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thought--bubble · 11 months ago

Text

Same as it was

Aegon II X (Prostitute Reader)

Warnings after the cut

Word Count: 2432

Aegon Masterlist

Full Masterlist

Snake Banners by @arcielee

Caution Banner by @zaldritzosrose

Warnings:: dirty smut. There really isn't much plot lol. Oral (M & F Receiving) , Squirting kink, Overstim, cum play. Infidelity (technically).

A/N: This is my first attempt on Aegon and is based on some head cannons I have of him. I am totally open to any comments or suggestions about writing him.

"He's a damn usurper!" You whisper hushed to Marella.

Marella is your madame for lack of a better term.

"You're his favorite girl, and he has ordered you specifically. There is nothing I can do. " She grits her teeth and continues shuffling through dresses and holding them up against your body.

"I... I can't! When Queen Rhanyera inevitably comes to claim her throne, I'll be killed!" You bite at your fingernails, anxiety pumping through your body with such harshness you were afraid your knees would buckle.

"You place far too much importance upon yourself. You're a whore. They likely would just pass you off to someone else."

Your stomach turns at the thought. You don't mind working in the brothel. It feels safe. You have the madame and the other girls if something were to go wrong, but this, what Aegon is asking for, It's just too much.

"Why can't he just come here as he always has?" You plead with Marella desperate for her to understand your plight.

"Because he is a king at war. He can not just frolick into town and fuck a whore in his leisure time. He is being watched, and there is a bounty on his head!" Marella chooses a plain looking green dress that hugs your feminine curves. "Here put this on"

"NO! I'm not going!" You rip the dress from Marella's hands and toss it onto the bed. "If there is a bounty on his head and they come looking for that head while I am in his bed, what is to happen to me then?" You look at her expectantly with eyes wide. She couldn't possibly send you there knowing you will most likely be killed. Could she?

"You would most likely be killed. But if you do not do what he tells you to do, you could be killed right now." Marella picks the dress back up off the bed, shoving it harshly against your chest. "Die now or die later. That is your choice. King Aegon has made his choice, and that choice is to have you, up at the castle for him to call upon as he so pleases, I have grown to care for you over the years but not enough to cross the King! Now get dressed!"

You know she's right. Aegon wanted you badly enough that he sent two guards to escort you back to the keep. A place you knew you didn't belong. Queen Heleana is there. You have heard the stories of her generosity and kindness but how kind could she be to her husband's favorite whore?

Not to mention the ever so pious dowager queen, who no doubt would sooner set herself on fire then show any kindness to a whore who regularly services her married son.

"Why me?" You whimper to yourself as you drop the current brown dress you are wearing to swap it with the green one Marcella had chosen for you.

Marcella chuckles from behind you. "Never know with men. Sometimes they find that one thing they like and that's it. Whatever it is for Aegon, it seems you have it."

You roll your eyes and huff as you shake your head in disbelief. "Gods." You look up to the ceiling as soon as you have the dress on. Fighting back tears. He is going to get you killed, and you know exactly why, all because of that one thing you do in bed that he always claims is "so rare."

You straighten your back and shake out your limbs before you exit the room head held high, walking directly to the two men who had been sent to fetch you.

"Put this on." One of the men handed you a hooded cloak. You quickly put it on and lower your gaze. You were going to go with these men and hope that at some point in the future, there would be a chance for you to escape. One of the men grips your upper arm tightly as he leads you out of the brothel, and the three of you head up to the red keep. Each step bringing you closer and closer to your new life as the King's personal whore.

As soon as you breech the gate, the men move faster, and the man holding your arm pushes your head down further. Clearly, this was a mission that was to be completed without alerting other members of the royal family or council.

It is only once you are ushered into a chamber that you are finally allowed to lift your head. "Stay here." is all the man says before swiftly exiting the room.

That final bang of the heavy door slamming makes you flinch. "This is it, isn't it?" You hold your stomach feeling like the little bit of food you ate this morning might make a second appearance.

"I am going to be imprisoned in this room, as the King comes and goes as he wants." You push the hood back off of your head and look around the chamber.

It is the most beautiful room you have ever been in. Luxurious quilts are laying across the top of the large oak bed. A chaise placed strategically by the window a bookshelf to the left.

A small table and two chairs off to the side of the hearth and a wash basin in the corner of the room. If you had to make a choice in being locked up somewhere, this was probably one of the better options.

You take the cloak off and hang it over the back of one of the chairs and reach for the wine that was left on the table. You pour yourself a large cup and start to chug it, and as soon as you finish, move to pour yourself another as you hear the large door opening.

You close your eyes tight, you haven't seen him but you know it's him. That familiar chill crawls up your spine and the back of your neck, alerting you to his presence.

In truth, he is not a cruel man. As far as targaryens went, he was actually quite gentle. But he has a hunger that is incredibly hard to satiate. It's like he is empty and is desperate to fill the empty space with anything, sex, drink, food, anything he can get his hands on.

"How are you settling?" Aegon wastes no time at all quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist as he presses himself up against your back.

"Why am I here? You know you could always just send for me. " You feel him push your hair to one shoulder and start trailing soft kisses along your neck.

"Then I would have to await your arrival and hope you aren't busy with other customers." He gently nibbles up the side of your neck while sliding the flat palms of his hands up your stomach and over your breasts.

"This way, you're always right here when I need you." He presses himself tightly up against your ass. His hardness was evident through his trousers. "And I need you right now." He nips at the top of your shoulder, sending waves of pleasure through your entire being.

"And if someone asks who I am? Why I am here? In such nice chambers?" He chuckles into the crook of your neck.

"No one will ask. I'm the king I do as I like. " He whispers sensually into the shell of your ear as he pulls your dress down off your shoulders. "You know what it is I want"

You know exactly what he wants and how he wants it. That is why you are his favorite. You slide the dress the rest of the way down your form, stepping out of it.

You turn towards him a lustful gleam in your eye as you take his bottom lip between your teeth. "Of course I do your grace".

He takes your head between his hands and kisses you like you are air, and he has been suffocating. The neediness radiates off of him in waves.

You push him back and chuckle as you walk toward the bed. He might be a king and a feared man out there in the land of westeros, but in here, in this room, he is a desperate wanton fool and has no qualms with displaying it. He follows on your heels reaching his hands out trying to get hold of you once again.

You crawl onto the bed on all fours as he excitedly tears at his clothes, desperate to remove them as quickly as possible.

You stay positioned on your knees on the bed waiting for him. You have done this so many times, you know exactly how to start.

He jumps into the bed and lays down flat, pumping himself to hardness while he waits for you. "C'mon, C'mere," He whines as he reaches his hand out towards you.

You can't help but giggle at his desperation as you lift your thigh up over his head and bring your heat just above his face.

"Oh, thank you, beautiful." He says as you smother him with your cunt just the way he likes it. He dives in lapping at your soft inside while flicking your nub with his finger. His other hand pushing at your back urging you to get to work.

The feeling is overwhelmingly good, sending shocks of pleasure down your legs with tingling in your toes. You lean forward and take his cock into your mouth as he grunts loudly into your heat.

"Yessss, that is it" He growls and rubs his entire face into your cunt jamming his tongue inside your body with the finesse of an extremely practiced partner.

You moan onto his cock your drool dripping down the sides and pooling amongst the short silver hairs at its base. He moves his hips up jamming his cock further down your throat.

