingly, brushing back your sweaty hair from your forehead. “I don’t want you to be sore later…”

You cupped his cheek, timidly shaking your head. Your next words were barely a whisper. “I just need you, Jace. Please, make love to me.”

Jace let out a croaky sigh, kissing your fingertips as his own fumbled for a condom on the bedside table. Your hand sneaked down his body, giving his weeping dick some merciful strokes before he rolled on the condom and buried his face in your neck, slowly sinking into your welcoming warm heart.

Your boyfriend moaned so prettily at how tightly you squeezed him, it almost was enough to make you come again. 

Jace was utterly overwhelmed, taking a few deep breaths as he let you both adjust to the never tiring sensation of being connected like this. You hummed happily, kissing his temple and stroking his back and he hugged you tightly to him.

He was in heaven as he looked deeply into your eyes, babbling softly how much he loved you and whining when you crossed your legs behind his back and pulled him deeper.

There was no rush in the way you kissed each other, lazily exploring each other’s mouth as he began to move, pulling out the slightest bit before easing forward again, the drag of his dick against your over sensitive walls enough to make you a quivering mess.

“’m not gonna last long…” He confessed, a pretty frown on his forehead, sensually rolling his hips forward as you met him thrust for thrust. “You feel so good, baby, so perfect, all mine…”

“Yours.” You echoed dreamily and then his lips found yours again, feverishly this time and searching, his hips slowly picking up a delicious rhythm, chasing the high he had been suppressing ever since you stood under the showerhead together earlier…

You touched his shoulders, played with his hair as his lashes fluttered, his thrusts losing their pace as he felt it approaching, the storm that was you, ready to sweep him off his feet. A whine tore itself from his throat as you purposefully tightened your muscles around him, one hand buckling under him and flying to your clit where skin slapped against skin and you were still sensitive from your first orgasm.

“Jace-“ You gasped, biting your lip so hard it nearly bled, grinding against him. “Let go, love, I know you’re close, let go for me-“

A dam in Jacaerys broke and with one deep last rock forward, he found his release in you, losing himself entirely in his sweet girl. He groaned long and deep, gasping into the crook of your neck as he slowed his hips, lips ghosting over your skin as he touched you and tried to stop himself from shaking.

You couldn’t help but fall over the edge a second time, your whole body shaken by uncontrollable twitches and imaginary electricity. The two of you clung to each other desperately, riding the high you brought down on one another together until your hips began to slow.

Not ready to let go of each other yet, Jace sighed and rolled down from you, but not without pulling you with him and tucking you safely against him. Humming happily, you draped one leg over his and smiled as he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your jaw.

“You were amazing.” He whispered into the content silence, his eyes full of adoration as he cupped your cheek and kissed your lips. “Was it okay for you? Not…too much?”

You smiled brightly. “It was perfect. I think I saw stars for a moment.”

You giggled as he turned red, hiding his face in your neck, your fingers brushing through his hair. The two of you had dried off by now, only your wet bikini on the floor and his extra curly hair evidence to the shower you had attempted to take.

“I love you.” He breathed, hugging you tightly and stroking your back, lifting you closer with a secure hand on your bum. “I’m so glad you came with me on this trip…”

“Thank you for bringing me…love you too.” You stroked his cheekbone, getting lost in his eyes and the love you shared for each other. He lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles, one by one.

Out of the sudden, you frowned and lifted your hand to his neck, fingers brushing over a red spot near his nape. “You got a sunburn, Jace.”

“Oh…” He mumbled, his eyes still closed and happy to just hold you like this for a little while longer. “I’ll live, don’t worry about me.”

“You have to let me apply some of my aloe vera before we go to dinner, okay?” You mumbled back, pressing a small kiss on the burn, making him squirm. “If you start to peel, I’ll sleep elsewhere.”

He let out a displeased tut at that, his strong arms tightening around your waist. “Nu-uh, not letting you…we can just order room service later, who needs a fancy dinner by the beach…”

“I do.” You laughed lightly at his blissed out and carefree smile, softly hitting his chest. “And it would be so rude not to show up. I’ll remind you of your own words later when you overtake yourself at the buffet.”

He hummed considerately, not convinced yet. “I don’t know…staying in bed with you sounds pretty good to me already.”

“We can stay in bed for the whole night.” You argued playfully, knowing exactly how to sell him the deal. “I’m going to wear my sundress later, the one you love so much. Would you want to miss me in it?”

His hand on your hip bone stilled and you giggled victoriously. Got you.

“So…” Jace smiled sheepishly at you, a small blush coloring his freckled cheeks. “Do you want to take a shower then?”

[the-fiction-witch]

Boys

Media - House Of The Dragon Characters - Lucerys Velaryon & Jacaerys Velaryon Couples - Lucerys X Reader & Jacaerys Velaryon x Reader Reader - (OC) Vaella Targaryen (Eldest Daughter of Laena and Daemon) Rating - Flirty Word Count - 1997

It had been a long day in Dragonstone, and both Jacaerys and Lucerys knew they were in trouble. After a fight with some knights, they both sat in their sibling's chambers, unhappy and unsettled. They knew once their mother returned from her visit to Kings Landing they were going to get it. The two sat on their beds nursing their wounds in their shared chamber.

But their door opened, both boys raised their heads Jacaerys with a black eye, the Lucerys with a bleeding nose, and the Velayon boys gulped suddenly realizing they were going to be getting it far sooner than they had hoped.

Vaella, their cousin and half-sister walked into their room with purpose. Dressed as usual in her long black and red velvet dress with her curls pulled back with a matching bow. She walks to stand in the centre of both their beds, crosses her arms and glares, "Explain. Before I send a raven to your mother."

Jacaerys spoke up immediately a bit intimidated by her "No, you can't tell our mother," he said.

"Please," Lucerys added quickly. "It was just a small fight, nothing serious."

"explain. What happened. Quickly" she demanded,

The boys exchanged a look and Jace sighed. "It was just a small fight, really. " He said, "A knight made a comment and we lost our temper."

Luke fidgeted with a piece of the sheet. "It's fine, Vaella," he said quietly. "You don't need to get involved."

"which knight was it?" she asked,

"Ser Pyter Thornwood," Jace muttered, frowning.

Luke also scowled at the name. "He's an ass," he added.

"What did he say?" she asked,

Luke's face reddened, and he looked down at the sheets,

Jace swallowed, his expression darkening. "He... he called us bastards and princes of brothel," he said quietly.

She nodded silently a moment before she finally spoke "Alright. Next time just tell me. You won't have any trouble from him again,"

"You're gonna teach him a lesson?" luke asked,

"... Better. I'll remove his tounge" she snapped

Both boys just stared, surprised at the anger in her voice, and how easily she had spoken of such a cruel fate for the knight.

Luke looked down after a moment.

Jace, on the other hand, tried to remain aloof, though his voice was a little more gentle when he spoke. "You don't have to do that," he said quietly. "I don't need you to defend me," he tried to act tough.

"Who said I'm defending you? A remark on either of you is a remark on your mother who is queen and any remarks against either of you is treason." She explained "That and any snark against you boys is a snark against our family, myself included. If people are allowed to start insulting the two of you over rumours of parentage how long before he turns on the twins too, on me, on Aegon and viserys. This doesn't end with you two it's a snark against us all."

All of that had never occurred to either of the boys. They knew they were targets, but they hadn't thought about everyone else.

Jace's shoulders sagged a little, and he looked guilty.

Luke, on the other hand, actually looked nervous. "They wouldn't do that," he said, but a hint of fear was now in his voice.

"They would. That's why we end this before it begins." She nodded,

Jace nodded slowly, finally convinced but Luke still looked a bit worried.

"But the tongues? Wouldn't that be a little extreme?" luke asked anxiously.

"he can't insult anyone without a tounge." She shrugged,

"... That's true," he reluctantly admitted. Both brothers knew that once Vaella 's mind was set in something, there was no going back. The only thing they could do was make sure she didn't act rashly. "Are... are you going to do it right now?" Luke asked warily.

"Probably tonight, once he gets drunk enough to not scream as loudly" she shrugged

Luke winced at how casually she spoke.

Jace, on the other hand, looked intrigued, but a part of him still felt a twinge of guilt at the thought of Ser Thornwood losing his tongue. "Won't there be consequences?" He asked.

"Never had any before" she shrugged

Both boys were a bit taken aback. "Before?" Jace repeated, looking at her in astonishment.

"You did this before?" Luke added, a hint of awe in his voice.

"... Did you never question what happened to that knight that called you both bastards back in King's Landing? You think he just disappeared?"

They both exchanged a look. They could guess what happened to that knight, but he had never confirmed it.

"That was you?" Jace asked.

"I... you... didn't tell us," Luke admitted hesitantly. "That's very badass."

"thank you, but you can thank Starburn. She ate him"

They both grimaced; still getting used to the idea of a giant dragon eating a person, even if they deserved it.

"You... you fed him to Starburn?" Luke asked faintly, his face pale.

"I did, he begged for mercy like a bitch. It was funny" she chuckled "And I was slowly poisoning Aemond until your mother moved us away from King's Landing. Still have someone working on it though"

Luke actually gaped at her. He looked a mixture between horrified and impressed - mainly the former.

Jace, on the other hand, just looked amused. "You've been poisoning Aemond ?" He asked, clearly entertained.

"yeah for like six years, it's why his eye never heals,"

"And no one's noticed? You haven't been caught?" Jace asked, eyebrows raised.

Luke was speechless; his mind was racing with all this information he had suddenly received.

"you two seem to forget I have Daemon as a father. I feel like you should be less surprised" she chuckled,

"You're his daughter, all right," Jace said at last.

Luke nodded slowly, and his voice was a bit tentative. "You're not... going to poison us, are you?"

"awww," she cooed giving both boys a kiss on the cheek "like I'd tell you if I was" she chuckled

They both shuddered slightly as she kissed their cheeks and exchanged a look; Luke looked slightly more alarmed than Jace.

Jace rolled his eyes, but his voice had a hint of amusement as he said, "You're worse than Daemon, you know."

"awww you get an extra kiss for such a nice compliment" she chuckled giving Jace another kiss

Jace scowled slightly as she gave him another kiss but a hint of a grin played on his lips. He pushed her away slightly, with a grumble that was less than convincing. "Knock it off."

Luke had regained some more colour in his cheeks, and there was a hint of a smile on his face. "And what about me ?" He asked slyly.

"do you have a nice compliment for me too?" She asked Luke

The youngest prince hesitated for a moment, and then he looked up at her with his big eyes. "You're... clever and brave," he said quietly. "And you're one of the people I trust the most," he added timidly.

Jace huffed, as if to say 'suck up', but remained silent.

"aww that's very sweet Luke" she smiled giving his lips a little peck and tussling his hair

A blush spread across Luke's face

Jace rolled his eyes, but he didn't look quite as annoyed now. "You're spoiling him, you know?" He said in a dry voice.

"oh? Jealous Jacaerys?" She raised an eyebrow

Jace's scowled, his expression shifting to defensive immediately. "Jealous of what? He's a baby."

Luke protested indignantly. "I am not a baby," he said hotly.

"Jace. Do you or do you not want a kiss too?" she asked,

Jace flushed slightly, his cheeks turning pink, and he had the decency to look embarrassed. "I... I don't need a kiss," he muttered, stubbornly avoiding her gaze.

"but did you want one?"

"No," he said firmly, still refusing to look at her.

Luke looked highly amused, and there was a hint of a smirk on his face. "He wants one," he said slyly.

"suit yourself," she chuckled "Luke? Would you like another kiss?"

Luke's eyes widened slightly, like he couldn't believe he was being offered another kiss. He was still reeling from the first one, and the prospect of another made his cheeks flush. He looked at her and nodded shyly, his voice quiet. "Yes, please-"

"Hey!" Jace protested, feeling somewhat betrayed.

"you were asked and you said no" she chuckled to Jace before giving Luke another sweet kiss

Jace just huffed, clearly frustrated by his own stubbornness.

Luke was blushing again, but there was a dreamy smile on his lips as she kissed him. He looked like he had just been given the best gift in the world.

"That's not fair," Jace pointed out, in a slightly petulant voice.

"how? I asked if you wanted a kiss you said no. I asked him if he wanted a kiss he said yes so he got a kiss. What's about that isn't fair Jace?"

Jace grumbled, clearly annoyed by her logic. He knew he had no response to that, and his pride wasn't going to allow him to admit he wanted a kiss from her.

There was a hint of a smile on Luke's face; he was clearly enjoying watching his brother's frustration.

"Ugh," Jace groaned. "This is ridiculous. You - you know I want a kiss too!" Jace's voice was full of frustration, and a hint of embarrassment as he glanced at Luke, who was looking completely smug.

"well why didn't you say you wanted a kiss?"

"Because I'm not going to ask for one," he huffed sulkily.

Luke snickered from his bed, clearly finding everything very entertaining.

"don't ask, don't get." She chuckled before setting he hand son Jace's strong shoulders and giving him a long heated kiss "there happy Velaryon now?" She teased him

Jace's eyes widened as she pressed her lips against his. Every protest and stubborn pride vanished as soon as he felt the heat of her kiss. He returned the kiss eagerly, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her closer. He was flushed and a bit breathless when she finally pulled back. "Very," he replied in a slightly hoarse voice.

"good," she chuckled "now if you two are done and have had enough kisses I have a knight to go and deal with"

Luke looked a little disappointed, but he nodded reluctantly.

Jace, on the other hand, looked a bit reluctant to let her go, his arms still wrapped around her waist. "Must you go right now?" He asked in a voice that was almost a whine.

"well, what else am I to do?"

Jace huffed, still holding her in his strong arms, reluctant to let her go. He looked like he wanted to say something probably along the lines of "stay here with me, don't go." but he knew deep down she would never listen.

Luke was silent as well; a bit sad that she had to go he would have very much preferred it if she stayed, so he just bit his lip and looked down.

"how about this, I shall go and deal with this knight. And when I'm done I'll come back and we can have a cuddle all three of us?"

Both the boys' eyes lit up at that. The idea of a cuddle with her was certainly very enticing.

Jace nodded eagerly, his annoyance replaced by excitement at the prospect of her returning to them. "Okay," he said eagerly, still holding her.

Luke was smiling again, clearly looking forward to it. "Yeah," he agreed quickly.

"right then you boys be good" she cooed giving them both a sweet kiss before she headed out of their chambers

Jace and Luke both looked flushed, but their cheeks were still slightly tinged pink after her lingering kiss.

They watched her leave, both of them feeling strangely bereft in her absence. But they could be confident that she'd come back, and then they'd get to spend some more time with her. They both settled comfortably into their beds debating as boys do over who got the better kisses, and patiently waiting for her return. 

[spacerockfloater]

“I mean, Meleys is a beloved dragon.” — Ryan Condal, House of the Dragon, S2 E4 “The Red Dragon and the Gold” Director on Meleys’s head being paraded around King’s Landing

Why? Why would she be beloved? What has the dragon done to be loved? How do the common folk even know who she is? Do they make fancards of their favourite dragons? Do they have an official dragon website containing all the info that they check on a regular basis? Does it automatically update every Friday? Is Meleys like a mascot to them? Did she help them grow their crops? Literally, what?

“They’re the symbol of House Targaryen!” okay and why the fuck would they care about their colonisers’ sigil? What the fuck is this forced love for the Targs? Aegon’s Conquest happened 120 years ago. There’s no way these folks have forgotten that, as Cregan’s snide remark to Jace about his ancestor threatening his proves. The insinuation that the people of Westeros loved their oppressors is insane because imagine going out of your way to say shit like “No actually, the peoples of African loved the English and the French, they helped them evolve and stuff!”. He would have been rightfully stoned. The small folk canonically hate these fucking nuclear lizards, that’s why they kill them later on.

Did we all forget the mass murder Meleys committed during her escape, or does Condal simply not consider the episodes he did not write himself to be canon, lol? Is his beef with Sara so great that he’ll just ignore everything she added? And for those saying that the smallfolk wouldn’t be aware of this act because only a few hundreds died and news can’t spread fast there because they have no BBC: are you actually telling me the people might be unaware of a literal terrorist attack, but the execution of the rat catchers was what shocked them to their core? What?

I’m getting so tired of this series.

[mhsdatgo]

Always hated the way according to TB I'm supposed, as a woman, to root for Rhaenyra "Mary Sue" Targaryen because she's a Valyrian woman and can't do no wrong. Otherwise I'm framed as a misogynist, an enabler, a rape apologist, every name in the book. As if this isn't the same girl who coerced her bodyguard because her erectile disfunction uncle didn't wanna bang her after leaving her in a brothel, naked and on plain sight for any kind of perverted brute. As if this isn't the same girl who weaponized both her and her best friend's trauma to twist a truth about something she very willingly did that could've had her disowned if her father was anyone else other than the weak ass neglectful rapist pedo father she had instead.

This is the same girl who ignored and mistreated Alicent when all she did was convince Viserys to allow her privileges she never had, like choosing a husband. Like it or not, it was Alicent the one who gave gave and gave, and Rhaenyra the one who took took and took and even MOCKED, time and time again. The same girl who acted like a victim when the girl she called her literal best friend (only when it benefitted her) was getting maritally R*PED in the next room by her crusty ass father. She never tried connecting with her siblings because they were Alicent's children. Not because their minds were poisoned, not because they were apparently bitter towards her. Because they weren't her mother's children. Same as Viserys. Guess the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.

I'm supposed to root for a woman who doesn't do one single thing for the claim she feels so entitled to (who was purely based on Viserys' grief and guilt for Aemma)? I'm supposed to root for a woman who brings back to the line of succession the same man everyone wanted far from the line of succession? I'm supposed to root for the woman who wants to be the exception, not give possibilities to other women like an ACTUAL feminist does? She usurps her stepdaughters' claims in favor of her obviously bastard children, and no, betrothing the fpur of them isn't the same. If they die, the girls' claim dies with them, and guess what, exactly that happened.

No, I will not root for the woman who wanted a teenager's head because she was black and because she couldn't cope with the fact that "hEr pRiNcE" didn't love her, only what her title could offer. Or the woman who put a price on a 6yo's and a 2yo's head simply because they were her brother's children, thereby proving what Criston said about what was needed for Jace to raise to power after his mother. She even denied the request of multiple older daughters/sisters who rightfully wanted to lead their houses, with the excuse that the relam would be far too 'imbalanced'. Girl, are you that dense? There's the smallfolk getting eaten and burned and taxes by your dragon and your entire family fighting wars and dying left and right and you think two women ruling their houses will destabilize the realm?

Rhaenyra is many things, but feminist is not among them, no matter how much you cry and whine about it. Yes, I'm aware that no woman in asoiaf or f&b can be described as feminist. But the convinction (and delusion) that Rhaenyra is, without a shadow of doubt, is mindblowing. She's arguably worse than any of said women combined.

No, I don't feel represented or uplifted by a tyrant, classist, racist, hypocritical, spoiled kinslayer with god complex because she's albino and has a pet dragon as spoiled and as useless as her. Sorry not sorry.

[fastlikealambo]

The third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.|| rhaenyra targaryen x black!fem reader

In the five years since Queen Rhaenyra The Conqueror, Bringer of New Valyria, triumphed over the usurper without losing a single dragon, the realm is at peace. Having no need of husbands and taking two other wives, Queen Alicent and Queen Mysaria, the dragon queen is in need of a third and final wife to rule the seven kingdoms at her side.

You were just a girl from nowhere, watching the sky fill with dragons at peace, destined to be a scullery maid in a vicious household and the future wife of a ratcatcher until fate and blood decide your future for you. 

History will remember Rhaenyra Targaryen as the great unifier, the second coming of Visenya Targaryen who brought another golden age of dragons out of war. But they will sing songs of you, the smallfolk who ascended to fire and blood as the queen’s favorite, the one they tried to kill so many times, the third wife of rhaenyra targaryen.

Some notes: Aegon, Aemond, and Daemon are dead but their dragons were saved, and Otto Hightower and Criston Cole spontaneously combusted, I don’t know what to tell yall. Luke lived, Jace lived, Helaena lived, Jaehaerys lived, Baela and Rhaena are happy goddammit.  During the short war, Rhaenyra married Mysaria and one year after the dance of dragons ended, she also married Alicent.

Some other notes: This is dark and I drew some inspiration from Cinderella and Hurrem Sultan (the fictional representation of her from the show's magnificent century but nobody I know watches that show). Rhaenyra is in her thirties and reader is in her twenties. 

Chapter One.

Chapter Two.

Chapter Three.

This chapter contains smut, MINORS DNI

Chapter Four: Hunger.

 Your mother held you so tight you felt like you were going to break in two.

       “I thought they were taking me to your body, not the keep itself. You left on foot this morning and before nightfall here comes a carriage picking me up, a carriage! What have you been up to, my girl? I’ll have the truth out of you and nothing else, queen or not.”

Confessing to murder is best done sitting between your mother’s legs as she oils your scalp and pulls your braids back into a bun. She doesn’t even falter once you get to the murder, just kisses the top of your head.

   “I’ve known you before you knew you which means I know you don’t go around hurting anyone. If it wasn’t you it would have been someone else, that fancy lady has half of the flea bottom girls working for her until she avoids them or worse when she can’t pay them, you’re just the first to do something about it.”

  “Why are you so calm?” You asked. Your mother sighed and took a seat on the floor next to you, an arm around your shoulder.

  “The idea of me going without had you stand before the dragon queen and win a place at her side. In a matter of hours, you’ve taken your life back from that monster and now you’re to be the wife of Queen Rhaenyra. The Gods have had a hand in these proceedings my love, but you have shaped them.”

   “What happens now?”

   “Now, we live. Not survive, live.”

In the chambers of The Small Council, the dragon queen’s grip tightened on Dark Sister, her patience tested by the two remaining men at her table. 

       “The Great Houses expected you to take one of their daughters, Your Grace.  They will not take lightly to being slighted and raising up a common girl.”

      “And what, exactly, is wrong about being common?” Mysaria asked with a rueful smile in Rhaenyra’s direction.  Rhaenyra reached under the table and rubbed Mysaria’s thigh, giving the men fifteen seconds too many.

       “The smallfolk are still recovering from the war. We are at peace but they are still in need of the crown’s help. We shall give it by feeding them, giving them shelter, and by raising up one of their own. Should the other houses take issue, they need only be reminded of the knee they bent and whom they serve. In fact, as your last acts on my council, you will go to them and refresh their memory on why they do not rest on a bed of ashes.” Rhaenyra said.

   “Your Grace if I may-

   “ You may not, Ser Alfred and as your last act, you will join him. You are both dismissed.”

The chambers emptied after that and Rhaenyra took Mysaria onto her lap, kissing the back of her neck, kneading her breast with one hand and the other..busy.

     “Shall I report on what I have found on your bride or would you like to continue, Your Grace?” Mysaria asked.

Rhaenyra removed the ringed fingers from within her mistress of whispers, sucking on them one by one.

    “And what has my star found?”

Mysaria shifted on Rhaenyra’s lap, wrapping her legs around the dragon queen.

  “She worked at a cabbage stall as a child till she learned to sew. Got kicked out her first household at seven for sneaking and listening to the daughter’s lessons so she could learn to read and write so her overtired mother wouldn’t have to worry about teaching her. She’s taken any work she can find since then to keep her mother safe and fed. Her last employer, a destitute Lannister lady was found dead but none of it leads to her.”

     “And what do you think of her?” Rhaenyra asked, kissing up and down Mysaria’s neck.

  “I think she is untested and tenderhearted but will do anything to keep her mother alive. She can be molded, motivated, and a far better seat on the council than Ser Alfred. Most importantly, she has known hunger. That sort of pain never leaves your eyes, and she’ll do anything to never know it again.”

 “And do you think she can be trusted?”

  “Do you trust her?” Mysaria posed the question right back at her wife, leaning back to look Rhaenyra in the eye.

  “I believe that I can and would rather see her at our side than someone whose house would use them to try and usurp me. She will be raised up and those that disagree will be met with fire and blood.”

Mysaria kissed her queen softly and slowly, sucking on her top lip.

  “Then we shall crown her for all to see.”

Dinner would be served soon yet Rhaenyra found herself outside your door, about to knock when she heard you swearing on the old gods and the new.  Swinging open the door, Rhaenyra found you contorting yourself in an attempt to do the laces on the back of the extravagant gown you had been gifted.

 The blood red sparkled against your dark skin and Rhaenyra could not look away.

“Oh no, am I late, Your Grace? I’m so sorry-“

“You will be a queen in two days time, apologies at every turn will be beneath you. Come, let me help you.” Rhaenyra said, holding out her hand towards you. You took it, standing in front of the mirror as she adjusted your smallclothes better to fit beneath the ornate gown.

 “May I ask you a question, Rhaenyra?”

 “You can ask me anything you like.”

“Why do they call you The Bringer of New Valyria?”

Rhaenyra did not falter from her work doing up the tiny laces of the gown, tightening them slowly.

  “Since I sat the throne I’ve started to rebuild King’s Landing to better fit its people using the gold seized during the blockade to restore the keep and homes in King’s Landing. Those who do not particularly like what I’m doing have called King’s Landing ‘New Valyria’ as if to doom it before it begins in full to scorn me, but I welcome it.” Rhaenyra explained, deft fingers moving along your back.

Once finished, you turned around to face her with a smile.

“How do I look?” You asked and couldn’t stop yourself from giving a small spin that brought a laugh to her lips.

 “Every inch a queen.” Rhaenyra said and you watched as the smile shifted from content to ravenous.

The dragon queen was beneath the gown she had taken the time to put on in seconds, tongue to your clit, lapping you up like fresh milk.

 “My queen, we’ll be late for dinner.” You managed to choke out but Rhaenyra simply kissed you.

“I’m the protector of the realm, we shall dine when I wish to dine, sweet one.” 

 You let yourself go, kissing the queen back roughly, ripping at her bodice and the laces of her own gown, gracing her skin with kisses from nose to navel. She leveraged her weight against you and you both fell onto your new bed.

  To make love to Rhaenyra Targaryen was a holy act, therefore you would sit upon her face and pray. The dragonrider welcomed your weight without complaint, mouth to your pussy with honor and such precision you held onto the headboard like reins.

With her hands on your thighs, you came quick and hard, letting the queen up for air, crawling down her body till your head was between her legs, alternating between tongue and fingers, pumping in and out till Rhaenyra’s back arched.

You never did make it to dinner.

Nor did you break your fast the following morning with the queen in your bed again, again, and again.

But bliss ended quickly for on the following day, the day you were to wed Rhaenyra, it began to rain. 

Hope you liked this chapter! Please comment or reblog so I know if I should continue :)

@asvterias

@nxcxllxsevens

@newcaptainofsquad9

@awolfcsworld

@wannabwanted

@evattude

[aesteries]

⋆✴︎˚。⋆ ─ ❝sweetling❞ ─ aemond targaryen and original female character. ❝alicent hightower's youngest daughter, haera targaryen, has returned to king's landing after eight long years in old town and aemond finds himself inexplicably drawn to the girl kissed by the moon and with the eyes that seem to only look at him.❞

how could i not love eyes that see me in all my forms as beautiful?

〔incest, innocence and fantasies, fluff and romance, smut, virginity, events of blood and cheese, family rivalry, disabled main character, hints of book!aemond, modified show!timeline and events.〕

words: 6.6k series' masterlist.

                 CHAPTER 2. 

Court affairs often put him to sleep, hours of incessant complaints and requests from worthless high-born lords and ladies who wanted more than they deserved, but not today. What was unfolding before his healthy eye was just too gripping to ignore, and for once, he thanked the gods that he did not fake an illness to miss the spectacle. His half-sister, Rhaenyra, had been bold enough to bring her illegitimate children to the Red Keep to stake their claim on Driftmark. She was demanding to recognise her second son’s legitimacy, placing him as his apparent father’s heir, amidst opposition from Vaemond Velaryon, who argues that the title belonged to him instead. Many lords in the room nodded in secret agreement with Vaemond's reasonable demand, yet Rhaenyra refused to back down, her determination palpable.

The sudden boom of the throne room doors echoed throughout the chamber as they parted, a loud announcement of the King’s arrival snapping everyone back to reality. Glancing to his side, he saw his siblings straightening up, eyes fixed on their father, King Viserys, as he struggled down the stairs with his body curved over himself. Haera, ever the dutiful daughter, had perked up at the mention of her father’s name, but her clouded vision refused to settle over the fragile man as he began his laboured progress toward the throne. 

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

The room sank into silence, a deafening sound as all eyes focused on the King's pathetic frame. The status of his health was known, but to witness his decay was a shock to everyone, and even the unflappable Otto Hightower had concern etched all over his face, though it did not seem quite genuine as he scrambled out of the throne he had been keeping warm. The air was heavy with tension as the King's slow, agonising approach to the throne seemed to take an eternity, pain burning up his skin with every step.

He trudged up the steps toward the Iron Throne, pridefully waving off the guards' offers of assistance as he stumbled, his legs trembling beneath him. In his struggle and exhaustion, the crown that dangerously balanced over his balding head slipped and fell to the granite floor with a shattering clank of metal. Aemond’s eye locked on the back of his uncle’s head as the man was the only one to act, guiding his older brother on the final few steps and placing the crown on his head. 

“I do not understand,” King Viserys’s voice was frail, breathless as he spoke, “why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

The sight of the bastard-born boy, with his head of brown locks and the whiteness of his skin standing between the rich tones of the Velaryons, triggered a low laugh from the prince’s lips, earning a side glance from his mother. The air in the throne room was thick, an obvious buzz of energy flowing between the Targaryen royalty. 

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corly’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena.” Princess Rhaenys’s tone was firm and confident: “A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Suddenly, as if he had finally heard something that interested him, King Viserys’ eyes snapped to attention, rising on his seat as if the weight of his crown had been redistributed to him with full health. The left side of his face, that side that was uncovered by the mask, twisted into a smile of cracked lips. “Very well…” His voice filled the space with anticipation, his tired eyes darting around the faces of his family. "However, I have a say in the matter of the betrothal of my grandson, Prince Lucerys.”

Aemond’s gaze drifted to his half-sister, who was already watching them with an air of confidence, a smirk on her lips with a subtle challenge. Her piercing glare seemed to dare him, to provoke him, to let him know that she knew something that he did not. His stomach twisted into knots, and he suddenly felt the ghost of a noose around his neck.

"I believe in the continued union of our families, those with the blood of Old Valyria," the king declared, his voice echoing through the hall. "And therefore, I have decided to unite my youngest daughter, Princess Haera Targaryen, to Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, the rightful heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the future Lord of the Tides."

The young prince’s world was shattered, like that night when he claimed Vhagar, the remnants of untouched innocence finally scattering over the floor for everyone to see. His despair must have been that obvious, as Aegon’s worries were evident when he turned to glance at him. Aemond remained statue-still, his gaze fixed on the back of Haera's head as she stood rigidly, flanked by Helaena and their mother. Alicent's grip on the young girl's wrist was like a vice, a desperate attempt to prevent them from tearing her away, her knuckles white with tension.

Aemond’s heartbreak was soon replaced by a raging fire, like Vhagar’s fire, that consumed his every thought as his eye daggered Lucerys Velaryon, who in return dared to challenge him with a subtle nod. Any outburst in the King’s presence would be suicidal, his wrath barely contained as his hand lingered on the hilt of his sword. He was all too familiar with the King's blind devotion to Rhaenyra and her brood, and he knew his powerlessness against it. Perhaps he could take her and rescue her from the toxicity of the court, where her innocence was being sullied by the very presence of the Strong bastards. He recalled the day Lucerys had slashed him, the resentment still festering like an open wound. In this moment, Aemond felt trapped, forced to endure the insolence of his nemesis.

It was only when gentle warmth had wrapped around his fingers that he was brought back to the present from his deadly fantasies. He looked down to find Haera’s tearful eyes welling up with crystal tears, her mind consumed by her future. The quivering of her lips fed the fire in the pit of his stomach. She was likely aware of the implications of their union, of the dark legacy they would pass on to their children, a heritage shrouded in deceit and tainted by the lies that had defined their past. She was meant to clean Lucery’s dirtied Valyrian blood with their union.

Time stopped for them as they gazed into each other’s eyes, the gentle flutter of her white eyelashes betraying the warmth of her adoration. He knew, deep down, that he and she were meant to be; it transcended tradition. It was fate; it was the will of the gods—they made her just for him, everything that he was not. Even if she were to stand before the altar, before that naive boy to exchange vows, Aemond was resolute; he would set things right. His sweetling would not be made to suffer for the mistakes of others. He would move heaven and earth to ensure her freedom from the shackles of injustice, no matter the cost.

A sudden scream cut their moment short.

Aemond’s mind was reeling, struggling to comprehend just what was unfolding before him as the two of them snapped out of their trance that had drowned out the inheritance hearing. Daemon Targaryen’s sword sliced through the air with a swift swing, decapitating Vaemond Velaryon with a deadly motion. In the aftermath of the violence, as the body began to spill over the floor, Haera instinctively wrapped her arms around his middle for protection. He enveloped her tightly, his hand on the back of her head as he held her close to his chest. The feeling of her slender frame pressed against him and his arms cradling her felt surprisingly natural, out of a dream. It was a gesture that brought a sense of calm to the chaos surrounding them; it grounded them, a fleeting moment of solace in the face of Daemon's ferocity.

His heart was racing as he clutched her. It was where she belonged: sheltered in his embrace, secured in his grasp, shielded by his unwavering protection. The half-sister’s eyes were fixed on the pair, intense with the fire of the dragon, her mind reeling with the plan she had put in place. A brother consumed by his passion and a sister who reciprocated those feelings, now a forbidden romance. She felt the danger in the pit of her stomach, not for her claim to the throne but for the future of her second-born son. Persuading her father to accept the match had been easy, serving the young prince an opportunity on a silver platter. Lucerys saw the two Targaryens lost in their own world, and he saw a challenge. 

The air was heavy with tension, thick with the weight of forbidden love and the ominous foreshadowing of strife to come.

The day after the disastrous inheritance hearing, the sun cast a gentle glow on the beautiful gardens of the Red Keep, its rays illuminating the many flowers that adorned the greenery. As she strolled through, a soft breeze caressed her face and tangled her hair, pulling the strands from the intricate braids her ladies had crafted. Yet she was overwhelmed by anxiety and a sense of unease that had settled in her stomach. The company, she was convinced, was to blame for her discomfort. Her mother’s encouragement still echoed fresh in her mind, and she would not let her down even if she had missed the worry behind the Queen’s forced smile.

Lucerys Velaryon had appeared outside the Queen’s chambers; his arm extended in invitation as a way to formally begin courting his promised princess. The young man possessed an unusual charm, an air of innocence one moment, and a sharp tongue the next. Within mere minutes of their stroll, he had dropped too many complaints for her comfort, criticising the alterations to the Red Keep, the gardens, and even the maids’ outfits. The food, as well, was apparently not to his liking, and she found herself on edge, bracing for the next critique to tumble from his lips.

Lucerys droned on about the dragonpit or something about dragons, but her mind had drifted to some of the times she had taken strolls around the garden. Aemond cherished their shared moments. He never complained, never interrupted her, and listened to her. She recalled how he would gently hold her hand over the cracked stones, ensuring she didn't trip and fall. He'd pluck flowers from the nearby bushes, presenting them to her so she could marvel at their beauty up close. In those quiet moments, Aemond always reminded her that she possessed a beauty that rivalled the flowers, making her feel treasured and unique.

As she stood beside her betrothed, Lucerys, her eyes widened in stark realization. Her thoughts strayed back to Aemond as if her mind were trying to escape the present.

The one-eyed prince lingered in the darkness, fixed on every step they took. The torches cast long shadows over him, clouding him from their sight and helping him blend into the darkness with his black leather. His mother had attempted to stop him, claiming that it was for her own good, but he refused to abandon her, especially since she was to be alone with that bastard and Gods knew what he could be capable of. She looked radiant, shining like jewels even under the weak sunlight, clad in an exquisite silk dress with delicate lace patterns. Her beauty, so pure, made his heart ache with jealousy, seeing how her beauty was being wasted on Lucerys when it should be reserved for him alone.

“I was wondering,” Lucerys’ voice finally directed at her shook her from her thoughts. “How come you do not ride your dragon?”

Her brows furrowed, initially confused at his question but realising he had no idea about the tragedy that had befallen her hatchling, Brightfyre, during childhood. The memory of that painful day was still so fresh in her mind, even if she had been too young. It was like an open wound that would never heal, and his question had rubbed salt over it. "My dragon passed away when it was just a hatchling," she explained, her voice laced with a hint of sadness.

As she spoke, Lucerys's face lost its colour, his features contorting into a grimace. "The dragon keepers believed it was due to a malformation during incubation. According to the maesters, I wouldn't have been able to ride for long even if Brightfyre had survived anyways, as my sight would have continued to deteriorate with age.”

She missed the expression, her gaze fixed on the ground as she continued her walk, her footsteps steady and deliberate. Behind her, Lucerys had to consciously relax his facial muscles, shaking off the tension that had built up. Aemond, ever the observer, caught the subtle movement and raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting between the young couple as they strolled through the castle grounds.

“I’m relieved,” she confessed, her tone a stark contrast to the sorrow that had taken over her voice moments ago. “It gives me a sense of freedom, not being bound to one of them... being different from the rest of my family, to make a name for myself and not through my dragon.”

Lucerys's incredulity was palpable as he struggled to comprehend her words. "But you're a Targaryen," he protested, his voice laced with disbelief. "The blood of dragonlords from Old Valyria runs through your veins. Having dragons is the greatest symbol of our power and strength." He couldn't imagine a life without a dragon; it was unthinkable, especially for a Targaryen and for someone like him. Memories of his childhood came flooding back like an aggressive tide of the times he and the others had mercilessly teased Aemond for not having a dragon, only for him to claim the largest one alive. Lucerys swallowed hard, the memory still a bitter pill to swallow, especially when he thought of the Aemond of today.

She halted, her footsteps suddenly heavy on the stone floor, and turned back to him with an unreadable expression etched on her face. "I do not believe that," she said, her voice laced with conviction. "To me, we are more than the blood of dragons.”

Lucerys's response was immediate and firm. "Blood is everything.”

Her eyes, a light shade of purple that no other Targaryen shared, narrowed, and a spark of defiance flashed within them, lighting up like a flame. It was a glint Lucerys had never seen before—a darker, more intense, suffocating as she stepped closer, her shoulders squaring and her chin tilting upward. Lucerys felt a jolt of surprise. The gentle girl he had been introduced to had transformed before his very eyes into someone else. The corner of her lip curled into a faint, mischievous smirk, and for a fleeting moment, Lucerys could have sworn Aemond's spirit had possessed her, imbuing her with his audacity.

Her voice, usually so sweet and feathery, was laced with sarcasm that sent icy cold shivers down Lucery’s spine as she spoke. “Is that so, my prince?” Her tone dripped with irony. “Is your blood that..." Her eyes wandered over his form, her tilted head making it seem that she was speaking down on him. “Strong… that it defines who you are and determines your worth?” The emphasis on the word "strong" was a subtle challenge, a dare to Lucerys to defend his stance.

Aemond smiled to himself, filled to the brim with a sense of satisfaction as he observed the confrontation from his corner, her voice clear as she landed her verbal blow. He couldn't help but feel proud of her, amused by this feisty side of hers that she had never shown. Despite likely dying inside from the weight of her words, she had stood up to Lucerys, refusing to back down. Aemond knew she would learn to defend herself, and their nephew wouldn't easily intimidate her.

Lucerys's face flushed with anger, his ears burning as he understood the hidden message in her words, her intention to offend him clear as day. His nails dug deep into his palms to the point they almost drew blood, a desperate attempt to restrain himself from lashing out and from raising his hand to teach her a lesson about disrespect. He had to find a way to bend her to his will, and despite her venomous words, she had a rather fragile nature, and he was sure that a few swift blows would be enough to shatter her spirit.

“Anything the matter, nephew?” Aemond’s velvety voice halted the conversation between the young prince and princess, as he had made his way out of the darkness and into the light, having decided that they had spent too long together. His voice dripped with superiority, his shoulders tight as he looked down at the boy. 

They turned to face him, eyes wide as they fixed on the intimidating figure with hands clasped behind his back and a smile that froze the prince in place, a smile that seemed to revel in the power it held over others. Lucerys' skin broke out in goosebumps as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. In stark contrast, Haera’s body reacted differently the moment his calming presence washed over her; tense muscles relaxed, breathing slowed, and calmness took over her.

Lucerys, on the other hand, stumbled over his words, his voice trembling as he tried to find an excuse for their conversation that had taken a disgusting turn, eyes darting towards Haera, who seemed to be the only one immune to Aemond's intimidating aura. The prince's courage, once bold enough to consider striking his future wife, now shrank to the size of a timid rat, cowering in the face of Aemond's dominance.

Aemond turned to address his younger sister, his eye intense with adoration that seemed to suck up all the air around them, to the point Lucerys felt bitter jealousy like a kid watching someone else play with his toy. He could not lose this silent competition over Haera; she was his to claim, announced in front of everyone.

"Our mother has requested your presence," Aemond said, his voice low and husky, like the rustling of leaves in an autumn breeze. "Shall I escort you to her chambers?" He extended his arm, inviting her to take it.

And Haera smiled, the sight so beautiful that it would inspire the finest painters for their masterpieces. She placed her hand on his arm, touching gently and lovingly, and he pulled her away from Lucerys to seethe in silence. As they walked away, Haera's eyes sneakily shifted back to look at the dark-haired prince through a blurred gaze, sparkling like diamonds in candlelight, their secret message clear as day: she knew the game they played, and she would not be swayed. Aemond was the one she wanted, and he was who she was going to get.

The entire family gathered in the grand dining room after the darkness of the night took over the once clear sky, forced out of their chambers to avoid each other since Rhaenyra’s kin arrived. Even the melodic notes of the music could not fill the space between the strained relationships or clear the thick tension of the room as they sat around the table. 

The two sides of the family sat awkwardly in silence until the arrival of the King, carried in by his guards in an ornate chair that allowed him to move with ease. As he was placed in the centre of the gathering, between both sides of the family, Aemond's gaze darted to the far end of the table, where Haera had reluctantly taken her seat beside Lucerys. It had been their mother’s idea, her sullen expression telling him all he needed to know as her pouting lips and folded arms screamed defiance.

The king spoke, his wheezing voice piercing the air, the frail state of his body evident even as he rested in a seated position. He welcomed his heir and her family with genuine warmth between laboured breaths. Aemond’s mind wandered, tuning out the king as he spoke of the importance of family unity. But, as the king began to congratulate the newly formed alliances, he snapped back to the conversation. His stomach churned with disgust as their father praised Lucerys and Haera, his jaw clenched in frustration. He wasn't alone in his sentiment; Aegon, too, seemed put off by the king's flowery words, his eyes fixed on some point beyond the gathering.

Aegon couldn’t contain himself for much longer, pent-up frustration and anger simmering like a pot about to boil. His eyes darted around the room, meeting Haera’s as he looked at the faces of his family. Though her vision was blurry, she could make out the wink he sent her way, tilting his head towards the young prince beside him. 

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman.” He was a master at pushing his buttons. He took great pleasure in witnessing his reactions, his face reddening with each carefully crafted comment that would leave him fuming and frustrated, like a shaky vial of Wildfire ready to explode. “You do know how the act is done, I assume... like, where to put your cock.”

“Let it be, cousin.” Baela did her best to manage the situation before the two boys escalated it. 

However, Aegon continued; this time he addressed her instead, "I... regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer.” The young man gave her a pitiful look; the drunken joke was clear in his amethyst eyes: “But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.”

Everyone was jolted out of their casual chatter as Jace’s fist thundered down on the wooden table, the sound like a crack of lightning, and all eyes darted to the source to find him springing up from his seat. He gave Aegon’s shoulder a tight, almost brutal squeeze but then gave a playful punch to his arm. He then strode around the table with heavy footsteps and offered his hand to Aegon’s sister-wife, Helaena. 

There was a sudden spike in tension, as if there was room for any more, as Jace boldly trespassed into forbidden territory. The King, in agony, remained oblivious to the rift between the members of the royal family, his sentimental gaze fixed on the unfolding drama until his frail health betrayed him, forcing him to be escorted back to his chambers for a dose of much-needed medicine.

The servants emerged from the kitchen with steaming plates of food, momentarily easing the bubbling tension that set over the family, calming their sharp glares at each other. During the bustle, one kind-hearted servant, unaware of the significance of her actions, placed the largest, most impressive plate in front of Aemond—a massive, glistening pig', its beady eyes staring up at him like a haunting spectre from his tormented childhood.

Lucerys did not miss the way Aemond’s gaze shifted momentarily, and he let out a snort, his own dark eyes shining with mockery.

As the room fell silent, Aemond's hand came crashing down on the table to get their attention, the sound echoing through the chambers like a challenge. He rose from his seat with his cup in his hand, holding it up to toast. Everyone turned to face him, their hands tightening around their cups of wine as if bracing for an impact that would rival Vhagar’s powerful landing, eyes fixed on the one-eyed prince as his voice boomed through the hall, "Final tribute."

“To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. 

Each of them handsome, 

wise, 

strong. 

Come! 

Let us drain our cups to these three... strong... boys.”

The fragile vial of wildfire shattered, releasing the fury of the young princes as they jumped to their feet, determined to defend their honour, no matter who witnessed it. Jace moved wildly at Aemond, landing a blow to his face, who barely staggered backwards. Meanwhile, Aegon shoved Lucerys headfirst into an empty plate. The guards hesitated, taking a second too long to intervene and separate the boys, allowing the drama to unfold as the frantic mothers rushed onto the scene, their worried cries piercing the air.