You make sure to take it as far as you can, fighting the urge to gag as the heat in your stomach builds up to an incredibly compact tightness.

You roll your hips dragging your cunt along his face feeling the smile he presses against your folds. He is in his favorite place burried in the cunt of his favorite whore. He harshly takes your hips in his hands pushing you down further onto his face. Lesser men would suffocate, but Aegon could breath you in all day and remain upright and alert.

He sucks and licks at your clit with precision knowing exactly how to make you topple over the edge and as soon as you do he brings his fingers to your clit and vigorously rubs in quick circles overstimulating the nerve to get exactly what he wants.

When your legs clench tight and you gasp with his cock hanging out of your mouth he knows he is about to be rewarded with his favorite treat. He opens his mouth wide as you gush over his face like a fountain, and he attempts to catch every drop.

He had accidentally found out that you were capable of such things one night down at the brothel and that is how you became his favorite whore. You always found it comical when the other girls would tell you of the borderline torturous overstimulation he would put them through just to test if they would do the same thing.

Aegon laughs with glee as he pushes you off of him. You assume the next position placing your cheek flush against the quilt of the bed, leaning your ass up in the air.

"See? Fully trained. Why wouldn't I bring you up here?" He chuckles giddily to himself as he grips your hips, placing you directly in front of him while he slowly slides himself into you. He loves to watch. He is a visual man this much you had learned. He spreads your cheeks apart so he can see clearly as his cock slides in and out, your wetness collecting at the base.

"I swear it gets better every time" He speeds up his movements gripping your cheeks harder as he continues to watch himself fuck into you with a look of utter satisfaction on his face. "This cunt. Somehow its perfect, does just what I want"

"Yes your grace" You feed into his need to be respected, you had learned that quite sometime ago, he wants to dominate, feel a sense of power and control that he just does not have in his every day life.

He ruts into you harder hitting that sweet spot with accuracy. He's been fucking you for years he knows your insides, probably better then you do at this point.

He brings one hand down around to your clit and rubs against it with moderate pressure.

"One more" He barks out with strained desperation. "C'mon"

As if Aegon's mere voice could command your body, you found yourself spiraling toward another release.

"Yes, your grace, as you wish!" You moan as he drills down into you gasping for air and rubbing your pearl furiously as once, again he makes you see stars, quickly changing the motion of his hand from a circle to a vigorous rub the overstimulation making your legs shake.

"Give me it, Give me it!" He commands, slamming into you with such force the posts of the bed shake. Everything around you slows down as the buzzing in your ears grows louder, and with one final screech, you give him what he wants and splash all over his hand and the quilt beneath you.

He then brings his wet hand up to your hip to hold you in place as he nearly impales you while chasing his peak, he reaches his end quickly with a snarl and as he does he pulls out and releases himself all over your backside spreading it over your cheeks and enjoying the shimmer of your skin covered in his spend as he rides out his high.

Aegon collapses down onto the bed with a laugh as you turn back to look at him.

"This is why you're here. War is stressful." He chuckles. "I won't have time to travel to that damned brothel as many times as I am going to need you."

"Need me?" You move up the bed careful to avoid the wet mess you had just left.

He gently strokes your cheek with his thumb. "Yes, I need you, and once I catch my breath, I think I'll need you again"

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#aegon the second #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #aegon x reader #king aegon #hotd aegon #aegon targaryen #aegon ii #tom glynn carney #jess fics

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vampyrincey · 26 days ago

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luffy ; boyfriend head canons —

✦; luffy x gn! reader, fluff. purely self indulgent. categories ; sleep & cuddling, dates, and jealousy.

[ part i | part ii | part iii ]

✦ masterlist.

# sleep & cuddling

Luffy is the kind of person to love cuddling. Whether he’s the big spoon or the little spoon doesn’t matter to him as long as you’re both nice and cosy.

He tends to move a lot, yet somehow always ends up clinging onto one of your limbs.

There’s never a night where he isn’t all cosy up against you, all snores with the occasional sleep talk.

Sometimes you’d wake to bite marks all over after one of Luffy’s dreams of giant banquets.

Lose all hope of getting out of bed before he’s awake. It is not happening. He’ll have all his limbs stretched out and wrapped around you till the morning.

Or at least until the smell of breakfast wakes him.

# dates

Dates with Luffy almost always end in trouble.

Trying to have a picnic on the beach? Giant killer crabs and Sea Kings come crawling and wreck everything.

Date night at a small and cosy restaurant? The bounty hunters in town manage to find the two of you, chasing you out of town.

The only play safe is the Sunny. Sitting on the figure head is always enjoyable. When the ship is not under attack, at least.

Even with how chaotic things would get, by the time noght came the two of you would be wrapped up in each other’s arms, as peaceful as could be.

Luffy wouldn’t give up those times for the world.

# jealousy

Luffy isn’t an inherently jealous person. He’s pretty easy going, and tends to laugh things off. If you get asked out by someone he doesn’t know he wouldn’t let it bother him, brushing it off.

“ I know you only like me, why would i worry?

If he knew them, however, it would likely be a slightly different story. Especially if they had went out of their way to ask you out.

He would grumble about it for hours, about how they could do that when they knew you were spoken for, and soul likely refuse to speak to them too.

He wouldn’t need much to move on from it, though, seeing as, at the end of the day, you’re all his.

Being jealous of people pursuing him, however, would be hell.

Romance isn’t something Luffy has ever been used to. Heck, getting together was a nightmare in on itself. But dating him was worth the trouble and more.

He couldn’t tell if someone was flirting with him if they had smacked him in the face with a love letter.

This was both a blessing and a curse.

On one hand, you had nothing to worry about. Anyone who bothered to ask him out would only end up

The more pushy suitors, however…

A well placed death glare or a little PDA worked well.

Thankfully, even though Luffy was one of the the best people ever, he didn’t get many since he’s the straw hat pirate’s captain.

#✦ vamp’s drabbles #x reader #x male reader #luffy x reader #luffy x male reader #quick somebody shoot me #luffy x female reader

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pascaloverx · 3 months ago

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BORN TO DIE

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Author’s Note: This work is set in the world created by George R.R. Martin, as depicted in his book Fire & Blood, and none of the characters belong to me. The story will follow some events from the series House of the Dragon (2022), but with changes to fit the fanfiction narrative. Therefore, it will not adhere strictly to the series' storyline. This fanfiction is a work of fiction and may contain inappropriate language, adult content, and violence. Readers be warned. I hope you enjoy the story and interact with it. I apologize if there are any errors in the High Valyrian sections; I used a translator and am unsure of its accuracy. Whoever enjoys this fanfic and wants it to continue, please engage with it. Comment and give it a like.

Warning: This chapter will contain inappropriate language and adult sexual content. Minors should not read or interact with this chapter or this fanfic.This chapter will also feature Aegon II x reader. Those who do not like it, consider yourselves warned.

FOUR SIX

FIVE (+18)

With your hair still damp, you realize you have no idea where the dinner celebrating King Aegon II’s “great conquest” is being held. As a dutiful girl, you stand outside Prince Aemond’s chambers, waiting beside his door. You are certainly not prepared to face any of the sons of the late King Viserys, that much is certain. First and foremost, Prince Aemond likely only keeps you alive for the sake of your dragon. His opinion of you is poor, and it will not be an easy task to change that. As for King Aegon II Targaryen, he has claimed your dragon as his triumph, and it is only a matter of time before he lays claim to you as well.