Aemond's voice resonated through the air as Haera rushed towards the group that formed, her grip on her mother's shoulders tight with concern. Her older brothers stood before her, their faces tense with anger but their bodies relaxed. Jace's swift punch had left its mark after all—a small gash on the corner of Aemond's lip, a dark bruise starting to spread over his skin. "I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," Aemond said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he gazed at Haera. The real insult, however, lay in his next sentence: "Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs, an unlikely match for my sister."

The family was dismissed, and each of them was sent away to enjoy their dinners in each of their chambers. 

The flickering flame in front of Aemond captivated him, his gaze fixed on the gentle rhythm of the dancing fire. Time had passed since the tumultuous events of dinner, and he had yet to return to his chambers, finding himself in Haera’s safe library instead as he tried to ease the disgust that still lingered in his stomach. He waited for a long time to make sure everyone had returned to their chambers for sleep to avoid having anyone see him visit his beloved in her chambers.

But before he could act, the creaking of old hinges shattered the silence, and his eye darted instinctively to the source, finding no other than his girl, Haera, seemingly coming to fetch him. His heart immediately picked up the pace at the angelic sight. 

Her cloud-like hair was elegantly pulled up by a soft braid, and her slender body was delicately wrapped in the rich velvet she was accustomed to wearing to bed. Only a thin, embroidered coat rested over her shoulders, tied at the front of her chest with a delicate silk cord, covering her modestly yet radiating an aura of luxury.

The gentle smile he always saved for her tugged on his lips, the book he had been holding slipping from his hands and forgotten in the excitement of her arrival. "Haera," he whispered, his voice full of affection, as he welcomed her. The young princess sighed in relief, the tension in her shoulders finally released. Her soft eyes caressed the contours of his familiar face. "I was looking for you, brother," she said, her voice tinged with worry. Why did you leave your chambers?” The words hung in the air as if she had been searching for him everywhere, her heart heavy with anticipation.

“I needed some time to myself.” He muttered, his eyes fixed on the floor as she approached him, stopping only in front of the chair where he sat with an air of exhaustion. Now that she had moved closer, she could see the purplish bruise on the corner of his lips more clearly in his swirl of colours, and something shifted in her stomach, stirring of concern. He was leaning back on the backrest, his legs splayed out before him, signalling a sense of comfort. His coat, discarded on the floor next to him, and the leather jacket, unbuttoned and open, revealed his plain cotton undershirt. She had never seen him in such a vulnerable state, somehow so at peace after the fiery argument he had sparked with their family, like a stormy sky clearing.

Aemond noticed how her eyes travelled over his figure, absorbing every detail, and his hand motioned for her to get closer to him to take a step into his quiet world. He would have gladly slid over to allow her some space next to him and enjoy the warmth of her company. Still, she might have interpreted it differently, as she lifted herself over the cushion to sit sideways on his lap instead, her movement sudden and fluid, taking place over him as she had always belonged there.

Somehow, courage had taken over her, building from the adrenaline of dinner; if her brothers were capable of such, she was as well. Haera had promised herself that her secret would remain locked away, especially now that she was a betrothed woman, yet witnessing Aemond’s distress over the impending union with Lucerys Velaryon and the impassioned speech he delivered at dinner had ignited a fire within her. A dormant aspect of her character had awakened, a part she never knew existed. This newfound sensation felt distinct, like the first crackle of autumn leaves. It felt exhilarating and empowering. With deliberate intent, she had taken over his lap, her legs dangling off his side, her side pressed flush against his chest, and her hands settled upon his shoulders, claiming him as her own.

Aemond’s vision blurred, everything around him dissolving into nothingness as his mind came to comprehend what was happening—her gentle pressure against him. The scent of her sweet skin, a blend of flowers, enveloped him, making his senses reel. She flushed a deep crimson, her bold facade crumbling beneath a wave of embarrassment, her cheeks burning. His hands trembled with longing, hovering above her hips as if touching her would shatter her and make her disappear forever. "Sweet girl," his voice was low and husky, his throat parched as the desert. "What are you doing?" The words were barely above a whisper, a struggling sound, as if speaking too loudly would banish the moment's magic.

She responded with silence, her unsteady gaze on him, eyes narrowing to clear her vision. The proximity served them like her magnifying glass, bringing him into sharp focus. She was drawn to the subtle curve of his eyebrows, the slight crook of his nose, and the sharp cut of his chin. Her eyes lingered on the corner of his lips, where the faint imprint of the punch had turned into a delicate purple bruise, barely staining his skin. Without thinking, she reached up, her fingertips lightly tracing its edge. The gentle touch sent a shiver through Aemond's body, and he sucked in a breath, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the gesture.

She had touched him before, gentle and hesitating as she searched for his hand, arm, or shoulder to rest her head on, but that was not with the same intensity or intimacy as now. Her touch was a spark, setting his body aflame, a drive that propelled him forward with a motivation that came from the desire to be worthy of her. 

Haera’s skin felt strange, her body shifting from hot to cold and back to hot again while his hands finally came to rest on her waist, his slender fingers digging softly into the thin material of her nightgown. The voices in her head took to a contradictory choir, some screaming at her to feel more of him and the other trying to force her away, but a side was stronger and yearned to feel every inch of him, to be consumed by his presence, and for him to realise she would forever be his. The marriage to another man was nothing for her. She would forever be bound to him in her heart, and no contract or agreement could change that.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned forward, her lips brushing against the corner of his mouth in a hesitant, gentle touch. It would be her first kiss if she had pressed herself fully over his, and her inexperience in the intimacy of her touch was too evident in the way she just pushed against his skin, unsure of how to proceed. The gesture was so sweet and innocent, yet it almost sent him over the edge with a surge of heat, causing his desire to wrestle with his sense of restraint. His mind was a battleground, torn between the purity of her intention and the depravity of his own desires, as he felt the softness of her lips tantalisingly close to the spot where he wanted her to be, to devour her.

But Aemond was a gentleman; he cared for her feelings, so he refused to push her into anything she was not ready for and instead let her take the lead, allowing her to explore and discover the sensations at her own pace. 

Haera pulled back with wide, innocent eyes that sparkled with the surprise of the burning sensation on her lips, covering them with her hands as the tingling was left behind. She looked unsatisfied, her curiosity still burning bright, but she didn't know how to ask the questions she wanted to. So she tried again, her lips finally pressing squarely over his in a chaste, exploratory kiss before pulling back to gauge his reaction. She repeated this once, twice, and three times as she peppered kisses over his lips, each time pulling back to look at him with her beautiful eyes.

He realised she was testing him, watching how he responded to her touch. Aemond smiled, his grip on her waist tightening to hold her in place. “Go ahead.” He muttered, a voice reserved just for her. "You can keep going." The words were an invitation, a permission to explore, and he could sense her hesitation dissipating as she leaned in again, her lips a whisper away from his.

The next time they touched, he leaned in to meet her halfway, brushing against hers with a guiding touch to encourage her to follow his lead and discover the warmth of a real kiss, one between lovers. She immediately mirrored his movements with the soft, tender pressure when his lips danced across hers. As she tilted her head, the kiss slowly gained intensity, and she felt herself becoming lost in the sensation, the heat taking over her lower body as her desire for him grew. Despite her initial uncertainty with him, she felt an innate knowing, as if she had been kissing him all her life.

The kiss deepened, and she felt herself melting into him as the flame grew within her, body moulding to his and pressing heavily against his thighs underneath her legs. Aemond's hand cradled the back of her head, taking control of the kiss, his passion for her growing with every passing moment. His hunger was palpable, and she felt herself responding, drawn to him like a winged insect to a funeral pyre, the world around them fading into insignificance.

His tongue darted out to press itself against her lips, a gentle invitation that she accepted with boldness, granting him entrance to her mouth. He slid inside, his hot muscle caressing hers tenderly as the kiss escalated from their tongues intertwining, sending shivers down their spines as they set into a passionate rhythm with their kiss. At first, her body had stiffened, unfamiliar with the sensation, but he persisted, his gentle prodding wearing down her defences. Soon, she found herself melting into the embrace, her senses surrendering to the intensity of the moment. It was as if her entire being had been submerged in a cauldron of molten lava.

The world around her began to fade, leaving only the two of them, lost in the vortex of their passion. The air was heavy, alive with the promise of what could be, and she felt herself getting swept away by the sheer force of his desire. The kiss was no longer just a meeting of lips but a fusion of bodies that left her gasping for air yet craving more. She started to feel the overwhelming pressure of release, and her body began to sway over him, seeking for something. 

Aemond's senses grew heightened as the darkness within him began to unfurl, a dragon awakening from a deep slumber. With each deliberate roll of her hips, the danger escalated, threatening to engulf him. The thoughts swirling in his mind were primal, raw, and completely consumed by the proximity of her body to his. She had surrendered completely to him, pressing her small form against him on the worn couch, her arms wrapped tightly over his shoulders. The light of the room seemed to fade into nothing as Aemond's focus narrowed to the rhythmic movement of her hips as she began to squirm over him, the gentle pressure of her body, and the sweet curve of her neck as his hands began to travel over her body, feeling her form under his rough palms. 

His mind wandered, consumed by the forbidden thought: could he claim her innocence? The notion sent a searing flame through his gut, fuelled by the knowledge that she was promised to another for political alliances, someone devoid of honour and talent. Another would never cherish her like he could, never adore her like he would. Aemond, a man of substance, could provide her with everything her heart desired. He would mount Vhagar, his majestic dragon, and fetch the moon itself if that's what she yearned for.

Yet he resisted the temptation to take her on that chair, despite the alluring sight of her sitting over him, her barely covered body pressing against him, unknowingly seeking pleasure as she rocked herself over him. She merited more than a fleeting passion; she deserved to be cherished and worshipped. The chair limited him to mere sensations—the feel of her skin, the rhythm of her movements, the sweetness of her taste. He needed to be patient to witness the moment she discovered true pleasure for the first time.

Perhaps if he were her first—the first to touch her, to feel her, to take her maidenhead—he would leave an indelible mark on her soul. She would remember him forever, even on her wedding night and the following nights. Even without the most intimate of touches, she had awakened a deep longing within him that he couldn't ignore. He yearned to be the one to ignite the flames of true pleasure within her and to hear her soft, velvety voice whisper his name in rapturous surrender. The thought of another person claiming the right to shatter her, to push her to the limits, and to witness her stunning features twisted in ecstasy was unbearable. She would see him, not some other man, in her mind's eye. Maybe she would gaze upon her firstborn child and imagine what a child with him would look like—a Valyrian offspring with snow-white hair and piercing purple eyes. The thought tormented him, a sweet temptation that echoed through his being.

He refused to let the beast win—that beast that wanted to break her innocence over a pathetic chair, as tempting as she was in her sheer gown. Instead, he encircled her waist with his arms and drew her nearer, their lips parting with the most lustful sound as they pulled apart to breathe, a translucent string of saliva still connecting their mouths. She let herself fall over him, her head resting on his shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath. The love he harboured for her was a tidal wave, threatening to engulf him at any moment, but having her close and feeling her warmth and weight in his embrace was a balm to his troubled mind. It was as if the world, with all its cares and worries, receded, leaving only the two of them, lost in the silence of their own private universe.

Nothing could prepare them for what would come next.

ᡣ𐭩 ─ author's note ;

i HATE this chapter lol. i feel like it's so much of the show content that i didn't really play around with more stuff, but at least i added an alone moment with lucerys and finally a moment with aemond at the end, to help spice things a little bit before that inevitable chapter where everything goes to shit.

as i think i have said before, this is not a story that will continue with the show or books, so after chapter three there will only be two more chapters remaining and i'm planning for the last one to be almost no-plot smut, since that is what this series was originally. i have added the posibilities to little "spin-offs" one shots in the masterlist and if everything goes right i will go through with them but after i'm done posting other content.

i apologize for any mistakes in grammar or something, i did not have much time for editing but i'm hoping that it gets better by the next chapters! i'm definitely trying to pull my big guns for the last two chapters for sure.

a big question; should i cover blood & cheese completely, or let it be something that happens in the background and is not written down? it will happen, and it will be referenced, i just don't know if i want to write it all going down.

chapter two; Sunday 10th. ╰⪼ thank you for reading!

[brokenmenswhore]

betrothals & brothels | aegon, aemond, & jace

part 3

pairings: aegon targaryen x stark fem!reader, aemond targaryen x stark fem!reader, jacaerys velaryon x stark fem!reader

series summary: aemond targaryen tells the realm that you, the lady of house stark, are to wed him and secure a partnership in the north. in protest, you agree to marry jacaerys velaryon, affirming the north’s allegiance to rhaenyra. when the news hits king’s landing, aegon decides it’s better to have you under his watchful eye until the political partnership is solidified, but doesn’t realize you have a life away from your duty as a stark

chapter warnings: angst (a lil from everyone)

a/n: are you guys dying for the smut are you just dying for it i promise we’re almost there

series masterlist

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“This is your fault!” Aegon screamed, bursting into the small council room, doors swinging shut as he slammed a thin piece of paper down on the table in front of Aemond.

Aemond remained level-headed, eye traveling down to the paper in front of him as he began to read.

“You,” Aegon stomped forward, an accusatory finger pointed at his brother, “you granted her access to a raven. She must have asked him to come. This is on you.”

“Speak plainly, Aegon,” Alicent snapped, elbows resting on the table as she wiped her fingers across her eyes in frustration, “we do not understand your hysterics.”

“The precious prince allowed his newly betrothed to send a letter to Dragonstone,” Aegon spat, “without clearing its contents.”

“I do not understand,” Alicent spoke.

“Our beloved nephew has requested to visit,” Aemond spoke, completely unphased by the rage exhibited by his brother, “he is aware the Stark girl is here.”

“Jacaerys requested an audience with you?” Alicent clarified, bewildered at the boldness of the young prince.

“He must only be so bold by request. She must have requested he ask such a thing. He would not do it on his own. I dare say his cock is not big enough.”

“Aegon!” his mother scolded, taking a deep breath, “I assume we are all in agreement that this is not permissible?”

Lord Wylde, Master of Laws, raised a hand, “if I may, Your Grace, denying this request may only worsen things.”

“How?” Aegon asked.

“If the boy does not intend to commit an infraction against the crown, denying him travel may seem like an act of fear. The false queen may believe you see her as a threat that cannot breach the castle walls, for if she does, she will take the throne.”

“And you think her capable of doing such things should she be in my presence, Lord Wylde?” Aegon said, standing at the head of the table, palms flat against the wood.

“Your Grace, I mean no offense-“

“We are talking about Jacaerys, not the false queen, Lord Wylde,” Aemond interrupted, “and he would not dare try anything rash. He knows he would not survive a battle against my sword.”

Aegon raised a hand and gestured toward his brother. “Are you saying you think the crown should allow this visitation?”

“I do not see why not.”

“Are you simply trying to absolve yourself of guilt, brother?” Aegon’s tone began to calm down, “for you are the one to blame here.”

“Why don’t I simply ask the girl if she requested his presence?” Aemond suggested, sighing through the words in annoyance at his brother’s temperament.

“She would not tell you,” Aegon replied.

“I believe she would. She is many things, but she has not yet proven herself to be dishonest.”

“If she is so trustworthy, why did she insist on sending a letter without clearance in the first place? What do you possibly think her writings contained? A declaration of her love for you?”

Aemond slammed a hand on the desk and stood up abruptly, his chair sliding back on the stone floor behind him. Aegon was taunting him now.

“If you think yourself incapable of holding ground against our nephew, then by all means, brother, deny his request. I, however, know that no destruction could come from the hands of Jacaerys. I believe him too weak. Do you not?”

Aegon sighed in frustration, trying to remain discreet with his eyes as he glanced to the members of the council, all staring at him in wait.

“Mother?” he spoke, head turned toward Alicent, awaiting her input.

“It is rather dangerous,” she began, her mild slightly changed, “but I believe it may be taken as a sign of good faith. We simply must be diligent in our protective measures upon his arrival.”

Aegon dropped his head. He did not want Jacaerys to come to King’s Landing- he hated his young nephew. Jacaerys was Rhaenyra’s heir, making him a direct threat to Aegon’s crown, and Jacaerys was the reason everything with you had become so difficult. Aemond was not a great help, but if Jacaerys had not proposed a betrothal upon hearing Aemond’s announcement of his intentions to wed you, Aegon would not be in this predicament.

Denying this request was an assurance of Aegon’s safety against the Blacks, but could also be taken as a gesture of war, a true strife between a broken family. Accepting this request put Aegon’s livelihood in danger, but he did not want to appear weak enough as to think Jacaerys could be a legitimate threat to him or his power.

“Does no one think the boy may have ulterior motive?” spoke Ser Tyland Lannister, Master of Coin, “we are discussing inviting the enemy into our walls. There should be no question about what decision is best. He should not come.”

“What do you believe he is capable of, Ser Tyland?” Aemond asked, almost mocking.

“For one, how are we to ensure only he will arrive? Granting him access to our city may spark a chain reaction. Other Blacks may think it okay to come here. Rhaenyra herself, for one.”

The small council remained quiet, debating upon Tyland’s words. Many of them had not considered the possibility of Rhaenyra taking the opportunity to come, likely on dragonback.

“We should be worried about Rhaenyra always, not just if her son were to come,” Ser Criston Cole chimed in, “if she intended on bringing herself and Syrax here, she would have done so. She does not need a formal invitation. I believe her capable of doing as she pleases, when she pleases. The threat of her arrival is always imminent, I do not believe it more prominent should we allow your nephew to come, Your Grace.”

“Ser Cole is right,” Aemond agreed, “the same applies for our young nephew. If he wanted to, he could simply arrive of his own volition. He, instead, had the courtesy to request an audience with us, lest he decide to take it by force instead. We should take this request as a gesture of good will.”

“Does no one understand how detrimental this would be?” Aegon said, clearly becoming frustrated with the council he was receiving, “we are at war. There is a tremendous deal of pressing matters to attend to and we are here, discussing if it is wise to allow the enemy into our home.”

“None of us believe this war could have been avoided,” Alicent’s tone was calm, pulling Aegon out of his head, “but I believe there are those of us that wish it different. He is still your family, and he truly may just want to see the Stark girl. Maybe this will render our situation capable of change.”

Aegon took his mother’s words to heart. He was perhaps the only one who truly wanted a war, he was angry, and he wanted to spill blood, but he trusted his mother. Catastrophes may have been avoided if there was still a sense of family amongst the Targaryens.

“Tell him to come,” Aegon said, “but only come alone.”

✶

Aegon had considered storming into your chambers, voice raised and demanding to know the contents of your letter to Jacaerys, but he had not seen or spoken to you since his moment of vulnerability. He did not know what to say or how to act in your presence, and he thought it better to avoid placing himself in any circumstance that would require him to think of it.

Instead, he found himself beside Aemond, watching from atop the Red Keep as Vermax’s wings came into focus, a hint of green visible in the distant sky when the sun hit at just the right angle.

When Aegon felt comfortable that it was only Jacaerys who was approaching, he retreated to the throne room, Aemond maintaining his position to assist in security measures should the King’s Guard need him.

Jacaerys landed Vermax directly in front of the Keep doors, the wind from the dragon’s wings nearly knocking over guards and smallfolk alike.

The moment Vermax calmed, Jacaerys left his mount, feet not on the ground for a moment before the King’s Guard rushed him and began to pat him down. His hand remained tightly secured to the hilt of his sword, at is always had, as the men stepped away, gesturing him forward. Jacaerys nodded, entering the keep and directing himself toward the throne room. He expected nothing less of his uncle, knowing his desire to appear powerful would manipulate his choice of placement.

He marched forward, the guards desperately attempting to keep up with his footing, as he swung the doors to the throne room open, finding Aegon sat upon the mess of swords, expecting his entrance.

Jacaerys did not bow, the only reason he stopped at the steps of the throne being a gesture of good faith, an assurance he did not intend to charge his uncle, sword in hand.

“It has been quite a while, uncle,” Jacaerys spoke, matter-of-factly.

It bothered Aegon to no end that he did not speak first. “As it has.”

Jacaerys and Aegon exchanged a glance for a brief few moments, neither sure of how to initiate a conversation.

Jacaerys took a deep breath, fighting with every cell of his being to remain calm. “You know why I am here, uncle. Where is she?”

Aegon smiled, his posture resting in a casual position on the throne. “You already know her whereabouts. Is that not why you’ve come?”

“Let me see her.”

“No.”

“Let me. See her,” Jacaerys repeated, a pause between the words.

“Or what?”

Jacaerys cocked his head to the side, trying to control his breathing. He refused to be the reason any hostility was initiated.

“Do you think I’ve traveled all this way for a bickering match?”

Despite Jace’s better judgement, he could not mask his bitter tone.

“You asked to come. I do not remember ever promising you an audience with the Stark.”

“Her brother misses her dearly.”

“I am sure he does.”

“As do I.”

Aegon did not expect anything remotely close to a genuine confession from Jacaerys. He searched Jacaerys’s eyes for any hint of regret, but to no avail. Jacaerys had meant to toy with Aegon’s heart; there was hope that if Aegon could view him as human, as family once again, he would he more lenient with granting requests. He knew Aegon had a somewhat tender heart underneath his cold exterior.

“She is not a piece of property, Aegon, tell me where you are keeping her.”

“Soon she will be wed to Aemond, in which case, she will be more my family than yours. She is not property, sure. She is Aemond’s.”

“We do not hold family hostage.”

“How is your mother? Hm?” Aegon started, beginning to play with the fabric on the hilt if his dagger as he shifted the subject, “still crying over a lost throne?”

Jacaerys’ nostrils flared in annoyance, the muscles on his neck flexing as Aegon laughed, happy to have garnered a reaction from his nephew. He loved to tease Jace, annoy him, get him all worked up, and force him into a rage. Jacaerys knew this, and fought against it as hard as he could.

“Be nice, brother, Jacaerys is family after all,” Aemond interrupted, a confident walk taking him across the room until he was standing but a few feet away from Jacaerys. “Besides, who wouldn’t want to see the girl? She is all too pleasurable to look at.”

“Mind your tongue, uncle,” Jacaerys snapped back.

“You are rather possessive of my betrothed,” Aemond teased.

Jacaerys took a deep breath, bowing his head briefly to reset his temperament. “Where is she, Aemond?”

“In her room, where else?”

“It is not her room if it is not her home.”

“Aemond will be her home soon,” Aegon chimed in, “and I’ve already told you you may not see her. She is not permitted to leave her chambers.”

Jacaerys’s brow furrowed in slight confusion as he looked back and forth between his two uncles. “First you kidnap her, and now you do not even grant her the courtesy of leaving a singular room?”

“Though I will say, Aemond seems to have no issue letting her out at will,” Aegon spoke, resentment evident in his voice.

“Meaning what?” Jacaerys asked for clarification.

“Meaning nothing,” Aemond said, rushing to get the words in before Aegon could elaborate.

The three Targaryens exchanged glances, unsure how to continue. The conversation was going nowhere, and Jacaerys was concerned about Aegon’s previous comment. What was Aemond doing to you?

“I did not come all this way for nothing,” Jacaerys stated, “let me see her.”

“What do we get in return for granting you an audience?” Aemond bartered.

“The gift of keeping your life.”

Aemond snickered. “You could not beat me if you tried.”