After what feels like an eternity, Prince Aemond finally emerges from his chambers, his silky hair brushing past you. He walks with haste, but you could swear you glimpsed a hint of a smile on his face, amused, perhaps, by how desperately you follow him. Eventually, the two of you reach a grand room, where a large, bountiful table awaits. Seated there are several figures—among them, you can imagine Queen dowager Alicent and Queen Helaena, along with men of importance whom the King favors enough to keep near. What matters now is that you and Aemond have arrived to take your places at the table, all eyes upon you, while you remain half-hidden behind the One-eyed Prince.

"Brother, come join us. Bring the bastard whore with you; I’ve chosen a special place for the both of you." King Aegon speaks, taking long swigs of his drink, his tone almost gleeful. Prince Aemond turns back to look at you, his gaze offering some semblance of reassurance. He then walks ahead, making his way toward the two vacant seats—one directly across from the King, and the other beside it. You hesitate, uncertain of where you should sit, until Aemond takes his place across from his brother. With a sigh, still unsure of why you’ve been seated next to the King himself, you quietly take your place at Aegon II’s side. As soon as you settle, Aegon seems to revel in your presence, a sly grin playing on his lips, while Aemond’s irritation becomes palpable. Queen Helaena remains composed, though it's clear she’s discomfited by not being seated beside her husband, yet she betrays no outward sign of it. As for the Dowager Queen Alicent, her gaze upon you is filled with disdain, as though your very presence disgusts her, a look of barely concealed nausea crossing her face.

"And what have I missed whilst I was out there, risking my life so that my beloved brother might revel in yet another triumph? I trust you are basking in this small victory claimed in your name, Your Grace," Prince Aemond speaks with veiled mockery, his tone laden with provocation, clearly aiming to stir his brother. The King, however, merely chuckles in response, rising from his seat as he lifts his goblet, maintaining a steady gaze upon Aemond.

"I have a new dragon under my command, brother. Celebrate this with us and cease your sulking—no more complaints. In fact, as you bring with you two pieces of news, tell me, who is the bastard that claimed a dragon on my behalf?" King Aegon II speaks with a slurred voice, clearly intoxicated, as he takes another long swig from his cup before seating himself once more. For a fleeting moment, you feared the brothers might come to blows right before your eyes.

"She is a whore who once worked in a brothel. By chance, I learned she might be a candidate to claim a dragon in your name, Your Grace. Her name is Y/N. One might say she is here both as the rider of Cannibal and as my companion." Prince Aemond speaks with an air of possession, making it clear that you belong to him, even daring to assert this in front of his brother. The King throws his head back and laughs heartily.

"This is an outrage, Aemond. It is one thing for this bastard to be necessary for riding a dragon, but granting her liberties is quite another. She must be treated as any other servant within the Red Keep��or worse than a servant, for the nature of this woman is filthy. I trust the King will agree with this," the Dowager Queen Alicent speaks, her voice dripping with the same disdain her gaze conveyed when you entered the room. Her sons glance at her, seemingly holding back laughter or mocking expressions.

“Filthy or not, mother, this woman will be of utmost importance in ensuring our king's victory against Rhaenyra and her bastards. To treat her as a mere servant would lessen her efficiency in what truly matters, not to mention it leaves her vulnerable. If the bastard dies, we will have a wild dragon without a rider on our hands, and that is a risk we cannot afford,” Prince Aemond declares, calmly taking a bite of food as he finishes his words. Alicent appears momentarily unsettled by her son’s reasoning, her eyes shifting to Aegon, as if seeking his support.

"If my presence displeases the Dowager Queen, I shall take my leave. With your permissions, Your Graces, Your Highnesses," you finally speak, sensing the discomfort your presence has caused. Rising from your seat, you move to step away, but before you can retreat, Aegon seizes your hand with a sudden force, drawing a soft cry from your lips. The king's grip tightens, and the flash of pain seems to amuse him. His gaze locks onto yours, not just with the arrogance you'd expect but with something far more unsettling. His eyes burn with a mixture of hunger and fascination, it feels as though he sees nothing but you, the intensity of his stare sharp and invasive, as if he seeks to consume and control.

The room falls into an uneasy silence as King Aegon II holds you in his gaze, the weight of his attention making your skin prickle. You remain frozen, unsure whether to meet his eyes or look away. The tension only breaks when Aemond clears his throat, the sound harsh, cutting through the stillness. The awkwardness breaks when you hear Aemond clear his throat, the scrape loud and sharp. His expression is dark, fury simmering beneath the surface for reasons unknown.

"Gundjabo, sit down. Your king has not given you leave from the table; and as long as you remain my companion, where I go, you shall be," Prince Aemond commands, his voice calm yet laced with authority, as though he were merely stating a simple truth. Despite the firmness of his words, there’s a measured quality, as if he’s reminding you of an expectation rather than issuing a harsh order. King Aegon II shifts uncomfortably, visibly displeased that his brother spoke before him. The tension between them is palpable, but the thick scent of alcohol clinging to Aegon suggests his ability to assert himself coherently is slipping. His eyes cloud with frustration, though no sharp retort escapes his lips. The haze of drink weighs too heavily on him, making him less dangerous but no less unpredictable in his demeanor.

"Dragons are delicate creatures; to tame one, you must forsake the other. Your survival will depend on this," Queen Helaena murmurs, her hand gently gripping your arm just as you make to sit again. Her gaze is heavy with sorrow, perhaps even anguish, as though she pities you deeply. The weight of her words lingers, leaving you unsettled and confused, though you dare not disregard the queen’s cryptic warning. With a quiet nod, you gently remove her hand from your arm, your fingers brushing hers in a gesture of respect. You offer a slight bow of your head, as if signaling your understanding, though in truth, the meaning behind her words remains a mystery to you.

"My wife’s mind is clouded. She must be in need of rest," King Aegon II declares, his voice languid, as though half-expecting someone to escort the queen away. The Dowager Queen takes a sip from her goblet, her gaze cold and unreadable. With a nod of reluctant duty, she rises, helping her daughter to her feet. Together, they leave the hall. It’s clear that Alicent seized the opportunity to withdraw, no doubt irritated at having to dine in the presence of someone she deems as filthy as you. Helaena, however, seems shaken, likely still grieving the loss of her son. You cannot help but feel a twinge of empathy for her. Having lost your own mother not long ago, you understand the pain of trying to remain composed after a great loss. The weight of grief can be unbearable, and you imagine Helaena is suffering under its relentless pressure.

"We should return to our celebration," King Aegon II declares, his voice thick with drink and a trace of a grin forming on his lips. "Soon enough, we shall be feasting over the defeat of my sister, the maker of bastards." He raises his cup again, indulging in yet another long sip. You quietly take your seat, trying to maintain your composure under the weight of so many eyes. Though the room hums with voices, you can feel the unwavering gaze of Prince Aemond on you, as if his watchful eye would catch even the smallest misstep. The tension lingers, but you remain silent, unsure of what fate awaits you in this unpredictable court. The fact that you are being watched by Prince Aemond in itself is not a challenge until King Aegon II begins to run his hand under your thigh. The fabric of your dress is what separates his hand from getting dangerously close to your pussy. You bite your lip lightly as you try to hide it, as King Aegon II continues to touch you.