“I do not wish to. I, however, will do whatever it takes.”

“You would dare draw your sword at us just to speak with your Northern whore?” Aegon threw your scandalous reputation at Jacaerys, hoping it would strike a chord and cause him to act irrationally.

“I would,” Jacaerys focused on Aegon, “and if she is truly a whore, you should exhibit no true possessiveness toward her.”

Aegon stood, ready to combat his nephew’s words, potentially with his dagger.

“Under supervision, of course,” Aemond spoke, cutting off Aegon’s thoughts and actions, “I’m sure such a thing can be arranged.”

“I do not answer to you,” Jacaerys spat.

“Then why did you ask permission to come here?”

“I will not be responsible for worsening a war.”

Aemond gave Jacaerys a slight nod. Aemond’s greatest gift was his inability to be manipulated. Each and every decision he made was cold and calculated, never faltering on his own personal plans.

“I’m sure you expect conditions.”

“I do not need a handmaiden present to speak to my future wife.”

“You will not have a handmaiden present,” Aemond sighed, “but I require to be present for anyone who expects an audience with my betrothed.”

Aegon sighed and threw his hands up. Aemond had a habit of negotiating, despite never seeking Aegon’s authority to do so.

Jacaerys remembered your letter. It is imperative that he believe me good on my word. He was angry, and unafraid to contest your betrothal to Aemond, believing you to still be betrothed to him. He would call you his betrothed to the ends of the earth, but he was cautious to not mentioned your promise to him in your letter.

“Fine.”

If it meant he could see you, he would bear more time spent with his uncle.

Aemond showed Jacaerys to your quarters, silence befalling them both. They had much to say to one another, but neither of them wanted to fight. Aemond just wanted Jacaerys to leave, and Jacaerys just wanted to see you.

Aemond gave a small knock to your apartment door, something he never did.

The unfamiliar sound caught you off guard. “Come in,” you called toward the door, expecting to see an inexperienced handmaiden enter.

When Aemond appeared, you stood up abruptly, nervous as to why he was here in the middle of the day. Was he revoking your access to the streets? Had Aegon discovered your secret? Was he aware of your business in the streets? Were you being further punished for existing?

Every worry, every thought, every nervous feeling swiftly left your body as Jacaerys walked through the door, stopping short the moment he saw you. Your breathing caught in your throat, a sharp gasp lost before it could be completed.

Jacaerys’s features softened the instant he saw you. He nearly forgot how beautiful you were. The crown had only given you lavish green dresses, forcing you to look as one of them. Despite Jacaerys’s internal recoil at the sight, you wore the color well, and he knew it was not your choice. He believed that you would look beautiful in any color, even that of the enemy.

“Jacaerys,” you spoke, so softly he wouldn’t have heard it if he wasn’t giving you his complete attention.

“Hi,” he spoke, both of you completely frozen in place.

Aemond noticed the way you looked at his nephew. Your eyes was softer than they were when they were focused on him, your gaze usually cold and callous, unable to show any vulnerability in front of him. When you looked at Jacaerys, your features relaxed so much, you nearly cried. It bothered Aemond. He did not realize how much you truly resented him until he saw how you gazed upon someone you did not resent.

“W-“ you choked. You were nearly crying from overwhelming disbelief, and a lack of trust at the situation, “what are you doing here?”

“I had to see you,” Jacaerys said, moving his feet toward you in desperation to touch you, “I had to know you were alright.”

Jacaerys took your hands in his own. His voice dropped, low and soft enough to signify his words were only meant for your ears, not Aemond’s, “and I missed you.”

A few tears fell from your eyes as you disconnecting your hands, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pulled him close. Jace’s hands wrapped around your waist, holding you tightly as he pulled you as close to him as he could. Your bodies melted together, the comfort of one another consuming you until your eyes blinked open and you saw Aemond, the sudden reminder that you were not alone, and you were not as safe as you felt in Jacaerys’s arms.

You pulled away from the hug, turning away from Jacaerys and taking a seat in front of the fireplace. Despite the early hour, the fire was lit, the dancing of the flames the only entertainment and stimulation for you during your days.

Jacaerys followed you, kneeling down on the floor in front of you. “Are you okay?” he counciled.

You discreetly gestured toward the door, reminding him that Aemond was present, and therefore you had to act differently than you would if you were alone.

“He insisted on supervision,” Jacaerys explained, disappointment in his voice.

“Nothing more pressing to attend to?” you called toward the door, turning slightly so Aemond knew the question was meant for him.

“You know I like to keep an eye on you,” Aemond responded, referencing him escorting you at night, hoping the mystery of his words would bother Jacaerys.

Jacaerys took a sharp breath. “I want you to come back with me.”

Your eyes widened. “I do not wish to remain here, Jace, but Vhagar is capable of melting much more snow.”

You could both hear Aemond snicker behind you, but neither acknowledged it.

“If you stay here, I fear they can force your hand,” Jacaerys pleaded.

“They have already forced my hand,” your voice broke, fighting any sadness or tears in your confession.

“You have promised yourself to me,” Jacaerys whispered, hoping Aemond was not intent on listening, whispering almost inaudibly “or did you not mean your written words? I will not allow them to force you to abandon me.”

There was no volume low enough to avoid Aemond’s impeccable hearing, especially when he was determined to hear every word his nephew spoke. Aemond stomped over in a rage.

“You what?” Aemond snarled, eye focused on you.

“What?” you responded, playing dumb with a confidence that had him almost believing you.

“I trusted you,” Aemond was furious, “I trusted you to do the right thing, and instead you sent a raven saying you intend to honor your betrothal to him? Did we not have an understanding?”

Despite his anger, Aemond mostly felt betrayed. He thought there was an unspoken understanding of trust between you two, and he was jealous of your affections toward Jacaerys.

“Have I given you any reason to relinquish your trust in me?” you combatted.

“Do you think me a fool?” Aemond spat, “I heard your little catch-up.”

You stood, Jacaerys following suit and standing guard next to you as you began to raise your voice at Aemond. “What did you expect of me? You hold me captive, begin to burn my house, force my hand in marriage, confine me each and every day, and only let me free to pursue your own exploits. Did you think me growing affectionate toward you for simply unlocking a door that I do not deserve to have locked? You and your brother have been nothing but cruel. The only kind thing you’ve done for me in my time here is allow me to see Jacaerys, and I am sure you have your own reasons for such things. You should not dare take issue with me, Aemond.”

“Our agreement, lest you forget, included you renouncing him and acknowledging your betrothal to me. You did not follow through, and therefore there is no understanding between us anymore. I’m sure you will find the dungeons quite comfortable.”

“Try as you will, you are simply mad that she cannot be controlled,” Jacaerys defended you. He knew you didn’t need it, but he would try regardless.

“Mind your tongue.”

Jacaerys unsheathed his sword, pointing the tip at Aemond. The room stilled for a moment.

Aemond made a swift move to mimic Jacaerys’s actions, the two men armed, your body the only thing between them.

You desperately wished you had some sort of weaponry as defense. You always wanted to learn the skills of the sword, but the men of the Watch never let you participate, only allowing you to spectate.

“Do it,” Aemond taunted.

“You do not have the authority to banish someone to the dungeons, for you are not the King,” Jacaerys matched his tone.

“Strike me, nephew. If you truly dare.”

“Would you both please sheath your weapons? Aemond, I am nothing more than your prisoner. The dungeons cannot hold my temper the very same way this room cannot.”

“Then you shall not mind the change of scenery.”

“You underestimate me,” you threatened.

“You underestimate us both,” Jacaerys huffed in anger.

“Well well well, I see this is going well,” Aegon smiled, strutting into the room, “I expected nothing less.”

“She must be taken to the dungeons, brother,” Aemond informed.

“I told you as such upon my arrival,” you reminded them.

Aegon approached you. “Shall we?”

“I would hope you know me better than to simply go at will.”

Aegon called the King’s Guard stationed by his side at all times to enter the room, four different men swarming you and holding your arms behind your back. Jacaerys dropped his sword down, looking for any entrance to help you, but found none. You jumped and kicked and clawed, adamant on not going down without a fight. You elbowed one of the men straight in his nose, blood rushing down his mouth and chin as he stumbled backward at the sudden pain. You took the opportunity to twist the arm he was holding back in front of you, punching the man directly in front of you. As your fist approached his face, Aemond caught your wrist, gripping tightly as he shoved the arm behind your back again, his other hand occupied with the sword that was now at your throat.

You remained cautiously still, but refused to show any sense of fear.

“Do it,” you spat, “it would be a great relief from spending the rest of my days with the likes of you.”

The blade pressed harder into your neck. Jacaerys stopped closer to you, but Aemond shot him a look. Jacaerys raised his sword again, the tip facing Aemond again. “Drop it.”

“Make me,” Aemond replied.

Aemond shoved his body into your side, nearly making you fall as you stumbled closer to the door, the men of the Guard seizing the opportunity to walk you out of the room and toward the dungeons, Aemond keeping his hand around your wrist.

Jacaerys and Aegon were left alone in your (now previous) chambers, the sun beginning to fade from the windows.

“You may take your leave now,” Aegon said.

“You do not expect me to just leave when you’ve impriso-“

“Take your leave.”

Jacaerys sighed. He needed more strength, more dragonfire, more support. He knew his talents, but he knew himself not capable of defeating both of his uncles on his own. He hated Aemond, but he would be a fool to not admit Aemond’s capabilities when wielding a blade.

Jacaerys stomped out of the room, ignoring anyone in his path as he marched back to Vermax.

✶

When you were placed in your cell, the men immediately locked the door and left, leaving you trapped with Aemond peeking into your cell as if you were a caged animal.

“Feel safer, do you?” you taunted, “is a woman truly so much of a threat to the one-eyed prince?”

“You are here by your own volition,” Aemond told you, “it did not have to come to this.”

“I could have spoken those words to you the moment you commanded Vhagar upon my home.”

Aegon dropped his head. “What will it take for you to not be so combative?”

“I will never stop being combative, especially so long as you treat me like this.”

“I would not have to treat you like this if you stopped acting like this.”

You began to raise your voice. There was no point in holding back now. “This started when you decided to announce a betrothal to the realm that I did not consent to! I had no reason to ever know you until your idiot brother saw no other way to secure an alliance in the North but to strip me of my right to choose a proper husband! I never wanted any part of your war, Aemond, and now you are punishing me for it.”

Aemond slammed his hands against the cell door, the metal violently banging and clashing. “I have never, in all my years-“

“That’s enough,” Aegon interrupted, “leave us, will you brother?”

Aemond desperately needed to calm down, his breathing erratic, his cheeks red. “I was in the middle of-“

“Leave us.”

Aegon was serious now, glaring at his brother until he was out of sight.

“You stupid fucking whore,” he spat at you, “it was my brother’s own fault for trusting you.”

“You’re the one who allowed Jacaerys to come here, are you not? I had no part in such.”

“Did you not request his presence? In your special little letter to your prince?”

You gave him a confused look. “You believe I told him to ask for such things?”

“I would not trust if you denied it, so do not even bother,” Aegon sighed, taking a seat on a guard stool a few feet away, resting his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together.

“So what is your plan? To keep me captive forever? To only let me out on my wedding night and force me to carry your brother’s seed? To hope that I die in child birth and allow your men to find my newborn crying on this floor?”

“What do you expect me to do with you? I need your house on my side.”

“I’d rather you have asked nicely, to speak plainly.”

“And you would have bent the knee if I had?” Aegon questioned.

“Absolutely not.”

“So you see why I must resort to force.”

“Did you ever question whether or not you are deserving of my House’s allegiance? Do you truly think yourself worthy of any noble house’s support? You resort to pain and force and threats, but never bargain with any Lord or Lady for how their allegiance to you may benefit them. You are not fit to be a king.”

“I am!” Aegon yelled, shooting upward and approaching your cell door, “I am fit to rule, and I am ruling! You shall wish your brother bends the knee to me. You will be terrible collateral damage should he not.”

“You have imprisoned me in your dungeon, Aegon, is that not damage enough for you?”

“Winterfell has not yet raised my banner.”

“Winterfell will never raise your banner,” you stated.

“We shall see.”

“You will not see,” you fought back, “my brother is much too smart to bend the knee to you. He knows me capable of caring for myself, even with your constant bitching and bombardment.”

Aegon sighed. He put his face as close to you as the bars would allow him. “I have never loathed another as much as I loathe you.”

“The feeling is mutual.”

Aegon stomped away up the stairs and out of your sight, leaving you abandoned in your prison cell. You began to scan the room, looking for any way to escape. No windows, makes sense. Solitary, no one else around, not that they could be much help. The lock can be picked, but there’s nothing here I can use to unlock it. They would not be so stupid as to leave something that I could use to-

As the thought crossed your head, your hands clasped your stomach, and you felt the multitude of adornments on your gown. The King and his brother had made one grave mistake: they locked you up in one of the finest gowns you had ever worn, which included a Targaryen house symbol pin sewn into the center of the navel area fabric.

A pin.

────── ☾ ──────

tags: @torchbearerkyle @dracaryxzs @hangmanscoming @callsignwidow @velvetcrowbarcherry @kravitzwhore @darlingisntit @not-neverland06 @albionfay @cluz1babe @flusteredmoonn @sab-falco

[jacespookiebear]

ೃ࿐ 𝙔𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙜 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙗𝙚𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙛𝙪𝙡: 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 7

summary : you are the youngest daughter of Viserys I Targaryen and Aemma Arryn. Outlived your mother and your older twin brother, Baelon, in childbirth. You were titled as (Y/n) “The Undying” Targaryen.

pairing : jacaerys velaryon x targaryen!reader

warnings : incest, tension, sexual content, age gap (reader is about 2-3 years older), jace is about a year older in this fic, misogyny, self-harm, violence, angst, teen pregnancy, birth, meraxes is alive and thriving with vhagar :D

Masterlist

It was the big day. Your wedding. Well you could say your weddings. You had decided to keep it quick, you would marry under the seven while you were all still in King’s Landing. The happiest look on your step-mother’s face when you said this, smothering you in kisses before letting you be attended by Lysanna.

“How are you feeling?” Lysanna asked, placing your hair in a pretty hairstyle with braids crowning your head with the silver snood tucked underneath that she placed on your hair, curling all of the hair that was left down with her hands. You took a deep breath in to breath it all out, you were getting married in an hour, you never felt so nervous in your entire life. But it wasn’t official until you got married at Dragonstone. This could be seen as practice, except it was seen as real to your step-mother.

Lysanna helped you of your night gown and started lacing the wedding gown tight around your waist, it looked marvelous. “I am alright. I do hope it’ll be quick.” you answered, playing with your rings once again, twisting them up and down your fingers.

Lysanna let out a “hmph” before talking, “You truly look like a Princess on her wedding day.” The words danced around your mind, the anxiety wasn’t going down anytime soon. “Drink some water, please.”

About to ask if Lysanna needed help with changing once you sipped out of your cup but noticed quickly that she had already finished readying herself. You both walked to the celebration hall instead of the Sept. You let Lysanna enter the hall to join the rest of your family, you were waiting for your father to join you by your side, “my sweet daughter, you look beautiful.” he kissed your cheek as your handmaiden came over to place your House colors cloak around your shoulders, it had your sigil as well. The doors had opened and everyone turned to see who was revealed, you stepped inside to begin walking towards your soon-to-be-husband. Both of your families separated on each side, feeling a tug at your hand, you turned to your father who gave you a smile to which you return with a slight one. Your main focus was on Jace, his attire contained of black and gold, the gold appeared to be more darker than the gold that was on your dress. His jewelry seemed to ones that were once owned by his father, the sapphires and emeralds shining from the light on the windows.

He looked very dashing and seemed like Daemon had to help which made you smile even more. You had arrived walking down the aisle and stood next to Jace, he held no smile or emotion on his face. You understood why, he’s forced into a wedding he had no desire for. He held dislike for the Faith and you knew this. Your guilt was starting to come back.

You kept your eyes on the Septon who spoke for minutes that seemed like hours about the Faith and how you should devote yourself to the Seven. You turned to look over to your family, your sisters were smiling ear to ear and looking genuine. Daeron was also smiling and only nodded towards you once you gazed at him, mouthing to you, “you’ll be okay.” Aemond looked rather emotionless to you as well, you planned on speaking to him before you would have to leave. As for Aegon, he was staring off to space and not caring for the wedding at all, he was absolutely drunk and everyone could tell from the way he was always losing balance until Otto shoved him to act right. Daemon was holding onto Luke and Rhaena to keep them by his side while the Septon was speaking, you swore you saw Rhaena squeezing Daemon’s arm.

It had finally came to taking off your cloak. You gently took off the cloak by yourself, not wanting to worry your father since he already had use most of strength to walk you down and give you away. You folded it slowly, setting it on the ground next to you and Jace.

As well as Jace took off his cloak, with House Velaryon and Targaryen colors and their sigils on the cloak, he draped it over your shoulders. You held the cloak close to you, not wanting to let it go. After placing the cloak on you, he spoke his vows, “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lady and wife,” he finished.

You gave him a genuine smile before starting your vows, “With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband.” The Septon now granted you both were married, “You are one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever,” he finished, closing the book. You both connected hands and slowly, you reached to kiss him on the lips. It was more of a peck than a kiss, it was your first kiss— you had no idea what you were doing. Lowering your head in embarrassment, trying to hide your head away from him but it did not help.

Alicent was the first to clap, smiling happily during the whole ceremony. Everyone all followed to clap but not as enthusiastically as your step-mother. You and Jace walked down together, hand-in-hand, not making any effort to speak to one another. You separated ways to head to your chambers to change, you were traveling back to dragonstone for your real wedding that was happening rather very soon. Though, this time it’ll only be you, Jace, and the rest of Rhaenyra’s family that will be attending.

So once you changed into your evening gown, you left the room as Lysanna called out your name, confused on where you’re going. You began to look around the castle for Aemond. To finally talk to him, to finally hug him, to finally-

“Sister?” Aemond called out, suspiciously, you turned to look to your side and found him standing by the corridors. His eyepatch was black, as dark as the midnight sky, his hair was getting more longer and his scar was healing day by day. He was getting older, and you weren’t here to see it. Immediately, you reached over and hugged him tightly. Sighing into the hug, he was rather left confused as you began to mumble.

“I have wanted to hug you ever since I arrived. Why have you been avoiding me, Aemond?” Removing yourself from his warmth, you stared into your brother’s eye, he pursed his lips and stared at his feet instead. Still grasping both of his hands and searching his face for an answer.

“I was afraid that..” he mumbled, afraid to finish his sentence. “that you have hated me after what had happened.” Finally answered, your eyes filling with tears and took him back into your arms. On your tippy toes, placing wet kisses all over his head, you knew he hated being babied by you but he let you do so. “My sweet brother, I could never hate you. You are my young brother and now we both ride the eldest dragons.” Holding his chin between your fingers, he no longer possessed chubby cheeks, his jawline was more defined.

The thought of you both riding Vhagar and Meraxes in glory was a great one, Aemond rubbed his thumbs on your waist as to soothe you both. “Marriage does not suit you, sister.”

You shook your head at his statement, you knew that as well. Your marriage was falling apart already, even your brother could see it. “I know.”

“It’ll get easier,” he muttered, “I shall be here for you.”

“Thank you.” you calmly said. Exchanging final goodbyes, you hugged him one last time. Your luggages were already packed since last night and they were out in the carriage. You bid farewell to your other family members, especially Helaena who had just received news from the maester that she was pregnant, you felt so distraught and disgusted that you can’t be here to help her. She was younger than you and was already having children. Promising her that she could arrive on dragonback to dragonstone anytime if she needed you or Rhaenyra.

“I’m so glad I got to see you sister,” Helaena whispered, the sadness was wretching your heart, at that moment you wished you could ask Rhaenyra if you could stay in King’s Landing just for a few months but you knew that was less likely to happen.

Giving her cheek a long and deep kiss before parting, “My sweet, you will see me again.” You felt like you were reassuring yourself more than to Helaena.

The ride back to dragonstone was a long and silent one. Rhaenyra and Daemon stayed inside the boat while you watched over Luke, Rhaena, and Liz who were playing with the wooden figures that belonged to Luke. All of your dragons flying above your boat, screeching to each other. You were nearly five feet away from Jace, sitting by the chairs that were next to the crashing waves, neither of you speaking. The silence was killing you, he was making no effort to talk to you but you could say the same for yourself.

You were wishing you were riding on Meraxes right now, you barely had any time now with her and you knew she missed you deeply. The ever so elegant dragon would always wail outside of dragonstone for your attention, poor girl, she was getting old and your time with her was ticking. But, she wasn’t alone. She was spending most days with Vermax, who would always try to play with her, her patience always ran out quick with the smaller dragon but would usually let him lay with her after he hunts dinner around the island for her.

Finally for what felt like hours, you all arrived on dragonstone. Letting Rhaenyra and Daemon step out of the boat first, you came out second while helping the younger kids. Turning to look over at the rocks, the preparations for your wedding were being made and they were quick with it. You were feeling rushed to change, you wanted to take it all slowly, this was your actual wedding and yet you weren’t as excited as you hoped to be.

Being rushed into a bath once you entered your chambers, your handmaidens were scrubbing you down harshly, making you moan and wince in pain as they mutter their apologies for being quick and rough. Their hands were forcing you into many positions to scrub other parts of your body, Lysanna was by your side, washing your hair with much more of a gentle touch and rinsing off the suds with colder water.

“Careful! Her skin is tender now!” Lysanna scolded the handmaidens, who were smearing your now smooth skin from the endless scrubbing with rose oil. They were all treating you like a child taking a bath for the first time, you were overwhelmed by how much a hurry they seemed to be. It felt like your wedding was already happening while you were still naked.

You mindlessly stared outside the huge window, silencing biting your lip from how cold their hands felt on your skin, they were making sure you smelled lovely like usual— lathering you in so much scented oils, you felt yourself almost become lightheaded from the varieties of smells. Though, you appreciated the massaging your young handmaiden was doing on your shoulders.

But you couldn’t stop the chills that wouldn’t leave your body, shivering with your teeth clattering. Lysanna wrapped yourself in your robe to pat the wetness down. “You all may leave now. I’ll handle her wedding robes.” Lysanna ordered, the handmaidens bowed and left your chambers for you to finish being attended to.

“Aw, Y/n! They’re lovely.” In her hands were the robes you would wear to your wedding. Not paying attention like Liz was, still looking out the window until she forced your attention back. Blinking your eyes to see clearly, you were struck with awe, the seamstress seemed to add more details to them. They were still the dark blue and black color you had tried on. The ends were blue but as they traveled up it became darker then black at the upper body area, The end of the robes, the arms, and the top of the first layer, were covered in the dark blue color but had Meraxes and Vermax sewed in.

“She added the dragons..” you breathlessly sighed, holding the robes in your hands.

Lysanna nodded without speaking another word, turning to untie your bath robes and left it laying on the ground. Making sure your body was dry enough, she wrapped the upper robes around you, tying the fabric to tighten your waist, adding the last layer over your stomach and shoulders, letting the black belt wrapped around the ends of the first layer to blend in. Finally, she had adjusted the lower bottoms of the robes to reach your feet, just in case you weren’t able to walk freely in it.