It is undeniably awkward, feeling the touch of the King upon you, yet a gnawing intuition suggests this was his intention from the moment he chose to seat you beside him. Stranger still, Prince Aemond seems fully aware of the King’s actions, though his silent fury is evident as he continues to eat, his movements tense with unspoken rage. Deciding to test the waters, you gently place your hand atop King Aegon II’s, running your fingers softly across his skin. His response is immediate; a faint sound of surprise escapes him, as if your touch unsettled him. However, moments later, he pulls his hand away, only to lean in closer, his breath warm against your ear. His voice, low and thick with intent, whispers, "I shall be waiting for you in my chambers." The words send a jolt through you, and you almost choke on the piece of bread in your mouth.

The remainder of the dinner passes with far less tension once King Aegon II rises to address the other guests, his attention mercifully drawn elsewhere. Seizing the opportunity, you quietly decide to slip away, hoping to escape the lingering eyes and unspoken threats. Rising from your seat, you move with practiced stealth, making your way out of the hall. A walk through the darkened corridors of the castle feels necessary—anything to clear your mind from the weight of the night's events and to gather your thoughts about what may come next. However, your solitude is cut short when, without warning, a hand grabs you and drags you into a nearby room. Another hand quickly covers your mouth, stifling your startled gasp. Panic flares briefly, but then you recognize the touch, the familiar grip.

"What business do you have with my brother?" Prince Aemond inquires, his hands firmly gripping you—one at your waist and the other covering your mouth. Despite the inappropriateness of the moment, you find yourself enjoying his evident jealousy. He impatiently waits for your response only to realize that he must remove his hand from your mouth to allow you to answer him.

"Your Highness, your brother is my sovereign. Aside from that, there exists no connection between us. Should there be any misunderstanding, permit me to clarify that I harbor no intention of causing offense to anyone." You speak with an air of feigned innocence, aware that deceiving the Prince is of utmost necessity. Otherwise, your carefully laid plans may be imperiled, and you have not endured so much only to face failure now.

"Do you presume to deceive me? Gundjabo, I trust you understand the peril of attempting to mislead me. I am well aware that he was touching you, likely suggesting a meeting later. Pray tell, what could possess His Grace to take such an interest in you?" Aemond speaks with a sadistic edge, a near diabolical laugh escaping his lips upon concluding his words. You ponder how to respond appropriately but soon realize that a different approach may prove more effective. Drawing the Prince's face closer to yours, you lean in as though to kiss him. The tension in the air is palpable, intoxicating; the scent of Aemond envelops you as you claim his lips as if they were rightfully yours. This time you are in control of the kiss, devouring Aemond's lips. His tongue is battling with yours for dominance in the kiss but when you pull his hair back a little, you see him get lost in you. His hands now dominantly holding your waist, you using your hand to massage his cock over his clothes. Even though you just relieved him a few moments ago, he already seems excited. And then you push Prince Aemond away, pushing him away abruptly.

"I trust I have alleviated your doubts, Your Highness. However, should this demonstration fail to satisfy, allow me to use words. Your brother, our beloved King, desires from me what any other might wish. Do not forget, you refer to me as gundjabo for a reason. I wish you a pleasant evening, Prince Aemond." With that, you swiftly exit the chamber. As you leave, you hear a loud noise behind you, prompting a smile to grace your lips. It is evident that you are toying with fire, yet at this moment, it is the best course of action you can take.

As you regain your composure, you begin to traverse the corridors behind the chambers of King Aegon II. The castle is vast, yet your determination drives you forward. His goal is to gain some sort of influence over King Aegon II, if screwing him is what he has to do, it will be done. It wouldn't be the first time you've given yourself to him anyway.

"Are you looking for me?" The King speaks as he leans against the door of what you assume to be his chambers. Your gaze towards him is like that of a predator seeing its prey. As if the fire within you was ignited by your previous encounter with Prince Aemond, you don't take long to attack King Aegon II's lips, kissing him. His lips are like pure alcohol, you feel like you're losing your breath but not in a sexual way. He awkwardly tries to put his arms around you, but you quickly hold him against the door to his chambers. He doesn't know where to put his hands, he needs you to have dominance.

"Your Grace, we are too exposed. Queen Helaena might be nearby, which would be an inconvenience. Don't you think it would be more prudent to keep our distance?" You speak with feigned innocence, almost bordering on naivety. You even gently place your hands on Aegon's face, like he used to love you doing the times he went to the brothel.

"I am the King. I will not keep my distance from anyone I do not want. And right now, I want you in my chambers." Aegon speaks with a certain firmness, but the goofy way he says it almost makes you laugh. You decide to pretend to take him seriously.

"I am nothing more than your servant, Your Grace. If King Aegon II wants me, I must be his." Those words leave a bitter taste in his mouth but he seems to believe you. He gives you an awkward kiss and then pushes you into his chambers. As he suddenly opened the door to his quarters, you ended up falling on top of him who was leaning against the door. He laughed out loud, while you were already getting less horny. Then his firm hand pulls your face close to his, forcing a kiss on you. The kiss is hard, he doesn't know whether to use his tongue or bite your mouth. His hands are playing with the detail of your dress, which is holding the back of it together. In the middle of the messy kiss while you're under him, he unties the detail of your dress. This causes your dress to almost fall down and reveal your naked body.

"Be mine, you bastard whore. I promise you that if you give me your wet little pussy, I will give you as many bastards as you want." King Aegon II has a habit of talking nonsense after getting drunk. You're already adapted, you were the prostitute he fucked for a few years. You kiss him to shut him up, trying to show him how to kiss in a more attractive way. You suck his tongue, slowly; while your eyes are closed. You'd be lying if you didn't say that with your eyes closed, you can imagine yourself kissing Prince Aemond. Aemond may be a greater risk to your safety but he knows how to turn someone on like no one else.

"Your Grace, I want to try to do something. I assure you that you will like it." You say, practically sitting on top of Aegon's dick. Either your kiss is really good or the drink has already taken over him, because all he does is mumble something that sounds like an authorization. Either way, you rip the hem of your dress, taking the torn piece of fabric and using it to blindfold King Aegon II.

"What are you up to, whore?" King Aegon II says as he runs his hands all over your body. You tear the dress from your body, and any other clothing you were wearing. Taking advantage from the King's vulnerable moment, you remove the pieces of King Aegon II's clothing. In reality you only remove the essentials so he can fuck you.

"I just want you to feel good, Your Majesty," you reply, almost whispering against the King's ear. You giggle lightly as you feel him drag his nails down your thigh. Before riding his cock, you kiss him. In the middle of the kiss, his hands go to your face and hold you firmly. Then you position his dick at the entrance of your pussy, going down and up his dick. He smiles, even blindfolded; for a moment you imagine what it must be like to ride Prince Aemond. Him with his eye patch, would it be like this? If you could now, you would leave Aegon only partially blindfolded to get a better idea of what it would be like. The hands of King Aegon II, hold your breasts, massaging them while it seems that he wants to be connected to you in any way possible. You still going up and down on his cock, kissing his neck while moaning his name. You start to increase the friction between your pussy and his cock when you feel he is about to cum. For a moment between the moans of both of you, you throw your head back continuing to ride the King's cock, but imagining what it would be like if you could taste his brother's cock. Your reveries are only interrupted when King Aegon II aggressively touches your nipples, trying to stimulate them. The feeling is nice so you end up moaning even more, maybe even a little too loudly. It is then that King Aegon II, groping you, pulls you closer to him and kisses you aggressively. He bites your lip, with such force that it cuts your lip, causing some blood to come out. The taste of your blood is in his mouth, which seems to excite him as he moves his waist more as if he wants to give stronger thrusts while he forces his lips against yours even with your blood being all he will taste.