“You look like an Old Goddess,” she breathed, you were almost convinced to believe her once you saw yourself in the mirror, but you realized the headpiece was missing.

Turning around to look around for it but Lysanna caught on and stopped you, adding the silvery headpiece on top of your head. She decided to leave your hair unstyled, your natural curls were already making you look so beautiful.

Again you looked in the mirror, you looked ethereal. The headpiece was adding everything together. And Lysanna couldn’t agree more, standing by your side with her hands clasped together, she looked happy for you. You both were interrupted by the at knock at your door, revealing your sister. She was struck from your beauty, her face could show it.

Rhaenyra walked to you and Lysanna, kissing your cheeks softly, “Oh, my sweet sister. You look so magnificent.” Her eyes were becoming watery, “You look perfect,” she insisted, smoothing her palms on your cheeks, “Jacaerys will fall to his knees once he sees you.”

You choked on what to say. Instead, pulling her into a hug, gently to not hurt the baby. She chuckled, “I love you, sister.”

“And I love you too, sister.” you answered her, you were afraid of what she will say once she found out you and Jace were in a rocky relationship right now. But you didn’t want to think about that right now. Your mind was mainly focus on the wedding that was about to happen.

“It is time,” she said quietly, eyes meeting yours. She left your embrace to exchange some words with Lysanna, they both smiled warmly to each other until she left a kiss on Lysanna’s forehead.

Taking huge breaths of air, Lysanna and your sister walked you to the rocks by the shore, you heard waves crashing as you walked closer and closer to the rocks. Jace was already there with Luke, Rhaena, and Daemon present, Daemon helping him with his robes before walking over to help Rhaenyra go down the steps carefully.

You met Jacaerys in the middle of the ceremony, the same place that took place for Rhaenyra and Daemon’s wedding as well, the Septon was standing there with a dagger and chalices on the rock table for you both. The anxiety of having to cut each other’s arms and lips came to you, you began pinching your arm to ease your nerves. Jace noticed this and rubbed your arm to comfort you.

You turned to look at him, his eyes fell onto you. You couldn’t help but melt at the fact that he was possibly warming up to you, just a little. As you all listened to the words of the Septon, you mindlessly dozed off again until he handed Jace the dagger, you were rather scared. Scared to be cut and with full warning and intent as well, he tried calming you once more by pinching your lips to make the cut so you wouldn’t feel it as much. The cut was small but deep enough for blood to draw. You appreciated the fact he did this to help you, you felt tears swelling in your eyes as you made eye contact with him, nodding to him that you were fine— he looked stoic but you knew he was nervous, afraid those were tears of pain. He then brought his remaining hand to place his thumb to your lips, collecting the blood and tracing the liquid on your forehead. His eyes were watching for any sign of discomfort from you but you only nodded again and smiling to reassure him once him.

Once he had finished, he handed you the dagger, and you repeated what he had just did. If he was nervous, you were 10x nervous, shaking as you made the cut on his lip, you made sure it was a light scratch but still, worried as you cupped his face to apologize. As if he was still a child who was hurt during training but your imagination disappeared once he placed his hand on your hand— to let you know he’s fine. You ran your thumb over his lips, smearing the blood to make sure you grabbed enough. You drew a symbol on his forehead, once you finished, you sighed with relief that it was over. You felt good, the hard part was over.

The Septon then handed your lover the chalice. You took the dagger and began cutting at your left palm, wincing in pain from the deep cut you had made. You were never good with pain, realizing you had a low tolerance to pain compared to your family, always have been. With the pain lingering as you squeezed your hand over the chalice, you wanted to wince in pain, letting your blood drip into to the cup. Jace repeated what you did after handing your other hand the chalice for you to hold, he held no reaction once he cut into his right palm unlike you, you were almost envious that he didn’t feel no pain. You could hear Luke, in the background, hissing from the amount of blood that was being shed. You put the cup under his hand as he squeezed, your blood mixing with his in the chalice.

Began to drink from the chalice after speaking repeated vows from the Septon. The taste was bitter and very much like iron, you were not disgusted by it, it was rather natural considering you have the blood of the dragon. Dragons drink blood, afterall. Finishing your sip, you gave it to your lover. Though, you were rather okay with the taste, Jace wasn’t. His face screwed with bitterness and slightly squinted from the horrible taste, you wanted to giggle at his reaction but remained composed.

With blood coating his lips and tongue, he then brought his hand to cup your cheek once more before leaning in to kiss you. More confident than the last time, you leaned in as well. Your lips connecting and this time, you dipped your head back to kiss him once more, pressing your bloodied lips onto his soft ones— cupping both of his cheeks with your hands, staining his right cheek with blood from your cut.

Jace was rather confused from your sudden kiss, part of him wanted discontinue it for that he was still upset with you but this was something he had longed for years. The feeling of your lips was becoming addicting to him, his eyes immediately closing and savoring the taste of your lips. Forgetting that your family was behind you, he pulled you closer to him, his arms around your waist so protectively, he was scared to let you go. You both finally parted to breathe, panting heavily as you looked back into his now opened eyes, your lips were swollen from the long kiss and immediately created distance from him, afraid you crossed the line of boundaries.

As you were about to apologize, you heard claps being made by Rhaena and Luke. Realizing they were all there and watched the passionate kiss, you panicked and became even more embarrassed. You couldn’t really the say the same for Jace, instead of embarrassment— you swore you saw lust in his eyes, like he was about to kiss you again.

“Let’s wash your face and have you ready for supper!” Lysanna interrupted your intimate thoughts, as you wiped the smear blood on your looks, you were being scurried back into the castle while your eyes were trained on Jace, you neither spoken a word to him throughout the weddings or the trip back but you were able to speak so much through your actions.

Lysanna brought you to a whole other chamber, it was rather bigger and you were surprised. The bed was more bigger, seems to be the same size as Rhaenyra and Daemon’s— you knew it was your now shared chambers with Jace. It appears your handmaidens had already brought some of your collected art pieces and artifacts into the chambers to hung them up during your wedding. She brought out a wet cloth and started wiping your face very carefully in order to not hurt your wound.

“Was I okay?” you suddenly asked, blurting the question out without any context. You meant how you looked during your wedding.

Lysanna gave you a confused look to which you gave a pleading one in return. She unwrapped your robes and gently pressed her fingers on your palm, the one with the wound. Applying a bandage to wrap around your hand. “I am lost by what you mean.” Turning around to find an appropriate gown for you to wear.

Sighing, “I mean, did I present myself..” trying to find the perfect way to describe your question, “did I do alright?”

“Well, you certainly looked like you were in love,” She spoke, looking through your closet, still deciding for you to wear. Lysanna then let out a contented gasp, pulling out a white and golden gown that had sheer patterned sleeves and sheer designs on the skirt with the same patterns. “Were you faking it?”

Inserting your arms into the sleeves, you fiddled with the skirt while she laced the strings behind the gown. You were remembering what was happening in the wedding, leaving yourself feeling slightly panic and flustering from the sudden and passionate kiss you shared with Jace. His lusting eyes that were laying upon you wasn’t helping your case, it left you wanting to finish what you had started.

“No. I wasn’t.” shaking your head, looking at yourself in the mirror while she help put your half of your hair into double braids before connecting them across the back of your head and leaving the rest of your hair alone.

Lysanna smiled and nodded her head, leaning away to take a good look at you. “Good. It looked real.” Giving her a genuine smile from her response, it held no lie to it. She went over to your vanity and gave you jewelry to pick and wear. After you had finish adding earrings and a necklace, she held your hand to ease your nerves and lead you to the dining hall. She walked with reassurance and confidence, you were envious from the way she was able to look so proud but yet again she wasn’t the one who had just got married. She had no reason to be nervous or scared like you.

You entered the dining hall, lifting your skirt to step down carefully. Your family was already there, eating and conversing with one another. Rhaenyra looked up from her seat in the middle end of the table, gave you a smile. You sat by her side, Lysanna joining you all by sitting next to Rhaena and Luke, they begun laughing at silly jokes that Rhaena babbled.

“The ceremony was absolutely beautiful,” Rhaenyra praised, as Daemon handed you a cup of wine. You were hesitant to take it but still took a small sip. “It is good to be back in Dragonstone.” Quickly nodding at her statement, you felt more at home here. But yet, you missed your siblings dearly, remembering what you had saw with Helaena and Aemond.

“Your trip to Winterfell is on the morrow, is it?” Daemon asked, seemed to genuinely be interested to know more. He shown more fascination and interest in you and your life, it was a kind gesture and made you see him in a different light.

You were excited, none the less. You were finally visiting the north, you longed for this opportunity. Ever since Lysanna spoken stories of the cold land, you had wanted to see it for yourself. To feel snow, to make snow angels, to find direwolves, you were truly about to explode with excitement. “Yes! But I still have many things to pack. Lysanna, as well.”

“It’s alright. I had it all packed for you.” Jace suddenly spoke up, still eating his dinner as he paid no mind to you. You looked over to his side, appreciated at the fact he went out of his way to do that for you.

Warmly smiling to yourself, the fear of him hating you washed away. He cared for you, no matter what. “Thank you.”

“You looked like a goddess, cousin! I hope to look as beautiful as you in my own wedding.” Rhaena happily chirped, her eyes filled of hope while Daemon gave her a non-threatening stare from how she already declared wanting to be married.

You laughed at how eager she sounded, “That’ll be a long time, I assure you.” Daemon announced, Rhaenyra sighed from his response as Rhaena frowned. But you knew he meant well, he just doesn’t want to see her grow up so fast.

Finally finished your meal, you got up from your seat and walked towards Rhaena and placed a sweet kiss on her forehead before giving her and Luke a bear hug. “My sweetlings, so sweet to me. Be good to your parents.” they both were so young and already speaking of such topics. You just wanted to pocket them in your coat and take them everywhere with you. “May I visit Meraxes?” you asked Rhaenyra, whipping her head around as she gave you a quick nod, laughing with Daemon. The night was still young and you took the advantage to find your old dragon.

Placing one last kiss on Rhaena and Luke, you whispered to Lysanna to take them to bed soon. Leaving the hall to grab your cloak, you begun to walk out the castle with such hurry, looking across the island and ran in such pace to seek warmth and comfort from Meraxes. Upon your arrival, she turned her head to greet you, mewling loudly to declare how much she missed you, you knew your family had heard her. Holding onto her so tightly, hugging her by the side of her large head, she affectionately leaned in your touch. Compared her size to you, she barely leaned in just to not hurt you.

“Shijetra nyke, Merakses. Ēdan issare tolī nūmāzma naejot ao.” (“Forgive me, Meraxes. I have been to cruel to you.”) She seemed to understand you so easily from the way she wailed, huffing and puffing as you scratched underneath her mouth. The least you could do for her is let her rest for the remainder of her days, her entire life— all she ever knew was war and evil schemes that she was forced to be played in. You never thought about using her like that, she was too old for that now.

Perhaps that is why Meraxes picked you, maybe it wasn’t only because you had reminded her of the Queen Rhaenys, the way you would be silly around her, danced and played in the empty fields with her when you were younger reminded her of the old days with Rhaenys. Reading Aegon’s Conquest to Meraxes in High Valyrian so she would understand, she felt like she was in paradise and wanted to stay by your side until it was her time to rest for eternity. Never having to be at war again, having the opportunity to fly freely with you, relaxing in the deep lake with you was pure bliss.

If Meraxes could speak to you, she would thank you for rescuing her. For having the opportunity to live a peaceful life, living in where she was born, with other companions such as Caraxes, Syrax, Vermax and Arrax.

You placed your coat underneath you, instead of riding with her, you decided to rest with Meraxes instead. It would not be wise to sleep out here, you would worry your family but if you spent more time away from your dragon, you would’ve gone mad. “Hemtubis īlon kipagon syt Ropatasōnar. Ao se kesan ūndegon sōna syt se ēlī jēda.” (Tomorrow, you and I ride for Winterfell.) your words slowly becoming a whisper, dozing off to slumber— but your dragon’s low huff almost woke you up. Closing your eyes, your head resting near her clean, silver scales. Her large wing protectively resting above you, not strictly above to not suffocate you.

While you peacefully slept without a worry right by Meraxes’ side, your husband wasn’t so peaceful. He sat by the edge of your shared bed in your new shared chambers, wondering where you were. You weren’t in your old chambers either, the last time he heard you were with Meraxes. Getting up from his spot on the bed, wrapping his bare torso and arms with a night robe to look for you outside, letting the knights know he will be searching for you. Jacaerys was rushing down the steep hill, the rocks, and sand to find you— almost stepping in holes from time and time. He easily found Meraxes, she was the largest dragon afterall, she was easy to spot.

Jace wanted to feel angry, you never alerted anyone about how long you would take. He’s off looking for you around the island as always, but he couldn’t help the growing nervousness in his chest for your safety, worried you could be injured. No matter how much anger Jace holds over you, you still have him wrapped around your finger so tightly that no matter what you do, he would always find his way back to you. And the worst part is, you were unaware of this fact.

Once he reached Meraxes, she quietly mewled towards him, Jace patted Meraxes— she was sleeping so peacefully while you were laying right next to her, shivering in your sleep, arms curling tightly by your chest for some warmth, your cloak nor Meraxes could save you from the cold winds. You looked so peaceful and beautiful until he looked clearer. Your face was not only dried with tears, your teeth clattering together and your brows furrowed .

Without a thought, he quickly unwrapped his robes and wrapped it over you. For a brief moment, you were no longer shivering and began leaning into Jace’s warm embrace, he was known for being a literal walking furnace. He was wearing nothing now besides his breeches while you were layered comfortably but yet held around Jace’s arms, he couldn’t help but feel butterflies roaming inside his stomach from your touch. He decided to breathe into your palms from how cold they unusually are.

From the much movements around you and the sudden warmth, you began to wake up. Rubbing your eyes and mouth slurring, your eyes slowly widen from the view of Jace holding onto you protectively. At that sight of your husband, you were shocked to see him.

“What are you doing here?” you slurred your words, unintentionally, wiping the dried tears from your cheeks.

Jace tried to keep his eyes from looking back at you, “I was worried about my wife.” he stated simply. You grew quiet from his words.

You mumbled, “Oh..I apologize for worrying you, I must have woken you from your slumber,” your voice shaky. You were afraid you had made him mad even more but he shook his head.

He rubbing your forearms with a gentle touch. “I stayed up waiting for your return to our chambers. I had wondered if you went back to your old chambers.”

You looked at him for a moment, before more tears ran down your face, from the thought that he thinks you didn’t want to be with him, share chambers and share a bed hurt you. “Why would I abandon you,” you whispered, you were not asking, you knew the answer. He looked at you with guilt on his face, probably for even assuming you wouldn’t want to be near him during the night.

“It was foolish of you to be out here so late in the night.” he scolded, “you could have become sick just by staying out here for a bit.”

“I’m so sorry, Jacaerys,” you apologized, though, you weren’t apologizing about staying out here. He knew why you were apologizing, it felt all too real for the both of you. You were finally gonna speak your truth, speak your feelings. “I already failed you as a wife. Your future Queen. You hate me so much and it is my fault.” You had let out a sob, one that was a cry for help. All he could do was just listen to you belittle yourself as you continued to explain. “We were once close, do you remember? You always had your nightmares and crawled in my bed, excusing yourself as only wanting to protect me during the night.” Jace chuckled at the remembrance of the memories you both shared together. Remembering it like it was last night. “To see you hurt over something I had caused broke me deeply..of course I love you, I love you so much it hurts my heart to see you slip away from me. I don’t like to see you with another lady, and I don’t like to think about how you could have been betrothed to someone else who isn’t me. Your love and devotion for me is all I can ask for. But..please, you must understand why I was scared to marry, my mother was forced to squeeze out children until she died. Knowing that will be me someday, frightens me, worries me that I may not give you an heir.”

As you finished, Jacaerys laid there— with so many thoughts running through his mind. You love him, and yet he never thought about how it was like for you, his sadness breaks you down to the point you’re a wreck because you love him. He noticed, he noticed how much quieter you become during and after the betrothal, and how you barely even made the effort to wish farewells to your family as you went on the boat.

Realizing now, imagining you dying in childbirth frightened Jacaerys so much to the point his hold on you tightened. To lose you, especially to childbed, it put the poor boy in shock.

Jace pulled you closer to him, both of you becoming sweating from how hot under the robes and cloak were, “You’re not my nephew anymore, you are my husband. And I need to start seeing you as my husband.” Suddenly he looked down from the touches you placed on his left hand, he watched you took off the ring your father, his grandsire had left to you. The ring he had worn as a wedding ring with his wife, your mother— the rings that represented their love for one another. You placed the ring delicately onto his ring finger, twisting it around occasionally. It now belonged to him.

“I love you, Jacaerys,” you sobbed, rushing to press your hands on his bare chest. You were an emotional wreck. But yet, he didn’t know what to say. “Please speak to me.” Gods, your voice was breaking his heart. Why can’t he speak? He loves you so much. He would do anything for you. He would go as far as to kill for you.

Placing his forehead against yours, finally gaining the courage to speak, “You and I were meant to burn together.”

Without hesitation, he roughly grabbed you by your silvery hair and placed a rough kiss onto your lips, you quickly returned the kiss with such eagerness. The kiss almost knocked the winds out of you, you weren’t expecting Jace to be so rough but you didn’t care. Pulling away to catch your breath for a quick moment before reaching once again to his lips, your tears continued to fall from your eyes, mixing into your lips— making the kiss become wet.

His hands falling to grip your waist, laying on top of you as he moved once again behind to unlace your gown, in such swiftness, your gown was slowly coming off and you immediately shivered from the strong winds. Jace broke the kiss to set your dress aside but once he placed it next to you both, his eyes laid upon your bare body— you had changed tremendously over the years, you were now a lady and Jace could see that quite clearly from the way your breasts were much more fuller and the sides of your body were now curvier.

From his wandering eyes, you were becoming embarrassed. Was he disgusted by you? Were his expectations ruined? You felt like curling up into a ball and hide away.

Reaching to cover yourself with your arm, feeling even more embarrassed that you had to hide your breasts away. Before you could even react, his hands placed your arms above your head, Jace’s lips came down onto yours again, this time more sweeter than the first one. You brought your hands down to bury them in his hair, as you moved your lips against his.

His tongue swiped across your lips, wanting to deepen the kiss. You opened your mouth with slight hesitation, but it soon disappeared and replaced with lust— moaning at the newfound feeling of his tongue. Jacaerys moved away to place sweet kisses all over your neck, pulling you into him more harshly, hips smashing into each other. Without your gown on, you could feel everything, his body heat, and every part of his body. You were whimpering in seconds from how he began to place lovebites on your shoulder and collarbone.

His hands moved up your body, going up and down on your hips before resting his palms on your breasts, gently massaging the soft, ample mounds. When he lightly pinched the sensitive buds, you let out a moan, pulling on his hair as he continued to graze your nipples. Jace groaned, taking it as permission, he dipped his head into your chest before he began to suck harshly, even began nipping your buds to earn more sounds from you. To think this was his first experience with you, you would have thought he was skilled at this. But no, neither of you had touched someone like this before, and it felt good. The relief washing over you when you would be losing your virtue to Jacaerys and not someone like Aegon or an old High Lord who wouldn’t even thought once about your pleasures and desires.

Both his hands continued to pinch at your skin, while you started whimpering. Traveling up to your neck, biting and sucking at the sensitive skin. You were withering away into ecstasy as he continued. His hands drifted from your chest, down your waist, slowly as you could feel his hands on your thighs, he retrieved away from your neck, admiring the work he done with the lovebites scattering all over your neck, collarbone, shoulders, and your breasts.

“Jace…” you whined. Clearly frowning from the loss of heat that his body provided for you while he was exploring your body.

The way you were already missing his touch was starting to get Jace feeling worked up, your pity eyes and your pouty lips was just the icing on top of the cake. He wanted to have his way with you right then and there, pleasuring the both of you so eagerly but he knew he would have to be patient. Your pleasure absolutely comes first. Though, he was glad you both were far away from the castle, your family wouldn’t have to hear you both.

“W-What are you doing?” You asked, confused but still remained to lay on your cloak. Shifting uncomfortably, wondering if it was over already, if it was only just in the heat of the moment. Your thoughts were cut short when Jacaerys spread your thighs apart, groaning at the sight that was laid in front of him and the feeling of the fat of your thighs in his hands. Letting out a shocked gasp from the cool air blowing into your cunt.

Jace looked up to you, not exchanging any words but the look on his face was asking for your permission to continue. You nodded, allowing him to dive his head between your legs. He gave your cunt a wet kiss before bringing his fingers to slip through your folds, groaning at how wet you are, you subconsciously brought your hand to grip the wrist to his wandering hand, that was smearing your wetness all over your cunt.

He gave you a light smile from how easily wet you were. Wanting to tease you some more, “All for me, my love?” you were feeling rather more embarrassed than you ever were with Jace. You couldn’t muster anything to say back, as an result Jace lightly smacked your cunt— loudly yelping at the impact, it frightened Meraxes who was still besides you both. You had started realizing where you both were, right by the ocean and way too close to your dragon, who seemed to be very annoyed by the loud and erotic noises you both were making.

“C-Could we take our affairs into our- ah! Jacaerys!” you cried out, as you were trying to suggest going back inside, he continued to spread your lips with his tongue, lapping your juices from your dripping hole. He began moving his tongue in and out of you with his fingers patiently moving towards your clit to rub it slowly before it started to fasten. You propped yourself onto your side, wanting more.

The lewd squelching noises had only made you feel warmer and turned on. You gave out and fell on your back once more, babbling with soft whimpers— you could not control your voice, expressing how much it feels good. With his tongue still inside you, it made your skin burn, had your toes curling on his back as your thighs wrapped around his head, your hands gently yanked at his hair to pull him away from your cunt, it was beginning to become too much for you, sending vibrations through your body. “J-Jace..too much..”

While trying to escape his grasp, his hands removed themselves from your nub and moved to your sides— holding your hips down, allowing him to gain control again, rather than letting you move away from his face. Whimpering from the tight hold Jace has on your hips, he decided to pull you more closer to him, deepening his tongue inside your cunt. With his fingers again, he rubbed tight circles on your clit, it brought you a different kind of pleasure, the feeling of your stomach turning, like something snapped.

He hummed against your cunt, acknowledging that you were close, deciding to replace his mouth and to slowly add two fingers inside. Thrusting them in and out of you, careful not to hurt you but that thought quickly disappeared after he heard you babble the loudest moans you ever let out tonight, “Please..don’t stop, ñuha vēzos.” you whimpered out. To hear that nickname come out of your mouth after so long made his cock hard, fastening his pace before adding another then another. The cold feeling of the ring that was still placed on his finger, thrusting inside you had you falling apart. It was a newfound feeling that you seemed to already become addicted to, adding more to your pleasuring.