"Your taste is so delicious that it should be reserved just for me . Your mother was right, you are special. You seem to have been made to be eaten by Targaryens. It's even in your blood." He speaks against your mouth while you were still kissing. Shortly after he cums inside you, while his hands are pressed against your back. You could stop fucking King Aegon II, but you were too eager to feel something. So you continued to move up and down on his cock, grinding a little. King Aegon II didn't seem to mind, especially when you stood over him, kissing his chest, then slowly moving your kisses up to his neck, biting him lightly but you wanted to bite him until you ripped off his skin. As your hands were passing close to his neck, you imagined yourself pressing your hands tightly against his throat. But you kept kissing him, from his neck to his lips. While fucking yourself using his cock, at least that's what it looked like. Finally as you kiss him, you cum under him. He also apparently managed to cum a second time.

"I must leave your chambers, Your Grace. Know that I am grateful that you have welcomed me into your chambers," you say as you climb off of King Aegon II, removing the piece of cloth from his eyes. Then you start to dress again while the King, sits on the floor, half naked; watching you.

"There's no need to be so urgent about leaving. Helaena isn't sharing quarters with me. To be honest, I haven't fucked her since Jaehaerys died." Aegon opens up to you as you finish getting yourself decently dressed. Strangely enough, he seems genuinely sad, you just don't know if it's because of his son's death or because he can't fuck with his wife.

"I am certain that, in time, Queen Helaena will return to your chambers, even if only with the purpose of granting you an heir to the throne," you say softly, seating yourself upon the floor near the King. He approaches, his touch light as his fingers graze your face.

"I do not have the luxury of waiting for Helaena to grant me another son," King Aegon declares, his tone unguarded, as though he is not concealing the gravity of his words. "We are in the midst of war. My son was my legacy, and with his death, it is only a matter of time before my claim to the throne weakens. I need a legitimate male heir to pass the crown to when the time comes." His words are spoken as if ridding himself of his wife were a mere formality, nothing more.

"Your Grace will surely find the best course to resolve this dilemma, just as you shall win this war. By the grace of the Seven, you will prevail. With your leave, I must attend to the obligations of your brother’s company." You rise to leave, but King Aegon II seizes your hand.

"Outside these chambers, you may be a dragonrider, Aemond's companion, or whatever else proves convenient, but within my quarters, you are mine. My whore. Have I made myself clear?" His words send a chill through you, the bluntness unnerving. In response, you take his hand, kneel before him, and press your lips to his in a kiss, one that you strive to make seem spontaneous and tender, masking your dread with feigned affection.

"Indeed, Your Majesty. I bid you a good night." You murmur as your lips part from King Aegon II's, maintaining an air of composure despite the tumult within. With deliberate grace, you rise and depart from his chambers, your gown partially torn, the weight of what you have set into motion pressing heavily upon you. The realization that you are treading into the dragon’s den, fully aware that you may emerge burnt or broken, settles like a shadow over your resolve. Yet, no act of vengeance is without its cost. You understand this well. You shall endure, for the memory of your mother demands retribution—even if it should be your last undertaking.

"My mother was right about you. You truly are a filthy whore. If you've finished entertaining my brother, gundjabo, I believe your dragon would greatly appreciate your company tonight." Prince Aemond's voice takes on a deeper, more menacing tone, clearly seething with irritation. He had been standing near Aegon’s chambers, likely waiting. You offer no retort, silently accepting his words as you watch him stride away, his silver hair swaying with his steps, his presence intimidating and cold. All that remains is your hope that Cannibal will be in a forgiving mood, willing to offer you refuge for the night.

GLOSSARY

Gundjabo - Prostitute

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sayafics · 1 year ago

Text

Dance of Shadows - Chapter II

Thank you to everyone who showed so much love to Chapter I and waited so patiently for this chapter! I do hope you enjoy it. Reading all your comments and seeing your likes and reblogs made me feel so appreciated, so thank you again!

This chapter will be very Daemon/Saenyra focused, but please presume everything else happens as normal <3

This is quite a long chapter, but I hope it's worth the read!

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

The crowd roared in unison, a crashing wave of victory and excitement rolled through the tourney grounds as the people of King's Landing yelled in celebration - the tourney has begun, and so has Queen Aemma's labours.

Saenyra's father held the tourney in honour of her maybe-brother that was itching and turning to leave her mother's womb.

She wanted to be by her mother's side, to hold her hand, and ground her during the pains of bearing a child.

But Viserys had promised the girl Aemma would be fine, that it was of more importance she was to attend the tourney. As that was where her duty required her to be - an ornament, a prize placed at the forefront of a bloodied battle for men to lust for, soldiers to grovel for, and Lords to prepare bounties in exchange for.

Of course he had not said so directly to her, even his words, so gentle and kind, were not her's to listen to. Yet they were a silent command to follow.

Viserys had spoken the words to Rhaenyra, Saenyra had simply been there and nodded like the obedient child she was and obeyed an order they did not feel the need to grace her with.

In the back of her mind, Saenyra knew if her absence did not draw up the suspicions and whispers of the people, then her father would have paid no mind. Rhaenyra is heir, if not to the throne, then to Dragonstone.

She was simply a princess, with no power tied to her name nor land for her to cherish. All that came to her - all that would be her own, would first belong to the man her father asked her to marry. And, some nights, Saenyra feared she would not be able to deny her father's wishes, because she had always seen her father's words to her as they truly were - commands of a King, not the gentle whispers of a loving father.

The tourney had begun, and Saenyra sat next to her sister as she gazed upon the grounds, suppressing a flinch as she watched the men collide into each other with a violent crack. The sound was enough to snap her out of her reverie, realising she had already missed the introductions and did not know who was competing. She sat straighter, spine stiffening as she rolled her shoulders - it would not be good if the Lords and Ladies were to catch her ill-attention, cursing it as a lack of manners and a mockery to the Court.

She paid no mind to Alicent's and Rhaenyra's incessant whispers, knowing their words were not for her and to include herself would only lead to them drawing back until she stopped. So she sat, quiet and proper, eyes flitting over the game in front of her in feigned interest.

The man who had fallen was Ser Gwayne Hightower of Old Town, Alicent's brother. Saenyra remembers him well, recalls the whispers that Otto Hightower had proposed a marriage between his eldest son and one of Viserys' daughters, but it was Aemma who denied the match. She did not think it a coincidence when she had ran into the man the following evening in the library, and she was bound in suspicion when he offered to walk her back to her chambers.

To this day, Saenyra finds herself grateful that Ser Harwin Strong had found her in those moments, and she was gladdened to hear him offer to escort her back in his stead. Ser Harwin was a dangerous man, but he was also loyal to the crown and would do her no harm.

Ser Gwayne Hightower was his father's child, and Saenyra, despite all her years sharing the castle with him, had never known Otto Hightower enough to trust him.

She watched how Alicent held her breath as the armoured man knocked Gawyne off his horse with brutal ease. Ser Hightower conceded, and the man dressed in an armour of dark grey and riddled with red as dark as rubies cheered in victory.

Saenyra's eyes traced over the armoured man, following every curve and line that decorated the fine metal-work. She noticed him draw closer, and at his proximity Rhaenyra leapt up from her seat.

Rhaenyra exuded a familiar scent of childish glee at the sight of the man, and it was only then that realisation sunk in as gentle lavendar hues met the molten colour of vicious violet.

This was Daemon, dressed in armour fit for a dragon, so unlike the one she had seen him only before. He stood now, clean and shining. His eyes were bright, glowing with the fire of a new battle, his expression seemed eased, and Saenyra knew the tourney was nothing like the bloodbaths Daemon loved to seek.

"Nicely done, Uncle."

Daemon's eyes flitted to Rhaenyra, squinting against the sun as a pleased smile crossed his face. Saenyra couldn't help the jealousy that festered under her skin, to see her sister once again preen under the attention of their uncle who seemed to care for one sister more than the other - just like her father, just like her mother, just like the Kingdom and probably, just like her brother too.

"Thank you, Princess."

Daemon's words were spoken with a lilt, and any passerby would have assumed the man was enamoured by the girl who stood in front of him - the Realm's Delight.

Instead, his eyes bounced from Rhaenyra to her friend standing loyally beside her, and his mouth parted, ready to ask a question.

It was at that moment a glint caught Daemon's eye, and his eyes darted back to the quiet girl who sat in the shadows of her sister's tall and domineering presence. It was at that moment he remembered a call for a promise and a whisper to wait until the time came to be.

Daemon could have used such a promise to bargain some leverage, to gain the upper hand, and receive power or triumph in turn. But, eyes roving over the girl who avidly avoided his boring stare, he found he did not want to wait and see if a different opportunity arises. Not when he could live in a whispered moment of his desires right now.

"Now I am fairly certain I can win these games, Lady Alicent," Daemon watched how Rhaenyra's face fell as he addressed her friend instead of her, knowing what question lay on the tip of his tongue, and for a moment Daemon truly felt pity for the girl. "But having the favour of one so kind and gentle would all but assure it," he watched Alicent radiate a warmth of eagerness at his words, despite her attempts to stifle it in Rhaenyra's presence.

As a man who abhorred the existence of her father and his twisted words, Daemon could not help the thrill that wracked through him as he continued his words and watched the Hightower girl deflate.

"Would you send for my dearest niece? I have a question for her."

Alicent looked between Rhaenyra and her sister, pulling herself together as she deliberated her next course of action. Daemon raised a brow, and she nodded hesitantly in reply. She stepped backwards - once, twice. As though she was waiting for Rhaenyra to stop her - she never did. So Alicent turned on her heels and walked ever so slowly towards Saenyra who determinedly looked towards her fumbling fingers and avoided the eyes of her sister's friend, dread settling in the pit of her stomach at the sound of the approaching figure.

"Princess, your uncle calls to you."

Saenyra looked up with a frown, "what does my uncle want with me?"

Alicent looked over her shoulders for a moment, glacing at Rhaenyra's tense shoulders and Daemon's narrowed eyes - "I believe it is something you must ask him."

Saenyra regarded her with suspicion, eyes flitting over to see her uncle and sister locked in a bout of seething words. She found she did not want to approach, worried of what she may hear and what she may be asked.

Did Daemon want to ask for his favour now? Was it truly to do with Rhaenyra? Was that why she was so angry? Did Rhaenyra not want her to overhear what Daemon plans to ask of her?

Despite all the questions echoing in her mind like a deafening storm, she finds herself standing in a graceful manner and making her way to them with Alicent lurking a step or two behind.

When they approached the pair, Daemon and Rhaenyra were sharing a gaze heated by the fire of dragons - Rhaenyra glared at the man as though they had shared venomous words, despite them not being overheard by others.

Saenyra waited a few steps back, hesitance clouding her mind as she waited - hoping Daemon would call to her.

And he did.

"Saenyra," her name sounded so sweet, rolling off his tongue, his anger that flowed in steaming waves now seemed to lull in the air of her presence. "I have something to ask of you," a knowing look crossed his face, a sign that he was referring to their meeting by chance a few short days ago, and it was as though he knew she had not forgotten about it either.

Saenyra glanced towards her sister, but Rhaenyra simply avoided her gaze and stood with a passive expression painted along her face. Saenyra cleared her throat, her voice almost a whisper as she spoke, unsure of what to say, "of course, Uncle. What is it that you desire?"

She had stumbled over her words, cringing as she spoke faster than her mind had been able to think. But Daemon paid no mind, though his lip quirked with amusement as he thought of asking for her, then and there.

Alas, he knew he could do no such thing. So he commanded, an air of reverence in his words, "give me your favour."

His words were simple, so close to the words he truly wanted to say, but knew he could not with his brother's watchful eyes upon him.

Saenyra's cheeks heated at his words, but she did not miss how Rhaenyra's fingers tightened upon the railing, nor how her jaw twitched as she clenched it in irritation.

She almost said no, a part of her even wanted to - fearful of hurting her sister's feelings and possibly losing her in some way. But there was a selfish part of Saenyra, so young and wanting, that had craved for a moment such as this, where someone would ask for her in place of her sister. And she would truly be mad to deny this moment, regardless of how fleeting it came to be.

She bit her lip in feigned contemplation, and Daemon found himself growing warm in the confines of his armour at the sight. She glanced back at Daemon, unable to stop the teasing smile slipping onto her face as she leaned towards him over the railing - "only if you say please."

A flare of pure, unadulterated want radiated through Daemon at her words, and he found himself leaning towards her without a care for the watchful eyes of his audience - "please."

Despite all his savage glory, his plea was close to a whimper, and it seemed to ignite something in Saenyra he had never seen before. Her eyes glance to his lips before moving back, she pulled herself back with heated cheeks and laboured breaths as she clears her throat.

Saenyra turned to grab her wreath, only to find Rhaenyra stood infront of her with it in her grasp.

She stared at her sister for a few moments, unsure of what to do. It seemed even her father was not sure if he should intervene, and Otto simply watched with an interested gaze.

Rhaenyra held the wreath tight, her unrelenting grip causing the flowers beneath to crumble and give in. Saenyra glances back to Daemon's waiting figure, a shroud of determination settles in her as she regards Rhaenyra again, taking slow steps towards her before holding the wreath firmly and taking it from her grasp, she spares her sister a stiff nod - "thank you, Sister."

Rhaenyra doesn't move, nor acknowledge her. She simply waits to see if Saenyra would truly go ahead with this, and give Daemon what he seeks.

Saenyra walks towards Daemon, her steps much more sure and confident. She leans over the railing and gives him a shy smile. He returns it with his own - a broad and mischievous grin.

She reaches towards him to place the wreath, and just as the flowers brush the tip of his sword, he cants his horse to step back away from her as a glorious laugh escapes him. Saenyra can't help the way her heart flutters at the sound, but she rolls her eyes all the same - "Uncle."

Her words were drawn out in feigned annoyance, and he pulled himself back closer at the sound, waiting for her to reach out again before moving away.

"Ugh, Uncle. I swear to the Seven, I will simply take my seat again, and you can fight without my favour."

Daemon tuts, "we can not have that now, can we? Perhaps to make it easier, you can come onto the grounds?"