With his face pulled away from you, lips dripping with your juices, but his fingers never stopped, the pleasure continuing, “It’s alright. Let go, ñuha hūra qēlossās,” he urged, as he dove back to kiss you messily, aggressive like the first kiss you had shared with him, driving his tongue into your mouth, he happily swallowed your moans and whimpers that you were letting out, his thumb ferociously rubbed your clit to help you cum quicker, it felt so good.

You listened to his words. You tried to let go, allowing yourself to relax and enjoy the pleasure he was giving you. It was soon that you felt that same feeling that was building in your stomach, it felt like a tight knot snapping. You pulled harder at Jace’s hair, in silence, pulling your mouth was away from his, a thin string of saliva connecting. You saw white stars in your vision, desperately trying to come down from your high. Your vision and hearing were lacking, giving Jace a small huff when he tried to call your name, you could barely hear him.

He pulled his fingers out of you, your hole was left clenching nothing as it leaked out all of your juices. Slowly regaining your vision, you gave Jace a hazy smile, and reached up to pull him closer to you. Letting out a mewl at the way he cupped your breasts, firmly, smothering them in sweet kisses.

With his hands on your breasts, you wrapped your legs around him again, finding familiar pleasure in the friction of rubbing yourself against him through his breeches. Jace let out a relaxed sigh from the endless grinding. He looked up to see you, you were too deep in pleasure to notice him pulling himself away, and lowering his breeches. His cock sprung up, he re-adjusted himself on top of you. He was rather bigger than you imagined. Deep in your thoughts, you didn’t notice how he moved his tip down your slit to collect your wetness, mixing it with his pre-cum to make his cock even more wet.

You tried to fix yourself as you can while still drowsy from your previous orgasm, bringing your hand to hold him, carefully. Your hand was gentle, not wanting to squeeze him hard— you wrapped it around his length, and his eyes were closed as he hissed at your touch, his stomach was tensing up.

“Gods,” he strangled, you looked up to him and his face contorted in pleasure. You moved your hand and replaced it with your tongue, placing his whole length in your mouth, you began to gag on his cock but you wanted to bring some pleasure to him, like the good wife you are. Continuing to move your head slowly, you were getting the hang of sucking him off. The surprising act had Jace shocked, to see you trying to please him so eagerly.

The thought of just letting you suck him off until he released in your mouth made him feel excited, but that wasn’t what he planned. As much as he didn’t want to, he gently pull your mouth off him. He wanted to be inside you. Retrieving yourself away, frowning as you wiped your mouth, to your disappointment, Jace gave you a smile and placed a wet kiss on your neck, “Forgive me, my love but I want to feel your cunt.” you clenched at his words, nodding and allowing him to tuck your curls behind your ear, guiding you to lay back down on your cloak.

He wrapped his own hand around his cock, now wet enough to line himself at your entrance. Placing your arms around your husband’s shoulders, making him come closer to you in the hopes of having some sort of reassurance, as you laid craving his cock. Jace slowly pushed himself inside you, working his cock into your cunt. The stretch was rather more bigger than with his fingers, whining as your nails dig into his back— your legs wrapped around his hips, tightly. The feeling was uncomfortable, you couldn’t breathe properly nor move. He continued sliding inside you, settling himself comfortably until he had your approval to start moving again.

Jace leaned into your neck, breathing in your scent and groaning at the feeling of finally being inside you. How he waited for years to wed you. He stayed quite snugged in you, eventually, bringing his head up to meet your eyes. He could see the hold of discomfort in them, to relief the mild aching—he brought his fingers down to your clit again, rubbing circles, recklessly, in hopes to help you find pleasure. As his fingers remained on your nub, your body had began to relax and erupt in pleasure once more. You closed your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth to bring more. You moaned at the feeling of Jace bringing himself in and out of you. Slowly thrusting back into you, never taking his hand away from your clit, instead he started to rub your nub even faster, making you feel more heat.

As he continued to slide in and out of you at a cautious pace, you were begging for more. Babbling at your husband to go faster, he complied without a word. Bringing your legs over his shoulders, you both could hear your skin clapping together. His pace was rather brutal and hard, but oh gods, it felt so good. Your head fell back, mouth left open as Jace continued his harsh thrusts. Blood dripping from his back, the feeling of your nails digging deeper into his skin almost made Jace collapse from how good it felt. Wanting to quiet his groans, he began to nip at your neck, you were clenching tightly around him, “Don’t stop! Please! Please! Ah!”

His pace quickening as you bounced against him, lost in the pleasure. Your mouth laid open, your moans beginning to become too loud. Jace swore the knights that were on nightwatch could have heard you. Removing his fingers from your clit, Jace stuck his fingers in your mouth to hush you, immediately you began to suck on them so desperately as your eyes rolled back so far.

The tight knot in your stomach came back, falling over from the feeling again. Crying out for Jace with his fingers still in your mouth once his thrusts slowed down. You took his fingers out of your mouth, afraid you would bite them by accident. Not sure on where to place them, he decided to wrap his hand around your neck and began to squeeze. The feeling was unfamiliar but it felt amazing, you felt yourself liking the newfound feeling as you were beginning to feel dizzy during your high, about to pass out from the way he was constricting your breath as he continued fucking you.

Your high ending, becoming very sensitive to the continuing movement inside you. “Please..inside me..” you choked, wanting to feel his cum inside you. You felt his thrusts stuttering, more messier. Jace wanted to pull out, spill himself on your breasts but hearing your words, he complied. Without saying anything back, he thrusted one last time, deeper this time. Spilling his cum inside, not wasting a drop while thrusting all of it inside your leaking cunt. You both moaned in unison at the feeling, taking his hand off your now bruised neck, replacing it with his face to rest on your neck, kissing it gently as he continued to spill inside you. Oh, it felt so good, the feeling of his warmth filling you. With strong arms around you, carefully Jace pulled out of you, both of you hissing at the loss feeling and you whined, clenching around nothing, wanting him to stay inside you forever.

Jacaerys pulled away, finding his breeches and bringing it to your thighs to clean you up right away. Wiping away the cum and saliva that was dripping down your stomach and thighs. You looked up at him confused, and upset he was using his only clothing. “My love, what will you wear now?” Rushing to stop his actions with your hand, Jace shook his head and only continued until you were clean. Slightly wincing from the sensitivity down there.

“Let me attend to you.” he ordered, he was not asking. Without wanting to start a disagreement, you nodded. He had you turned to the side to wipe away any sand that sticked to your body and placed you gently back down on your cloak. “I’m sorry, I was too harsh with you.”

You melted further into the cloak, eyes growing tired, his sweet words made you shake your head and only smile sweetly. “It is fine. I don’t mind, it was me who was too harsh with you, my love.” Bringing his hand to cup your cheek, he felt himself growing guilty from your words. He didn’t want your first time to be something that you felt you had to be punished for. He would never be that cruel to you, he wasn’t someone like Aegon. He was your devoted husband, who would go to great lengths to protect you. The sweat across your body and face, the tired look on your face, the bruises and marks on your body. This was not what Jacaerys wanted for you, but you were just happy to finally have his forgiveness, you tried to reassure him that you wanted it just as much as he wanted it. Happily humming once he placed his robes around you, slipping underneath the robes, taking you in his arms once again. You laid your head on his bare chest, finding warmth and comfort.

He was smoothing your hair out, tangling his fingers. Your braids had became messy and unkept but it didn’t matter to Jace. “My sweet wife..” he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead. The guilt never went away, not once, remaining in his mind as he tried to sleep. “I am fine, my love.” you urged, trying to make sure he knows you are well while you were still awake. He gave you a sweet smile, to help you believe he is not worried anymore. As he began to hear the soft snores coming from you, all Jace could think about how unfair he was to you. He let his anger get the best of him, remaining bitter and sour to you when you tried to apologize once. As you tried to win his affections back, letting you wither in sadness. You were never cruel to him.

It was never that big of a deal, he thought. for you to feel the need to always be there for your step-mother. Of course it wasn’t, you were just trying to make everyone happy. Was he only mad because he was just envious? Envious that he and his family weren’t the only ones you held such strong familiar feelings for? No matter what the outcome was, whether your family bullied his mother, or accused them of being bastards, or even taking your freedom from almost everything that you felt you had to leave— you would always be tied to Alicent and your other siblings because of your connection to them.

All his life, Jacaerys tried to catch all of your attention. Wanting to be the one who caught your eye, never finding it fair that you mainly laid your eyes on your other family. Always comforting Aemond, reading with Helaena, chasing Aegon around incase he made a fool of himself, or when you were busy with writing letters back to Daeron.

Jace thought once you were married to him, you would finally realize you only needed him in your life. You didn’t need Alicent, or your brothers and sister. If you had ask him to take you away and settled down in Essos or Pentos, he would’ve gladly packed a bag and ride off with you on Vermax while knowing the risks that came with it.

You were enough for him. So why wasn’t he enough for you?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Atleast they made up😍 kinda- but omg I’m never writing smut again that was tiring and scary (I’m lying..) HOLY SHIT THAT WAS SO LONG LMFAO

taglist (woohoo!): @sigynxlokiwifelover @l-3-e @audigay @urmomsgirlfriend1 @cold-v0dka @cookielovesbook-akie @theoriginalwife000 @xoxovenusquinn(would not let me tag u:( @ghalakgx (would not let me tag:( @neenieweenie @classysassynabitsmartassy @generousbearwolflight @gariben @si1versamurai @deltamoon666 @aemondssiut (would not let me tag u:( @thelastemzy @ryantryan6969 @topazy @starogeorgina @infinitleyethereal @speedypeter @dramaroomrat @potatolady189 (would not let me tag u:( @zzz000eee @parkchaeyoung1997 @jaehyunyah

[sunnyie-eve]

1. The Challenge

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Series: Devious Opportunity

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: playful flirting between cousin (duh Targaryen incest) and Alicent pushing views on Aegon

| MASTERLIST |

-

Since Celeste could remember things, she had always been raised in Kings Landing castle. She knew who her father was yet they weren't very close. She was his first child, who happened to be a bastard, with a past love affair.

Viserys knew his brother cared deep down for his daughter by letting her live with him. Daemon knew she was better off there than with him. He would visit her there and write letters to her but even when he married Laena, he never had her come live with them. Plus Rhaenyra cared for her since there was something she thought was just so special about her.

Maybe it had something to do with her knowing Celeste's mother since she was always kind to her. Or maybe because she their mothers both died the same way. Or because she saw some handmaids didn't care to take care of her for some odd reason as she was growing up.

At the moment, Celeste was running through the halls to get to Princess Rhaenyra's room to see the new baby. As she busts through the doors out of breath Rhaenyra and Harwin laugh at her.

"I hear it was another boy." She says out of breath, "Let me see, let me see." She gets on her tip-toes trying to get a better look at him as Harwin was holding him. Rhaenyra nods her head so he gives her to Celeste to hold.

Even though Celeste the and boys were cousins, they acted like siblings more towards each other. Probably because Rhaenyra acted like a mother towards her since she doesn't have much memory of her own mother.

"Between us, I hope he gets his father's looks." She smiles at the baby before passing him back to Harwin. "I'll leave you three alone." She heads for the door, "But I'll be back to give him more love later." She adds leaving with a smile.

As she was walking around the yard, Aegon joins her, "You should have seen the joke we did on Aemond." He laughs so she looks at him.

"Are you to tell me more or not?" She asks him.

"Oh, since he doesn't have a dragon, we gave him a pig with wings. The Pink Dread." He laughs more while she didn't find it funny.

"Why must you boys make fun of him for not having one like the rest of us? You don't have to make it harder on him." She looks at the weapons since she had always fancied them oddly. Especially ones that were made well and looked nice.

"It was Jace and Luke's idea." He tells her so she gives him a look, "It was my idea." He rolls his eyes, "You know, I don't care for how well you know me."

Celeste chuckles as she starts to walk away with him following her, "I'm the only person who ever really pays attention to you. I know you more than your siblings, parents, and maids know you."

"Ah yes, and I appreciate you for that." He playful tugs on her hair causing her to turn to face him with a glare in her face. "I had to get you to face me somehow."

"You couldn't ask me to stop and turn around?"

"As we both know, you know me so I'll say no." He smiles, "No, but I do truly appreciate that you pay attention to me. We both know no one else does unless I step out of line. How else would I get my mother to pay attention to me." He laughs but deep down it hurt him.

"I don't just pay attention to you, Aegon. I care about you as well. We're the closest. Somehow we are which blows my mind to this day since you're a pain in my ass."

He can't help but laugh, "That's one of my titles, of course, just for you to use." He bows a bit, "My lady."

"There's never a dull moment when you're around." She shakes her head at him, "I'm off to go love on my new brother." She leaves him.

"Cousin!" He corrects her.

"Basically my brother!" She shouts back starting to jog back towards Rhaenyra's chambers.

Later in the day, Celeste was bored and just wanted to talk to someone so she headed towards Aegon's chambers. They often had long chats to pass the time along when they were both bored. They never minded when one would wonder into the other's room since they have been doing such a thing since they could remember.

Before walking in the door was slightly opened and she could hear the Queen was in the room, "If Rhaenyra comes into power your very life could be forfeit. Aemond's as well. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession."

"Then I won't challenge-," Aegon starts but is cut off.

"You are the challenge! You are the challenge, Aegon! Simply by living and breathing! You are the King's firstborn son and what they know, what everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones... is one day, you will be our King." Alicent shouts at him making Celeste's eyes widen.

As she hears her coming towards the room she moves away from the door far enough to act like she was walking that way, "Queen Alicent." She smiles as they came face to face.

"Celeste." She sighs, "Have you heard about the prank that was pulled on Aemond?" She stops her.

"Aegon told me about earlier. I told him they needed to leave him alone and stop making fun of his brother. He said it was the other's idea but I knew he was lying so he admitted to it." She lets her know before she continues her way. 

When she entered Aegon's room he was still sitting in bed like his mother left him thinking about everything, "You know Rhaenyra would never do anything to you or Aemond, right?" She tells him, "Yes, she's not close to either of you but she would never kill either of you for the throne."

He looks over at her, "You heard everything..."

"You know I like to listen to others when I'm not supposed to." She slightly smiles, "How about I step out for a minute so you can get dressed then we can talk?" She leaves him room and when he was dressed he tells her he's done.

"Why does my own mother not listen to me?" He asks looking over at Celeste sitting at the end of his bed. "I have no want for the throne. Now or when I'm older."

"Then stand your ground even when she pushes you." She tells him, "Yes, everyone in the realm prefers a man to takeover but honestly you and I know you are not the best fit to do such a thing." 

"I know and I know my own mother believes that as well deep down but for some reason she wants me to still be a King." He huffs pacing around, "Why can't I be on my own?"

"Because people don't want things to change." She tells the truth.

"What about what I want?" He stops to face her so she gets up to hug him and he holds her tightly.

[caratheewriter]

"I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you" - Aegon Targaryen II x Cousin! reader

Synopsis: After the events of the disagreement of Driftmark's succession, such as the "unfortunate" death of Vaemond Valeryon, the family indulges in a nice dinner where you give your cousin an offer he shouldn't refuse.

Rating: PG-13

Warning(s): attempted manipulation (my girl almost had him fr).

Word Count: 809

You are seated at your father's left side, patiently waiting. You and your father, Daemon, glance at each other. He looks at you in discontent and you give him a look, he knows you won't let up.

King Viserys stands, well more like leans on the table, and speaks, "How good it is... to see you all tonight... together."

"Prayer before we begin?"

"Yes."

The Queen Alicent begins to pray, "May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long."

You rolled your eyes. What does she thinks she's doing?

"And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest."

You snicker at the last remark, may the gods give him hell. Vaemond was out of his mind.

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

You smile, proud of your sisters and how they've grown. "Hear, hear!"

Aegon leans over to whisper to Jace, "Well done, Jace. You'll finally get to lie with a woman."

Baela takes a drink and looks at him in annoyance. She then turns to look at you. You make eye contact. Do not worry, dear sister. He'll get his due.

You take a look at your cousin. How pathetic? Your women will chew him up and spit him out. Not before you have your turn, of course.

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

"Hear, hear."

Aegon leans over to Jace, once again.

"You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that."

"Let it be, cousin."

"You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed."

Aegon hums in fake agreeance. You zone out halfway, coming back seeing Jace take Helaena to dance. You see your father nod in your peripheral. You move to Jace's seat and lean to whisper in Aegon's ear.

"Dearest cousin, I heard of the little situation with a servant girl this morning."

Aegon looks at you. Why the hell are you talking to him?

"What of it, cousin."

"I- It must feel so restricting. Not being able to do what you truly want, having to marry someone you feel no love for."

"Well, I don't see a man at your side, cousin. Did you scare them off."

"Quite the contrary, Aegon. Unlike all these other ladies of the court, I don't need a man at my side to have power. I'm free to bed whoever I want, whenever I want."

Aegon grits his teeth at your clear mocking, "How lucky you are, Y/n."

You smirk internally. Hook, Line, and Sinker. "I could help you, of course. The women of Dorne love men like you, cousin. Princely, Silver-haired, Targaryen. Personally, I like my men: pathetic... and good for one thing."

You lean closer. Your lips grazing his ear, "I could take you away from here. To Dorne. You'd be away from all of this. Away from your mother, who seems to only care about image. You'd be free, Aegon."

He looks at you, his eyes growing desperate. He's actually considering it.

Just then, a servant sets a roasted pig down. Lucerys chuckles. Aemond hits the table, anger evident. He stands, goblet in hand.

"Final tribute. To the health of my nephews: Jace... Luke... and Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise... hm.... strong."

"Aemond."

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

Jace gets in Aemond's face, "I dare you say that again."

"Why? Was only a compliment. Do you not think yourself Strong?"

Jace punches Aemond as Luke gets up and Aegon slams his head on the table. You look the boys in disgust. One normal night. Just one, please?

"Why would you say such a thing before these people?"

"I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother. Mm, though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs."

Rhaenyra turns to Jace, Luke, and your sisters, "Go to your quarters. All of you go, now."

Your father looks at you expectantly. You whisper in Aegon's ear one last time, "Seems as though you are happy here, cousin. Being a nuisance. Forever at the beck and call of your mother and grandsire."

You leave him, walking over to your father and Rhaenyra, "Goodnight, Father, Rhaenyra." You retreat to your chambers.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As Aegon stands in front of the people, having been crowned King, he thinks back to your words. The offer sounding so convincing. If only he hadn't acted out, then maybe the sound of your voice and your sweet words wouldn't haunt him.

fin.

Oh. My. God. I don't know if I love or hate this because I straight pulled this out of my ass.

Also for further context, you are Daemon's oldest daughter. Your mother is one of the eldest children of Qoren Martell and the reason why you aren't married is because you really don't need a husband. Your mother has a twin brother and so you will rule alongside your cousin as it is not known which one of them came first.

[lauraneedstochill]

I won’t fall for someone who can’t misbehave

summary: Aemond is betrothed to the sweetest girl in the Seven Kingdoms. She is smiley, soft and kind-hearted. Until she isn’t. (or, alternatively: “No one took your side when you were a kid. But I’m doing it now.”) pairing: Aemond Targaryen and F!Reader (her House is not specified) words: 9000 +

warnings: slow (!) burn, attempted harassment, Aemond is in pain 70% of the time (headache and all that) and has no clue how to act around someone he’s in love with. author's note: I’m working on 3 fics at the moment, and it’s taking forever to finish (yay for my poor time management skills!), so I whipped up something short(er). Rhaenyra is the queen here but I barely mention the blacks (not out of spite, I just thought it wouldn’t add anything to the story). also, I don’t think women would be allowed to misbehave like that... I don’t care ;)

Aemond knew of the preplanned betrothal even though everyone around him was ridiculously mysterious about the subject matter. He’s been made aware of the upcoming visit of some noble family, and the preparations were quite extensive. Then he overheard Baela telling Jace that the expected guests will bring their daughter. The middle one. It wasn’t very hard for Aemond to put two and two together. His wedding was long overdue, and Alicent was eager for him to make his choice. But he dreaded the mere thought of it.

Aemond’s never been very good at courting women, but mostly due to the lack of trying. He’s used to them looking at him with fear and suspicion as if he’s some kind of wild animal ready to attack at any minute. Getting sidelong glances did hurt him growing up, but with time Aemond learned to benefit from it, using his fearsome image as a shield. No one ever dared to try and break it to see what was underneath. But now he is faced with the inevitable change that’s approaching his life at the speed of a storm wave. To him, taking off the eyepatch won’t be nearly as excruciating as giving into the vulnerability of letting someone in, opening up to someone. He’s never been afraid of much but that? That was terrifying.

The anticipation made Aemond nervous. He knew he should probably ask around and try to gain any information about his soon-to-be wife, but it felt wrong. Not knowing felt even worse. No matter how good of a fighter he was, fighting the uncertainty seemed like a challenge. Aemond spent his nights tossing and turning, wrapped up in blankets as insomnia was clinging to his body. He tried to busy himself with training, but his usual easy victories brought him no satisfaction. He’s been winning for so long maybe it was time for him to lose. Except not to his training partners but to a stranger, who in time will get a permanent place in his life.

His rides with Vhagar, which usually brought him peace, now had the opposite effect. The old dragon acted annoyed and disgruntled for no reason, huffing and grumbling at every turn as if she could sense his own frustration. You can’t tame your emotions yet I’m supposed to listen to your commands? Silly boy. If Vhagar could speak, she would probably tell him that, Aemond thought. And he blamed himself even more.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, the headache came back. As usual, it started with a feeling of pounding heaviness in the back of his head, which then spread further: into his temples, forehead and down the hateful scar. Within a couple of days, the pain gets so bad, he has to grit his teeth to keep a straight face, and he's barely able to shove a few bits of food down his throat. But it’s a topic he never brings up, it’s a humiliating secret that’s just between him and his mother. When he lost his eye, for the first month the pain was close to unbearable. The maester kept telling him that it was caused by the healing of skin tissues and assured that the intolerable feeling would go away. It never did. His scar was something he learned to cover up, and the bright red stripe faded slightly with time, but the pain lingered. Aemond opted to think that it only contributed to him becoming more resilient, yet that argument didn’t withstand the test of time. The pain receded for some short periods, but then it would always come back, and he could never get used to that, no matter how hard he tried.

He can only hope it will get better by the time the guests arrive. But the gods seem deaf to his prayers, and the night before the event he doesn’t get a wink of sleep. He goes through his day in a daze, skipping the training session to hide in the library instead, although he can’t bring himself to focus and read more than a single page. When the time comes for him to walk into the dining hall, it’s the last thing he wants to do but he forces himself to go. Festive ornaments, tables laden with the finest dishes, bright-colored clothing of everyone around him blend and blur into each other. He takes deep breaths and counts his steps, gathering all his strength to sit down and not wince at the movement.

All it takes is one look at him for Alicent to understand what’s going on.

“Aemond,” she approaches him, whispering. “What’s wrong? Is it the headache again?”

Aemond doesn’t want to admit it, but he lacks the energy to deny it either so he just nods. She gives him a regretful look, gently squeezing his shoulder.

“Should I call for the maester? Maybe he will be able to come up with something to ease the pain.”

“I don’t think we have time to fuss over me,” he declines with a pain-stained voice. “I was under the impression that we’re expecting someone to join us today.”

Alicent sighs. She knows better than to fight his stubbornness, but she hates how helpless it makes her feel. Aemond hates that feeling, too.

“Please don’t tell me you require motivation,” Aegon’s voice is loud as it is but right now it sounds deafening, and Aemond sharply exhales. His brother flops on a nearby chair, bringing his ignorant attitude with him.

“Undoubtedly you’ve interacted with women before,” he chuckles, completely unaware of Aemond’s suffering. “Try not to scare her with your creepy stare, and maybe she won’t run away.”

Alicent briefly closes her eyes in annoyance. She glances around, making sure not to attract any attention, and then grabs Aegon by the chin, forcing him to look at her.

“Enough with pestering, I need you to behave yourself,” her voice is tinged with irritation. “Just for one evening. Can you do that?”

Aegon’s body stiffens up, the smug look disappearing from his face.

“As you wish, mother,” he mutters, and she lets go of him. Alicent shoots another glance at Aemond before leaving. Aegon gives his brother a side-eye but says nothing.

Aemond is exhausted, anxiety bubbling in his chest, and he thinks he has a few more minutes to compose himself yet that time passes in the blink of an eye. Before he knows it, the guards at the door make the announcement, and he sees a group of unfamiliar faces. None of them are of his age, though, and for a moment that realization brings him some comfort. But then he notices a female figure in the distance as she’s approaching the entrance.

When she walks in, the music goes quiet, and Aemond hears people gasping. It seems like every man in the room has his gaze on her. And she certainly is a sight for sore eyes. She moves with a gracious pace, the silky fabric of her dress flowing downward with every step. It’s not too revealing, but it hugs her body in all the right places. Her hair is up, and he can see the waves of her collarbones peaking through. A half-smile is plastered on her face, but she doesn’t seem to be nervous. If he was to take a guess, he would've said she was tired. But she won’t let it show, keeping her head high and being seemingly unaware of the attention she got. Maybe she’s used to it just like he is, Aemond thinks. Although people usually glare at him for a completely different reason.

“Someone is about to get a piece of cake,” Aegon elbows him lightly, his voice low.

“Someone needs to shut up,” Aemond snarls, earning a laugh from his brother. That catches her attention, and her gaze lands on Aemond. When their eyes meet, her face softens, smile growing wider. He tries his best to force a wan smile in return, but his stomach turns in discomfort. He can already imagine how people will react: a stunning woman like her with a man like him, what a tragedy. That thought stings, his anxiety growing stronger. The headache gets worse, and he tightens his grip on a cup of wine that he hasn’t even tasted yet. Aemond can’t help but wonder if she knew she would have to marry him. If it does bother her as much as it bothers him.

The members of her family are greeted as guests, with no mention of a possible betrothal. Her name is the only one he catches — and then silently repeats it a few times. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, the sound of it breaking through his clouded mind. She’s seated next to him, as expected, and he notes that her dress compliments her eye color. Aemond is thinking of a way to start a conversation, but she beats him to it:

“You gave us such a warm welcome, but I must admit, I am surprised by the scale of it. I hope it wasn’t too much of an inconvenience?”

When her words reach his ears, the buzzing in his head stops, and Aemond turns to her, astonished by his own reaction. It’s not the naivety of her question, nor the friendly tone of it. It’s just her voice. Melodic and mellow, it feels soothing among the loud noises they’re surrounded with.

“I assure you, your family was simply welcomed with the respect you deserve,” he answers pensively. His throat is sore, but he can’t steel himself to take a sip of wine, afraid that it will make him sick. He wants her to speak again.

Aemond asks about her family, letting her lead the conversation. She is easy to talk to and she gives just the right amount of information before jumping to another topic. At any other time, he would’ve really enjoyed the flow of it, yet now he is growing weary. The headache is still there, but her voice does bring him some relief. That is until she abruptly stops.

“Are you feeling alright?” she sounds worried, and the same emotion is written on her face. Aemond tries to blink away his exhaustion. 

“I apologize if I’m not exactly the best at keeping you company. It’s been a long day,” he knows he should’ve come up with a better excuse. He feels like he can hardly function at this point.

She keeps her attention on him for a few more seconds. Then she moves her eyes to the other end of the table, where her family is seated. She makes eye contact with her father and gives him a big yawn. It’s obviously and comically fake but it works: her family finds an excuse to leave earlier. Aemond knows that now he also got a chance to escape soon after. He feels a pang of guilt knowing that he’s the reason their conversation was cut short, but she doesn’t make a big deal out of it.

“We shall continue on the morrow when we are both well rested,” she smiles reassuringly at him before leaving.

Aemond seriously doubts that he’ll get any rest as his head feels like it’s gripped in an iron vise again. The next morning he drags himself out of bed later than usual, the pain now dull but present nonetheless. He sits with his face in his hands, breathing in and out, until he’s almost numb. The almost leaves a sour feeling in his mouth — or maybe it’s the nausea, he doesn’t know nor does he care. He’s been handling this for years, he can survive another day.

Aemond decides that since he is to be wed, he should make an effort for it to work. He thinks about his duty, his mother, about Y/N, who traveled all the way to King’s Landing for a man she’s never met before. Aemond thinks of everyone but himself because there’s only so much he can do without draining himself completely.

He missed the breakfast already but hopes to find Y/N within the perimeter of the castle and rushes out of the bedroom. He’s passing by Helaena’s chambers when he hears someone laughing. And it’s not his sister. Aemond debates if he can deal with kids right now, but chooses to give it a chance and quietly walks in. Helaena has embroidery in her hands but seems more focused on a sight in front of her, and he follows her gaze. Y/N is sitting on the floor with her back to the door, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are on either side of her, their cheeks plump and pink, tiny fingers grabbing her dress. She’s reading to them, and it’s a tale they’ve heard many times before, yet the kids are listening attentively, occasionally making noises of excitement. Aemond doesn’t need to speak gibberish to know that they are fascinated by the melody of her voice and the playful tone she uses to make the story more engaging. He leans on the door frame, his body relaxing at the sound. Jaehaera puts her head on Y/N’s shoulder and eagerly turns the page, making her laugh again.

“You are an impatient little thing,” Y/N giggles.

“That she is,” Helaena agrees, and when Y/N turns to her, she is surprised to see that Aemond joined them.

“Pardon me, I didn’t hear you coming in,” she stands up in a hurry, both kids are instantly glued to her. “Your sister was kind enough to keep me company.”

“I asked her to come by after breakfast, and they haven’t left her side ever since,” Helaena explains, sounding very pleased.

“Would you mind if I steal this new friend of yours?” Aemond asks while keeping his eye on Y/N, waiting for her reaction. Her face flushes but he sees no indication of discontent. Aemond grudgingly admits to himself that it brings him something akin to joy. But it fades, absorbed by his numbness.

“Make sure to be on time for dinner,” his sister nods, calling for the nanny to take the kids.

It takes a little bit of persuasion but eventually Jaehaerys and Jaehaera let Y/N go, and she follows Aemond out of the room. She mentions that Helaena wanted to show her the library, and Aemond agrees to take her there. Along the way, he strikes up a conversation in attempt to compensate for their last one. As she’s telling him about her morning, her voice seeps into his mind like honey, and Aemond tries to concentrate to take the right turns and not trip on the stairs.

When they walk into the library, she pauses, looking around in awe. This woman makes men turn around after her, yet she is so easily impressed by the simplest things, Aemond thinks. The prince wonders if she can ever be impressed by him.

“This is where you study?” she is admiring endless rows of shelves, and Aemond gives her an affirmative “hmm”.

“How many of these have you read?”

“Quiet a few,” he is modest as ever, and she shoots him a curious look.

“I wonder what are your preferred subjects.”

“History and philosophy,” he doesn’t mean to sound so terse, but whatever interactions with women he’s had before, that experience obviously didn't turn him into a lady’s man.

“Would you be so kind to share your favorite books with me?” when she glances at him, there is a sparkle in her eyes. It looks like she’s actually interested to know more, as if she does want to know him. His immediate response, however, is to distance himself, and he takes a step back.

“I am afraid there are not enough hours in the day to name them all,” Aemond opposes, hands clasped behind his back.

“Please, take pity on me, I need something to help me pass the time,” she presses the matter further but does so very gently. “Name just a couple.”

He gives into her pleading tone and reluctantly agrees but they don’t stop at just a couple. They end up spending the day roaming in the library, lost in the labyrinth of shelves and books. She’s never too pushy with her questions, she’s making small jokes, she doesn't take offense at his cold demeanor. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, Aemond feels like someone is hammering at his left temple, and the pain echoes through his whole body. But he doesn’t dare to leave her hanging for the second day in a row.

The prince is too preoccupied with his internal struggle to notice that she's growing worried about him again, and by the time they come back for dinner, her face expresses an alarming concern.

“I must apologize if I tired you out with my relentless chatting,” she says, almost whispering, when they are seated.

“You did not, no need to fret,” Aemond states. I must apologize that you are to marry a man who can’t curb the pain that’s spilling out of him, he thinks.

Food is tasteless in his mouth. She is sitting on his right, and Aemond’s body can’t adjust to the foreign feeling of someone being in his close proximity. He is so accustomed to being on his own, he doesn't know how to unlearn that.

Throughout the whole dinner, Aemond can feel his mother’s gaze on him. Later that evening, when a maid brings him a cup filled with the milk of the poppy, he decides against taking it. He regrets it the very next day.

When Aemond tries to lift his head off the pillow, he feels like his skull is full of rocks. They’re rolling from side to side as the pain rumbles, and for a few minutes he can't hear anything else around him. That’s why, when Aemond opens his eye, he’s startled at the sight of his mother standing in the doorway.

“I did knock but got no response,” she gives him a look that’s a mix of concern and suspicion. She suspects that he’s unwell again and it concerns her. He wishes she never knew of that burden of his.

Aemond moves up in his bed, clenching his jaw. He knows his mother well enough to realize she must’ve had a reason for this early visit. Alicent proves him right when she speaks.

“The queen went into labor a couple of hours ago.”

He absentmindedly hums, not knowing how to react. His mother continues, with a hint of hesitance.

“There will be a feast when the baby is born. We thought... Rhaenyra and I, we thought it would also make for an occasion to do the announcement. About your betrothal.”

Her words come as no surprise to Aemond. It is what’s expected of him, it’s about his duty and his responsibilities, but this time he doesn’t want to think of that. He wants to be left alone, to drown in the layers of blankets, to go back to his short-lived slumber.

“The day Y/N arrived, I asked the queen to postpone the announcement. To give you some time to get to know each other,” Alicent takes a few steps towards his bed. “It seems like you’re getting along quite well?”

“I could think of no better woman than her,” Aemond admits and it is true. What he doesn’t say is that he can also think of a dozen other men who would be more deserving of her, more than he is.

Alicent catches the discreet sadness in his words but doesn’t know what caused it. She eyes her son with undisguised empathy.

“Her father implied that she is content with the betrothal, too. I thought you’d be happy to know,” Alicent gives him a lax smile. “I shall let you go back to sleep,” she adds and leaves.

Aemond knows he’ll get no sleep now. He repeats the well-known routine of deep breaths with the minimum movements, scraping up the remains of his strength before leaving the room. He goes straight to Y/N’s chambers, wondering if his mother visited her, too, and how that visit went.

To his surprise, she is nowhere to be found. A maid informs him that she left the room a few hours ago. He can’t find her in the library and she isn’t in Helaena’s chambers, either. He searches for her in the courtyard and then goes back to roam through the corridors, peering into every room on his way. He’s lost in his thoughts until he hears Y/N calling his name. Aemond turns around — and there she is, at the other end of the hall.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she skips towards the prince, beaming. He could never imagine anyone being this happy at the sight of him. She stops when they are only a couple of meters apart, her smile glowing.

“We must’ve passed each other, because I’ve been looking for you, too,” he confesses. She seems very pleased with herself though he isn’t sure why.

“I think the weather calls for a walk,” she blithely suggests. “Would you like to accompany me?” — as the words leave her mouth, she reaches out a hand to him. For a moment Aemond is looking at her baffled, and then hesitantly takes her hand. Her skin is soft, fingers warm, and she intertwines them with his own. That gesture comes so naturally as if they’ve done it before, yet Aemond clearly hasn’t. The feeling of holding someone’s hand is unusual to him. But it seems enjoyable.

By the time they get to the garden, Aemond finds that her hand fits perfectly in his. He is blushing profusely. He also notices that his headache receded a little and he can’t help but think that she was the reason for that.

“Your mother came to me this morning,” she informs him as they are walking hand in hand. “I assume she talked to you, too?”

“She did,” Aemond confirms. “Am I right to guess we had the same conversation?”

“Well, mine was about uniting two great Houses,” she mimics a man’s voice, and Aemond grasps that Otto was there as well. “Your grandfather gave a very convincing speech.”

“He had a lot of practice while being the Hand of the King. Maybe he misses having an audience,” the prince chuckles and she laughs.

Aemond holds a pause and then adds. “Forgive me if I’m being too blunt but I wonder if the conversation was of unpleasant nature to you.”

“It was not,” she slows her steps. “I know what’s expected of me and I will perform my duty. But if I’m being honest...,” she turns to him, and the tenderness of her gaze tugs at his heart. “I am glad that it’s you,” Aemond feels a flare of an unknown emotion deep in his chest. “We’ll make a pretty good team. Wouldn’t you agree?”

Aemond lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He looks down at their hands and then back at her.

“It seems so,” he tells her, a slight smile in the corner of his lips. There is a moment of comfortable silence as they make a short stop in the shade of the trees.

“But I shall give you a warning,” she says with a mischievous grin. “My siblings take any celebration very seriously. Every single relative of ours will come to the wedding, and most of them won’t shy away from enjoying a cup of wine... Or two.”

“Can any of them outdrink Aegon?” he jokes, and she bursts into laughter.

Aemond gets carried away by their conversation once again, losing track of time. While she’s listing her relatives, adding innocuous remarks about each of them, the prince is enthralled by the warmth that radiates off her. Her presence alone calms the storm of his insecurities, lulling his fears to sleep. She does that so effortlessly, it’s almost intimidating. But there’s a certain thrill to it, too — the thrill of being close to her, sharing laughs and stories, and Aemond clings to that feeling.

He enjoys the moment while it lasts; until his headache predictably creeps up on him a few hours later. He can’t tell if she senses that something is wrong but she’s the one to suggest returning to the castle. Aemond gladly accepts it.

On the way back they are greeted by one of the guards who notifies them that the queen gave birth to a girl. She lightly squeezes Aemond’s hand.

“Tomorrow is a big day then,” — and the prince knows exactly what she means. The fragile bond that they only started to get the hang of will soon become public knowledge. It won’t be their secret anymore but rather an over-discussed gossip.

“There is still time for you to plan an escape,” Aemond jests half-heartedly.

She looks puzzled for a second, but then shakes her head.

“Only if you’re planning one. We are in this together, remember?” her thumb brushes over his. “It’s all about teamwork.”

Aemond savors the last fleeting minutes of their day. He barely touches the food at dinner, the pain in his head intensifying but he pushes through. When the time comes for them to part, he doesn’t want to. That feeling is alien to him and the prince is clueless about its nature. But he knows that with her any misery will be bearable.

When Aemond walks into his chambers, he notices a little jar on the bed table. It’s the one that the maester used to bring him the ointments in, and the prince sighs. The maester doesn’t grasp the extent of the problem but occasionally would suggest a thing or two to help with the pain. They’ve tried using cold packs, then the warm ones, tried massaging his temples, then drinking cinnamon tea, then adding some ginger that’s known as a remedy for reducing inflammation... Nothing has worked so far.

But he should make an effort.

Aemond barely glances inside the jar and tosses away a piece of paper with the instructions scribbled on it. The prince already knows it all too well: he applies a thick layer of whatever that concoction is on his scar, involuntarily wincing at the cooling sensation. It smells of herbs and feels oily but absorbs into the skin pretty fast.

For some reason, his mind goes back to his mother’s words — “I thought you'd be happy to know.” Aemond is unsure what happiness means. The happiest day of his life is forever chained with the worst one, smeared with blood and pain that he's been carrying through the years.

But now that he met Y/N, he questions if there’s more to life than what he's been through so far.

While he is laying in bed, Aemond wonders if can consider her his friend. If she will ever be more than just a friend to him.

And then, before he knows it, the prince is fast asleep. He wakes up feeling like a new man. At first, he mistakes that feeling for the remnants of his dreams that he was enveloped with at night. He shakes off his drowsiness and looks at the ceiling, catching a glint of sunlight that seeped through the curtains. That's when Aemond realizes that the pain is gone.

He sits up, bewildered, waiting for any sign of discomfort yet nothing happens. He waits for a couple of minutes — and then for up to thirty, but his head is clear and doesn’t ache at all. His eye shifts to the jar on the bed table, and Aemond makes a note to extend his gratitude to the maester later. Suddenly the upcoming festivities don't seem so torturous anymore.

He doesn’t get a chance to see her throughout the day as everyone is preparing for the feast. When Aemond walks into the hall of the Iron Throne, he takes in the decorated surroundings. Unlike the last time he was here, now he wants to remember every detail, knowing that this evening would be of great importance.

The room fills with people, but Aemond patiently waits for her alone. He spots her the second she steps in. Her dress is violet, the material bright and luminous, and it puts her into the spotlight yet again since she's the only one wearing that color. As soon as she takes her place at the table next to Aemond, her hand finds his. He's getting used to that way too fast. It’s hard not to.

The first round of toasts goes to honor Visenya, the newborn daughter of the Queen. Rhaenyra willingly tolerates the sweet talk, generous with her smiles and appreciation. At some point, when the timing seems right or maybe when her cheeks are already aching, she gives a nod to Alicent, and Aemond knows what it means. As she starts her speech, he ruefully releases Y/N’s hand.

But right when they are standing up, with everyone around cheering and staring, she lightly presses her body against his, and Aemond feels how tense her back is. That’s when it dawns on him that she’s well aware of the attention but she doesn’t really like it. Instinctively, he puts his fingers on her waist, his touch respectful and delicate. She breathes out and briefly rests the back of her head against his shoulder. For a moment it feels like it’s just the two of them.

That feeling doesn't go away.

Usually, he’s not the one to take part in dancing, but he does so for her. Aemond feels out of practice and he can’t tell if that's what makes his head spin or if he’s getting tipsy from the intimacy of their dance. Her moves are elegant, well-rehearsed, her body follows the rhythm of the music with ease. He doesn’t remember when was the last time that silly activity brought him so much elation. Did it ever?

Time flows by in a blur, and they eventually take a pause after going into a fit of giggles at the sight of Lord Velaryon trying to improvise a move and failing, only to amuse his loving wife. Y/N suggests going out for a while and Aemond is keen on following her but then his mother catches up to them, her hand and her gaze are on him in an instant, pulling him away.

“Aemond, you’ve been dancing,” she can’t hide her bewilderment, a timid smile on her face.

“Should I not? Seems like a suitable occasion,” Aemond chaffs with a tilt of his head.

“It is, indeed,” she doesn’t let him go just yet, and he discerns the hidden meaning of her words, the apprehension she fails to conceal. Aemond wants to grant her some respite, at least for the rest of the day, so he tells her with plain-spoken sincerity:

“I can assure you, this isn’t a cause for your distress.”

But then he quickly finds a cause for his when he doesn’t see Y/N around. He goes searching for her in the crowd, then leaves the room altogether, coming out into the hallway.

Aemond hears her before he sees her — and she isn’t alone. It takes no effort to recognize the second voice, which belongs to no other than Jason Lannister. As the prince rounds the corner, they come into sight, and Aemond has a very bad feeling.

He missed the start of their dialogue, and the look on her face is unreadable. She’s oblivious to Aemond’s presence and he decides to watch them. He tells himself that he’ll never allow her to get into trouble. There is something very tempting in having a chance to save her from anything; as if he feels the need to prove himself to her. He tries not to entertain that thought.

“... It’s not too late to change that, don’t you think,” Ser Lannister purrs, his tone sickly sweet but arrogant.

“It is. Which I have no regrets about, ser,” when she talks to him there's not a hint of friendliness in her voice.

“Your approach may be short-sighted. The proposition of mine wasn’t of a frivolous kind,” he’s circling her, the manner of his movement is borderline predatory.

“I believe you will soon find a lady to welcome your advances but I would very much prefer to drop this conversation,” she recapitulates.

Aemond tenses up, feeling like this is the moment for him to step in. Then he looks at her and realizes that something is off. Her face expression changes — but it’s not a look of fear. By the rising of her chest, he detects that her breathing sped up, eyes are shooting daggers at the man in front of her. She’s looking, for the lack of a better word, positively furious.

But Ser Lannister, apparently, is not very good at reading signs as he comes improperly close to her.

“I can be very persuasive,” his fingers fall on her back — and then go lower. “I think you should appreciate the attention while I’m this generous and...”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. In about two seconds his face is suddenly slammed into the nearby wall, the hand he put on her is now twisted behind his back. Y/N uses her free hand to push right between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the stony surface.

To say that Aemond is shocked would be an understatement.

Right at this moment, she looks like a different person. This side of her he’s not acquainted with but it only adds to her appeal. The change is barely perceptible: she’s still maintaining her posture, keeping up the face of a woman who knows her worth. But Aemond catches a flaming spark of defiance that threatens to shutter her restraint. He can sense her anger from far away despite her doing her best to contain it.

“I do not know what kind of attention you are used to, but you’re forgetting your manners. Next time you dare lay your hand on me, I will not hesitate to break it,” her voice doesn’t lose its usual softness, but now has an added layer to it. It sounds sharper, bolder. It sounds like she’s not afraid of anything.

She lets Ser Lannister go, taking a few steps back and smoothing her dress. He is frozen at first, but then slowly turns to her.

“You didn’t... You did not just do that,” there’s a visible red mark on his cheek that will undoubtedly turn into a bruise.

“Did what, ser?” her tone is laced with coldness.

The man looks at her in disbelief, his face is a parade of emotions — from shock to annoyance to anger.

“You will not get away with this,” he scowls, nettled.

“You are telling me that you’re considering letting everyone know you were overpowered by a woman? Sounds hard to believe,” she seems unfazed.

His mouth opens and closes a few times before he roars:

“You, insidious wre—!”

This time Aemond is the one to interrupt the man. “I suggest you watch your tone when speaking to my betrothed.”

She flinches at his voice, turning to face him, and Aemond slackens his pace a little.

“Shouldn’t she watch hers? She’s talking to a lord,” Ser Lannister exclaims lamely, his arrogance instantly toned down a notch.

“And I see no wrongdoing on her part. Care to explain what got you into this situation?”

“It was a... a simple misunderstanding,” his excuse is so pathetic that it makes the prince sneer.

“And what was the matter in question?” Aemond comes closer to the man which makes ser Lannister evidently uncomfortable. He carefully contemplates his next move.

“I only wanted to extend my congratulations on her betrothal,” the man fakes a smile. “Mayhaps I expressed myself poorly.”