He raises his brow in challenge, so sure she would not heed. But a look over her shoulder, into the eyes of her raging sister, was all it took for her to move towards the stairs and duck under the arms of a cautious guard.

She ignored the calls of her father and his Hand, the indignant call of Rhaenyra and her friend. She stepped onto the grounds with a huffed breath, but her lips were stretched into a traiterous smile as she walked towards Daemon, who met her halfway.

Daemon unmounted his horse, leaving his joust on the ground as he moved towards her in slow, deliberate steps. He paid no mind to the baited silence of their audience nor the exasperated calls of the Court. He stood in front of her, his armoured boots brushing against the billowing skirt of her dress - a pale pink that stood brightly against the sun.

Saenyra held the wreath out towards him, a simple ring of flowers decorated in shades of blues and yellows - her favourite flowers, irises and begonias, formed into a colourful cluster.

Daemon reached out to accept it. His fingers, encased in his harsh and cold armoured gloves, brushed slowly over the petals to then skim the skin of her warm and delicate hands. Saenyra shivered, goose-flesh running up her arms as she repressed the tremble that silently wracked through her body. His touch paused as metal met metal, and his armoured fingers glided against a ring made of familiar steel.

A ring, so dark and grand, sat on the Princess' hand in place of where her future bethrothed's would. And it was made of Valyrian steel, a shared piece of ancestry.

Daemon admired how the ring looked upon her finger, how the blood-soaked jewel hammered into it radiated against her skin as though it was proud of its wearer and yearned to be showcased because of it.

A shared piece of him.

***

Daemon had avoided Saenyra after his trysts in Silk Street, unable to meet her eye or hear her voice without his mind flashing back to his escapade with Myseria, where all he could think about was Saenyra.

The lengths he would have gone to have her, or someone that simply looked like her.

His stomach would roll with nausea, and his mind was heavy with questions. He found himself needing to apologise with no true need except for the guilt that plagued his mind due to his traiterous fanatasies.

The night after his venture with Myseria, he found himself lazing away in his chambers as the sun fell into the arms of the night sky and the moon rose in its place.

Daemon found himself staring up at the ceiling, eyes tracing over every animate shadow and ears on alert for every step and whisper that sounded at his doors.

His heart beat at a calm pace, but every thud brought a sinking feeling of unease to settle in the confines of his chest. His mind began to wander, his thoughts flitting between images of his night with Myseria, to his gift to Rhaenyra, to walking into his little niece.

Daemon remembers how he struggled to force his gaze away from her bare neck - a princess of a Kingdom so grand and powerful, and yet her father would rather have the girl dressed as a commoner than royalty.

Daemon scoffed at the thought - oh, how he wanted to adorn her in jewels and diamonds, to weigh her heavy in the best of refineries so others would see just how much her beauty was worth. How much she is worth.

But he had already given Rhaenyra a necklace, and he wasn't blind to Saenyra's stares of sadness and envy. He knew to give her the same gift he gave Rhaenyra would be nothing short of an insult.

He would do no such thing.

He closed his eyes in frustration, his racing thoughts barely allowing him to catch a breath long enough to lull himself to sleep. He sat up stiffly, throwing his legs over the edge of the bed as he held his head in his hands.

A deep sigh escaped him, thumbs digging into his eyes as though he was forcing away the images of Saenyra - trying to forget her moonlit hair, her pale eyes, her murmured words and her hesitant breaths.

Daemon glanced towards the fireplace that now burned low, the heat had dampened down, and a cold chill filled the air. It was a feeling akin to flying Caraxes in the winter sky, a scathing feeling that somehow brought a warmth to him all the same.

His eyes rested upon his sword, which stood defiantly against the hearth. Dark Sister looked almost black in the shadows of a dying fire, the rain-guard glinting a violent gold against the blade.

Rhaenyra's necklace had been a piece of shared ancestry.

But Saenyra deserved something more. For all she had done to be a dutiful daughter, she had not shared the grace of being a true dragon despite the blood of one burning through her veins.

When she was younger, a hopeful child who was so sure her egg would hatch as she aged, Daemon had pitied the girl. Even now, his heart would clench in sympathy for her. But he could see how such a loss of an opportunity had strengthened her.

She was just as much of a dragon as he was, despite never having one to call her own. She was just not able to see it yet.

Daemon saw a fragment of his soul in hers. The part of him that yearned for his father's approval, his brother's love. The fraction of him who had ached and begged for a dragon before he made it his mission to tame his own.

Daemon had called for a blacksmith the next day before daylight had broken and offered a pouch of Gold Dragon coins with one hand and his Dark Sister with the other.

Daemon knew exactly what his sweet girl deserved - what she needed.

Saenyra was a dragon, through and through - she simply needed a reminder of such.

The blacksmith had returned before dark, standing nervously with trembling hands as he offered Daemon his sword with one hand and held forth a cotton bag in the other.

Daemon glanced over his sword, his eyes easily catching the part that did not belong. The pommel was the same gold as his rain-guard, but it seemed dainty in comparison. He longed to hold his sword and test it for deficiencies, but his eyes caught the ivory bag clenched tightly in the hands of the blacksmith.

Daemon laid out his hand, and the bag was placed upon it with hesitance. Daemon rolled his eyes at the man's slow movements and snatched the bag away, pulling the ties open and tipping its contents into the palm of his hand.

A bejewelled piece of metal fell with a light thump. The metal felt familiar, even though it had been melted and twisted into something he did not recognise.

The band was simple, engraved with vines and flowers that were so quaint yet so detailed. And fitted perfectly in its centre sat a timid, glowing jewel likened to a pool of congealed blood.

Daemon thought back to the necklace he gifted to Rhaenyra, how its jewels were a bright and lively red. A mockery of who Daemon pretended to be.

This jewel, this colour, this steel. It was a part of him - a reflection of who he was. It was admiration and bloodshed and protection all in one. It was a silent promise and a vicious outcry.

It was a gift, fit for a princess. Fit for Saenyra.

Daemon reached for his sword, turning it over to have a look at the pommel of his sword where Valyrian Steel had been replaced by something else - it was a worthwhile sacrifice, he thought. His hands fisted around the ring, relishing in the feel of it imprinting against his skin.

Daemon had walked through the Keep with the ring settled in the pocket of his chemise for days now, unable to bear the courage to face her in fear of what his desires may ask of him.

It was not until the day of the tourney that he found himself in front of the youngest Princess' chambers. He nodded in greeting to her guards, not waiting for them to announce his presence before he marched into her chambers - he could not risk allowing hesitance to cloud his decisions and walk away.

Daemon held his breath as he closed the doors behind him. Saenyra sat at her dresser, combing through her hair before the sound of Daemon's loud entry forced her eyes to meet his in the reflection.

She was still dressed in her sleeping gown, a sheer shade of pearl that hugged against her figure. Daemon roved his eyes over her by instinct, hungrily drinking in the sight of her whilst he could. Saenyra was not blind to his devouring stare, clearing her throat despite her skin flushing under his heated gaze - "Uncle, can I help you?"

Daemon's eyes met hers, and the desire that pooled in them began to wane as he pulled himself together into the semblance of a gentleman.

"Saenyra," there it was again, her name passing through his soft lips with a gentle caress, "I have something for you."

She raised a brow in question, turning to look over her shoulder at him instead, "and what would that be?"

Daemon did not speak further, he walked closer towards her before stopping at the foot of her bed. He sat cautiously, waiting to see if she would object and send him away, but the girl was much too curious to do such a thing.