“You should opt to choose your words more wisely next time,” Aemond looks down on him. “Perhaps you are needed somewhere else?”

“I shall rejoin the celebration then,” ser Lannister eagerly agrees and bows out way too quickly.

Aemond can barely wait for the man to get out of sight before turning to her. Even though the prince witnessed the whole thing, he can’t stop himself from asking:

“Did he harm you?”

“He didn’t get a chance,” she mumbles, avoiding his gaze. She looks so embarrassed, he wants to offer her some comfort but isn’t sure how.

"Dare I say we’ve got enough interactions for one evening?" Aemond tries to lighten the mood yet she only offers him a half-hearted smile.

“I will escort you to your chambers,” the prince suggests, and before she can argue he adds, “I know you can stand up for yourself if needed. But I insist.”

She doesn’t move an inch.

“...You are not mad at me?” she’s looking at him with doe-eyed sincerity, clearly upset. Aemond is mad at himself.

“I am thinking about cutting his arm off,” he says under his breath, but she catches it.

“Aemond, there’s no need!” she gasps and he sees a glimpse of a smile on her lips.

“I will have to disagree,” he starts but then she grasps his elbow and Aemond’s hand — finally — clings to her again.

“I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me,” she confesses. 

“And I don’t want you to get hurt,” his fingers caress her arm through the lace material. Her cheeks heat up and Aemond finds it adorable.

“I think I... I was the one who did some damage,” she complains.

“You must imagine my surprise,” Aemond drawls, teasing.

“Oh, Gods,” a quiet groan leaves her mouth. “That was not very ladylike of me.”

She covers her face with the other hand, her grip on his arm loosening. Aemond dithers before gently brushing her palm away from her face.

“You did the right thing and you have nothing to be ashamed of,” he enunciates each word. “He only sets an example of unseemly behavior.”

“I’m afraid I wasn’t too far off,” she remarks, her voice relenting.

“Hmm, you are certainly not to be truffled with,” he retorts, earning a faint laugh from her as they start walking, arm in arm.

“May I inquire how did you... master that very handy skill?” Aemond ventures to ask. That image of her — brave and unapologetic in her anger — will be forever engraved in his memory. Aemond is apprehensive about voicing his curiosity, uncertain of her reaction but when she answers:

“My father taught me that,” her tone is surprisingly impish.

“And how did you manage to talk him into it?”

“Talking didn’t help much, actually,” she grins. “And then I broke my brother’s nose and my father decided he should find a way to guide my enthusiasm.”

“How old were you?”

“Nine,” she looks so satisfied with herself, Aemond can’t hold back a small laugh.

She joins him and they fall into the comfort of each other’s company. But then her smile wilts.

“There was a time when I was the youngest child and my siblings... They weren’t very nice back then,” she blurts out. Aemond feels his heart sinking.

“What did they do?”

“Oh, it wasn’t that bad, honestly, they were only teasing. It’s just um,” she’s looking for the right words or maybe for an acceptable explanation, but there isn’t any. “It was very tiresome mostly. I could never understand the reason for them being mean.”

Aemond is yet to tell her the story of him losing his eye, and the memory pops back into his head in a flash. He knows exactly what she feels, his own sense of helplessness fresh in his memory. And it still stings the same, and Aemond loathes that.

While he revisits the past, unwillingly slowing his pace, she spots the change in his demeanor within seconds. She sees his facial features congealing, his fingers clenching, and she comes to the only conclusion she can make.

“Is it the headache?” her voice is suddenly quiet, and Aemond comes to an abrupt stop. The question catches him off guard, words stuck in his throat and his mouth agape. He doesn’t know how to react nor does he understand how could she possibly know that.

She is quick to clear up his confusion. “I noticed not long after we met and then your mother confirmed my suspicions. I am sorry that I didn’t ask you directly, I thought... I didn't want to sound intrusive,” she explains coyly.

“By asking about my health?” he finds his voice again. “I am to become your husband, you are free to ask such questions.”

“We’ve only known each other for about a day back then. Surely, you’re allowed to take more time than that to open up to someone,” she kindly points out.

A day. Up until now the only person who’s known about his pain was his mother, and for years no one else ever questioned his well-being. And it took her a day to notice that something was wrong.

“Did the ointment help?” she asks hopefully. For a second he thinks he heard her wrong but the shadow of concern on her face tells him otherwise.

“That was your doing?” he can’t hide his amazement, and it elicits a laugh from her, sonorous and dulcet. Aemond likes the sound of it, he really does.

“I’ve been fortunate to obtain the knowledge required,” she informs him.

“And what kind of witchcraft is it?”

“It is not,” she playfully elbows him. “It was something my grandsire taught me. He used to have an ache of a similar nature. No one could understand the cause of it, and it only got worse with age. But my grandmother refused to sit idly by and one day she found a way to ease his pain,” she has a dreamy expression on her face but it melts into a wistful one. He guesses that both of her grandparents passed away.

“After her death, he wouldn’t let anyone help him. It took me months to persuade him and eventually he let me on her secret,” her smile is bittersweet. “Then he died, and I never thought the recipe would come in handy ever again.”

Aemond hates seeing her wallow in sadness. He puts his palm on top of her hand in an attempt to offer some consolation. If there was a way to free her of that grief, to take at least some of it upon himself, he would’ve done it in a heartbeat. But his touch is enough to bring back the cheerfulness in her voice.

“I should mention that your maester did help, too, although he was reluctant at first,” she reveals.

"And I presume that it also took some convincing?" Aemond thinks of the maester’s face that always looks like he is surrounded by imbeciles.

“I shamelessly boosted his ego,” she wrinkles her nose. “Told him there was no way anyone would ever be as skilled as he is, and that my attempt was merely a gesture of goodwill.”

“But it wasn’t just that,” Aemond cordially protests.

They already reached her chambers but he doesn’t want to let go of her hand. He wants to tell her that meeting her was like taking a breath of fresh air after being held underwater, like finding a source of light in the pitch darkness of the night or feeling the warmth in the dead of winter. Aemond wants her to know that she’s been a saving grace for him, but he’s somehow at a loss for words, his thoughts jumbling together.

“It was way more than that and I...,” never in his life had he gotten this tongue-tied and flustered. Yet she treats him with the same kindness and with no sign of prejudice, listening closely and keeping her eyes on him. Her gaze is disarming enough to make him say the first thing that comes to mind.

“I must admit, you exceeded my expectations,” Aemond breathes out.

It immediately feels like the worst, the dullest choice of words possible, and he wants to sink into the ground right this second. But then he sees her natural smile, genuine and bright, blossoming on her face again.

“I am glad to be of service, my prince,” she murmurs the last part, and his heart skips a bit.

He didn’t register the moment she came a bit closer, but she isn’t shying away from shortening the distance. There’s something enamoring about her trusting nature but that’s not what draws him in. For the first time, he experiences an unfamiliar feeling that tightens his chest, makes his breathing rapid. His gaze slips over her face, down from her radiant eyes to her smile, framed by the lips that look as soft as freshly bloomed flowers. The feeling melts into an urge — he only needs to take a step, to lean his head forward just a bit and...

Aemond inhales deeply. He thinks they are in no rush, he thinks it would’ve been disrespectful and naive. He’s mostly afraid to misread the situation, to scare her away.

But he wants to make his intentions clear. Aemond runs his thumb over her knuckles, brushing them one by one. And then he takes her hand to his lips, planting a kiss on it. He allows himself just this flicker of bravery before straightening up and releasing her hand. When he looks at her, her gaze is directed at him already. It feels like a particular question is hanging in the air; they let it dissolve for now.

“I shall bid you goodnight,” her eyes linger on him for a second before she turns away.

As Aemond watches her go, he is certain he wants them to be more than just friends. Lucerys’s name day comes in a about month, and by that time Aemond’s routine has changed drastically. It might look the same: he wakes up with the sun, flies with Vhagar, he trains regularly, he spends his free time reading — except now Y/N is a part of his every activity.

She’s never nosy or clingy; he is the one seeking her company at all times. She’s an early riser, too, and they are always the first ones at the breakfast table: he asks her about her dreams, they make plans, they poke fun at Aegon, who is perpetually sleepy, and she can effortlessly hold any other conversation with his family which only makes him ever so pleased.

She watches him train with genuine curiosity, she never looks away nor flinches, even when he gets too competitive and rough. Her attention is flattering — and it’s all on him, and it feels unusual at first, but becomes empowering and he bathes in it.

When he takes her to meet Vhagar, she is terribly nervous. Aemond jokes that meeting his old dragon will pose no challenge after she handled Ser Lannister. It gives her enough confidence to pat Vhagar’s snout as the beast observes her calmly. Aemond assures her that the dragon will never go against his wishes. What he wants to say is that Vhagar senses how he feels about her.

They spend evenings in the library, both absorbed in reading but always sitting close by, their arms and shoulders coming into contact more often than not. He sometimes can’t help but get distracted which leads to him forgetting about his book, instead secretly watching her, his glance full of adoration.

For a while, he’s oblivious to how inseparable they’ve become until Helaena tells him one day, while Y/N is playing with Jaehaerys and Jaehaera in his sister’s chambers. When Helaena mentions it ever so nonchalantly — “You two seem joined at the hip!”, it startles him. But that moment doesn’t turn into an awkward one — instead, Aemond realizes that he's not scared anymore.

“I will steal her away from time to time,” Helaena says, as cheery as ever.

“Bold of you to assume I will let you,” he chuckles, his gaze not leaving his betrothed.

“I think she’ll have the last word,” his sister retorts with a cunning smile.

Aemond doesn’t think twice before admitting. “She will never say no.”

“My point exactly.” The Queen plans a great hunt to celebrate her secondborn son, and a feast is being held in no time. Aemond detests those pompous events yet Y/N seems too enthusiastic about the idea, and he begrudgingly agrees to participate. He has no wish to burden her with his weighted resentment toward Luke but, as usual, she sees right through him. She asks him if he has any reservations about the upcoming celebration, and that’s when he decides to tell her. Aemond doesn’t want her to pity him nor does he want to upset her so he keeps the story brief: he claimed the dragon, his siblings didn’t like it, things escalated way too quickly and they haven’t been on good terms ever since. 

She heeds his every word, then bluntly asks. “Must you really go?”

He ponders before answering with a sigh. “It would be rude not to. I should pay my respect.”

“I wish he had the courtesy to do the same for you,” she frowns.

“It would be a little too late for an apology,” Aemond shrugs even though her caring tone moves him deeply.

“I still think you deserve one,” she says like it’s the most obvious, logical thing in the world. He wonders how obvious the reddening of his cheeks is.

“I do not wish to dwell in the past when so many great things lay ahead of me,” and he only means her. Having a future with her is his greatest blessing.

She bestows him with her softest smile. “I guess we should make the best out of the situation we are in. Maybe you will have some fun hunting.” Aemond doesn’t know what was her definition of fun, but his definitely doesn’t involve babysitting Aegon. Yet that’s what he ends up doing as they get separated from the group of hunters and his brother gets so drunk, he can barely stay in the saddle. He babbles and whines and Aemond is on the verge of praying for a miracle when the two of them finally stumble upon a boar. The younger prince catches the animal without a struggle.

“Oh, must be good to be a boar. Wild and free!” Aegon grumbles on their way back to the camp.

“I just slit his throat. I doubt you would want to switch places with him.”

“I didn’t say I want to switch places,” he shakes his head so vigorously, he almost falls down. Aemond moves his horse closer, grabbing Aegon by the shoulder to steady him.

“Although switching places with you sounds tempting,” he sneers.

“And why would you ever want that?” Aemond raised his brow questioningly.

“You got yourself a pretty wife-to-be,” Aegon chants and whistles.

“Are you asking for me to tie you to that boar? That can be arranged,” Aemond deadpans.

“ 'tis won’t be necessary,” Aegon's quick to object. “Whatever she sees in you, those qualities are not in my possession,” his frown turns into a grin and he winks at his brother.

Aemond lightly chuckles. “You’ll get no argument from me.” Leaving her is not an easy task for Aemond but coming back to her might be the second-best thing in the entire world. And the first one, obviously, is being with her.

When they return to the camp, he helps Aegon down, impatiently looking around, and as his eye lands on her, his breathing hitches.

She’s standing next to the hunting tent, surrounded by a group of ladies, Helaena by her side and they’re both laughing as his sister unsuccessfully tries to finish her sentence. Y/N has a violet in her hair, strands of it falling down her shoulders, her smile bright against the fading evening sun. She helps Helaena to articulate whatever she's talking about, the ladies around them cackling.

Aemond admires his betrothed from afar, savoring the moment.

It amuses him that her softness is a choice, that she chooses to be open-minded and kind, even though the world around her is armed to the teeth, and she does know how to fight back. And yet, that’s not what motivates her. Instead, she’s an image of benevolence and generosity, always understanding and forgiving, hence why people are so naturally drawn to her. And he is no exception.

Aemond gets distracted when a couple of servants approach him and he instructs them to take the boar’s carcass away.

“You had a successful hunt, dear prince,” when Aemond hears the question, he rolls his eye. Turning around, he sees Tyland Lannister with a smile so forged his face might crack in half.

“As usual,” Aemond answers indifferently. “Never took you for a hunter.”

“I cannot appreciate cruelty,” Lannister forces out. “And I am afraid I will not be able to negotiate my way out of a bear’s grip. So I am here merely to control my brother’s primal impulses.”

The mentioning of Jason makes Aemond cautious.

“Developing some self-control may be beneficial for him,” the prince mutters.

Tyland goes blanch white, taking the hint. “I was wondering if I should address the delicate issue of my brother’s sympathy toward your—”

“You should not,” Aemond cuts him off. “Would be better to address his manners but it’s the thing you must sort out amongst yourselves,” with that, he turns away to find Y/N again.

Except she isn’t there.

The ladies moved closer to the tent but she and Helaena are the only ones missing. It takes him a second to realize that the women look alarmed, glancing at the tent. Or rather inside of it.

Aemond all but runs there, going over the worst scenarios in his head. When he gets in and sees Y/N in the company of Ser Lannister, he thinks he’s never been angrier in his life. If Aemond was a dragon, the lord would’ve been burned to a pulp as of right now.

Jason keeps his distance and his face expresses nothing but regret yet it looks like it’s already too late as she is glaring at him with a sharp glint in her eyes. And in the next moment, she loses her temper.

“...What am I missing exactly?” she asks Jason, her voice unexpectedly loud, and it draws the attention of some nearby men. She doesn’t care.

“You’ve been eager to win me over, but I am yet to find a single reason why would any woman find your company endearing,” she takes a step toward the lord and he shrivels under the weight of her words.

“Is it the winery that your servants built for you? Is it your herd of fine horses? You talk so much about your stable, one may think your betrothed is to marry a stallion,” her smile is mirthless. Aemond hears a faint groan behind his back and recognizes Tyland’s scared tone.

“But what are your accomplishments?” the tent gets deadly quiet as she continues. “Do you consider your persevering courtship to be one of them? Or your harassing of my parents, my relatives and even my maids with your never-ending propositions, no matter how many times were they all rejected? Or mayhaps ambushing me in the hallway counts as an achievement for you?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Aemond sees Helaena and Aegon, both looking stunned. Pretty much everyone around him has the same expression at the sight of Y/N. The prince, on the other hand, has never been more proud of anyone.

She looks at Jason as if she wants to bore a hole in him, her voice getting lower but harsher.

“You want to know what prince Aemond did? None of the above.”

Aemond feels his heart freeze at the mention of his name. She is yet to see him but when she speaks, it feels like she’s seen enough.

“The man I am about to marry has been nothing but kind, respectful and loving, fulfilling my every wish, granting me the comfort of his company and his loyalty. The man with the sharpest mind and the kindest heart — both of which you’re clearly lacking,” she casts Jason a disdainful glance. “So from where I am standing, it looks like I’m the luckiest woman in the Seven Kingdoms.”

When she feels a hand on her waist, she isn’t surprised and welcomes the touch with no hesitation, knowing full well who is standing beside her. She swiftly turns to Aemond, their eyes locking.

“I would like it if we left earlier, my prince.”

“As you wish,” Aemond wishes he could marry her right now.

Disregarding everyone’s attention, he leads her out and asks the coachman to fetch their carriage. When they are away from prying eyes, her confidence wavers a little. It only fuels Aemond’s ire.

“Give me just a second,” he can’t help himself.

Aemond goes back to the tent — and right to the Lannisters, one of them is already scolding the other. Tyland stops his lecturing when he notices Aemond, but the prince doesn’t let him make a sound.

“That was the second time your brother couldn’t hold his tongue,” Aemond ignores Jason and walks up close to the other man. “If you care about his well-being in the slightest, make sure there will be no third time.”

“Aemond, let us not make another scene. You must think how that will look like...”

Aemond stares Tyland dead in the eyes and promises:

“I will gut him like a boar. Imagine how that will look like.”

Without saying another word, the prince storms off.

Y/N already got into the carriage, fidgeting with the hem of the dress as she falls deep into her thoughts.

“Ser Lannister will not bother you anymore,” Aemond says, sitting next to her.

“I sure hope so,” she mumbles, looking down at the wrinkled fabric.

“Whatever he said, you should not let it get to you. I do appreciate the gesture,” way more than he cares to admit, “but there’s no need to go through the trouble of standing up for me,” Aemond barely finishes the sentence when she retorts:

“I will.”

She looks at him, her eyes burning with blazing certainty.

“No one took your side when you were a kid. But I’m doing it now,” she states as her palm covers his, the touch is as warming as her glance.

Aemond thinks he is the luckiest man in the Seven Kingdoms. He runs out of luck so fast, he must’ve jinxed it. They are nearing the castle when the pain on the back of his head stings so unexpectedly, he winces, his eyebrows furrowing. She notices it immediately and insists he should take a rest when they arrive.

“Mayhaps you have some of the ointment left?” she wonders, leading him to his chambers. Aemond rarely allows people to coddle him but he accepts her care freely. He is also aware that the near-miraculous balm that she makes is long gone because he hasn't had a headache in a while.

When she finds out, she looks devastated.

“It must steep for a few hours, I can’t make it right away,” her enthusiasm brittles. She glances at him in a dither, mulling over something, while he lights the fireplace.

“There is another way that I know of,” she slowly suggests. “But you will need to lie down."

“Quite a vulnerable position you want to put me in,” Aemond lightheartedly jests but brings himself at her disposal with no second thoughts.

She sits on his bed right next to him, the bend of her hips an inch away from his arm.

“Close your eye,” she asks calmly and he obliges.

Aemond senses that she leans over him and he struggles not to hold his breath at the realization of how close she is. Then he feels the tips of her fingers on his face, the touch is so light and gentle, it makes him shiver. The pattern of her movements first contours his face, then goes up to his forehead, then slowly glides onto his temples. She massages them delicately in a circular motion.

“It was probably all the noise that caused this,” she presumes.

“Or maybe the fact that the man makes my blood boil,” Aemond says, although his anger is completely gone by now.

“He is pissed I didn't choose him,” she laughs quietly.

“Choose him?” her words peak his interest. “You had a choice in the matter?”

“My father said he would hate it if I marry someone I didn’t like,” her thumbs are following the lines of his cheekbones, then run under his chin, then all the way up to his hairline, right next to his ears.

“May I ask what was your decision process?” Aemond selects his words very carefully. What he really wants to ask is why would anyone pick him, out of all people.

“I’ve heard you claimed the biggest dragon in the world at the age of ten,” he can’t see her smile but he can hear it. “That was impressive enough.”

Aemond takes a peek at her through his lashes. “That can’t be the only thing you’ve heard.”

“I can distinguish valuable information from pointless rumors,” she notes imperturbably.

“I bet those rumors included the stories of me being the scariest man in the realm...”

Her fingers cover his mouth and he stumbles.

“I decided I would be the judge of that,” she says firmly.

“And what is your verdict?” he can't stop himself from asking, his pulse speeding up.

She doesn’t think for a second.

“All the people who were spreading those vile tales clearly have never met you. There isn’t a single bad thing I can think of when it comes to you.”

Aemond shouldn’t take it to heart but that’s precisely where it hits, her voice cracking his shield, her eyes telling him she will never regret knowing him, caring for him. He thinks this is what true happiness is — being with someone who will choose you every time.

Her fingers graze over the strip of his eyepatch and she pauses her movement. She isn’t breaking eye contact, waiting for his reaction, for his permission or refusal. Aemond gulps, helpless under her gaze, and doesn't stop her.

She picks up the leather strip slowly, as if she wants to give him a chance to change his mind. Aemond watches her, his body still, heart rate booming in his ears. She removes the eyepatch and looks straight at the sapphire that gleams brightly in the warm lighting. And then she smiles.

“What do you see?” he exhales.

“Nothing scary, that’s for sure,” her gaze doesn’t leave his face, her index finger tracing the scar, barely touching his skin.

“Nothing I don’t admire,” her voice is a little above a whisper.

“Nothing I wouldn’t love.”

His heart is beating so fast, it feels caged and ready to jump out at any second. Aemond forgets about the headache as if it never existed. In this state of bliss, he contemplates making a very emotional decision. But she makes one instead.

She lowers her face closer to his and all of a sudden he feels a touch so light, it’s almost like a petal brushes over his skin. It’s her lips. She kisses his face — his scar — moving tenderly from the high point of his cheek to the area under the sapphire and then right above what’s left of his eyelid.

When their eyes meet again, Aemond can only think of one thing.

He surges upward, his lips colliding with hers — she responds in an instant. His chest feels like it’s on fire as kissing her is the most overwhelming feeling in the world, but he doesn’t want to stop, ever. Her fingers gently slide down to his neck and Aemond uses his arm for support as he sits up without breaking the kiss. He then pulls her closer, one of his hands on her lower back and the other nestled under her jaw.

She softly sighs into his mouth — and it might be his new favorite sound. She tastes like berries, her lips getting more eager, fiery, addictive, and he is dizzy with joy and longing, trying to memorize each second. The pacing of the kiss grows heated and intoxicating as they melt into each other perfectly. They only part when both are out of air, their lips tingling, swollen and craving to continue.

“I must admit,” she tries to catch her breath, she can’t stop smiling, her hands caressing his face, “you exceeded my expectations.”

Aemond laughs, cheerful and carefree, his nose bumping into hers.

“It’s all about teamwork, as I’ve heard,” he plants a quick peck on the corner of her mouth — and on the other one. And then they are kissing again, desperately drawn to each other. He’s lost in the sound of her voice, in the feeling of her lips on his.

His love for her is all-consuming. Her love for him is healing.

Turns out, letting her in doesn’t make him lose. With her by his side, he always feels like a winner.

✧ the title is a quote from Hozier’s song ✧ I originally took inspiration from this post that lists the possible consequences of losing an eye. I also can’t help but mention the extensive research that @adderess did, which only adds to that heartbreaking yet very realistic concept. ✧ I have a playlist for Aemond 🎵 I didn’t add any music in this fic BUT I’ve listened to “Mr Sandman” a lot, especially the instrumental version. 💕 my masterlist

English is not my first language, so feel free to message me if you spot any major mistakes!