He beckoned her forward, and she hesitated for a moment.

"Come."

His voice was firm, as though he knew she would obey without question, and as she stumbled to her feet, she had the fleeting realisation that she would do anything Daemon had asked. She would follow him to the ends of the world and more, if he so desired.

She stood in front of him, and still she felt so small despite the fact that he had to look up to her. Her hands fiddled with the ends of her gown, which brushed against her thighs lightly - the idea she was so exposed in front of her uncle sent a shiver down her spine.

Daemon forced himself to keep his eyes upon hers, to not disrespect his darling niece when she had so politely adhered to his wishes despite the burning temptation to drink in the sight of her bare legs only a hairs-breadth away.

If he leaned forward, he was sure he could run his lips against her bare skin, and his body heated at the thought of her trembling under his touch.

He shook himself from his thoughts, looking upon Saenyra with adoring eyes as one of his hands took hers. He tugged her gently, tempted to pull her onto his lap but knowing it was a move much too daring.

Instead, she fell neatly onto her knees between his parted legs, and Daemon had to hold back a groan. She eyed him with such trust, full of so much naivety and innocence he found himself intoxicated with the idea of corrupting her and taking her as his own.

But he couldn't.

Shouldn't.

"I have a gift for you."

His words were a gasped whisper, spoken only between their shared breath that she had almost missed it, becoming so distracted by his warmth - by his dragon fire.

She blinked slowly, as though she was confused, "for me?"

He smiled at her, kindly. Something so unlike Daemon that even he was struck with the oddity of their circumstances. Still, he nodded.

She frowned, "why?"

His head tilted in sympathy to see his niece so surprised by such an act - "why not? Anything for my favourite niece."

Her eyes widened in surprise, "I'm your favourite?"

He grinned, "who else could it possibly be?"

Her head became down-turned, "everyone knows you love Rhaenyra more."

Her words struck a cord in his heart, is that what she truly believed? "And yet it is you I brought a gift for."

She looked back up at him, her face dead-pan as she spoke, "that is because you already brought her one. This is probably something gifted out of guilt."

She was close to the truth, but not entirely. This was a gift out of guilt for his wreckless thoughts and violent desires, but it was also a token of his devotion. Not that his dear niece needed to know.

He shook his head in turn, "this is so much more."

His hand reached into the pocket of his chest, nimble fingers pulling out the jewel he held so close to his heart as he waited for this moment. Her lips parted at the sight of it, and Daemon was sure he saw unshed tears pool within her eyes.

"That's for me?"

"Just for you."

Her eyes flickered to meet his disbelief, painting her expression - "Daemon," she spoke his name as though it was natural to her, and it sang with melodic delight causing desire to curl in his chest and hum contentedly. "Daemon," she repeated, so sweetly and softly, "I can't accept this."

"Yes you can."

"It is too much. It would not be fair to accept such a prize with nothing given in return."

Mischief raided through his heart as though it was a second nature, it clashed with desire and became pronounced - "then take it in exchange for another promise. A bigger one," his voice dipped, lowering into a whisper, "a dangerous one."

Saenyra didn't let her gaze fall from his, she knew she should deny him and his gift. She should send him from her chambers and pretend nothing had happened, but to have him so close and to see him act so daring, to challenge her so openly - it sparked a burning fire within her, setting her dragon alight - "so, what is it that you want?"

Her words felt like an echo of the ones she had said to him only days ago.

"I guess you shall have to wait and see."

She couldn't help the shy smile that slipped across her face at his echoing words, nor the heated flush that painted her cheeks as she felt him take her hand and slip the ring onto her left hand. It sat snugly on the finger where her future bethrothed's ring would have sat. And a small part of Saenyra, the one so selfish and greedy, knew no other man would have been able to produce a perfect fit for her apart from Daemon.

Saenyra couldn't pull her eyes away from his, she watched as his eyes darkened under her curious gaze. His own glanced towards her lips that she bit anxiously, and a thumb came to brush across it softly as he pulled it out before she could abuse it further.

His thumb sat on the bed of her lip, and he kept her gaze with a new ferocity. She glanced to his now, watching how he wetted his lips under her watchful gaze as his head grew heady with desire.

A knock on the door, loud and harsh, startled her from his grasp. His hand was still outstretched towards her, and his eyes never left her, even as she stood and brushed the gown straight.

Ser Harwin entered the room, a curious gaze passed between the unusual pair, before he focused upon the simmering figure of Daemon Targaryen- "my Prince, the King calls for you. The tourney is to begin."

Daemon lets out a frustrated sigh as he pulls himself to his feet, he walks towards Saenyra and pulls her focus back onto him. He holds the hand bejewelled with a piece of him and presses a longing kiss upon her knuckles - "I hope to see you on the grounds, Saenyra."

She did not get a chance to reply. He turned on his feet and walked out her chambers - not without sharing a sharp glare with Ser Harwin Strong.

After he had left, Saenyra shared a nervous smile with Ser Harwin before he prompted her to get ready as he would send the handmaids to help her. She nodded in agreement, returning to her dresser to brush through her hair, but throughout it all, she was unable to tear away her gaze from the fine ring that adorned her hand.

A flutter sang within her chest, and a traiterous smile and bubbling laugh escaped her as she thought of Daemon's glimmering eyes and bright smile.

***

Daemon had been knocked onto the grounds by Ser Criston Cole, the man was skilled in tourneys but Daemon was better - more experienced.

He launched from the grounds, demanding his sword before slashing and swinging against Criston's flail. He sent a frenzied attack that was oragnised yet doused with the fire of unbridled rage.

He admired the man's strength and his stubbornness, but Daemon was not one to lose.

He had knocked Criston to the ground, Daemon's shield had been shattered to splinters, but he swung his sword with ease, his golden pommel a shining beacon for the girl who owned the original piece.

He turned towards the audience, towards her - cheering and celebrating. He searched for the missing part of his sword in the victorious cries of the Court, in their waving arms and broad smiles. His sword usually felt light in his hand, as though it was an extension of him, but the longer he struggled to seek her out, the heavier it felt.

She had left the tourney before he had even succeeded, she had not waited to celebrate his victory, she had not shared a parting goodbye or stayed for a boisterous celebration.

And with her, she had taken her favour.

Daemon had let his guard down, and Criston had taken advantage of his wavering heart and beat him to the ground whilst his back was turned - the act of a coward, but the rise of a victor.

Daemon yielded.

His eyes closed in frustration as his mind flooded with flashes of her once more - why had she left?

***

Within the walls of the Keep, Queen Aemma's cries sounded loudly. Saenyra had wanted to comfort her mother, but they tore her apart before she could reach her.

They let her mother cry and scream and beg until her last dying breath. And the babe followed shortly after.

Perhaps her mother did not care for her as much as she did Rhaenyra, but Aemma was her mother.

Perhaps the babe would have preferred his eldest sister, the dragon-rider, to his other sister, the timid. But Baelon was her brother.

She had gained the affection of her uncle, but lost her mother and her brother as consequence.

Saenyra felt as though her body revolted in the shadows of a dark and humourous curse, one that took and took and gave so little.

Saenyra stared at the ring Daemon placed upon her finger, her eyes were blank and her face was streaked with tears, her breaths were coming out short and panicked and she tried her best to avoid her mother's gasping breaths, her pleas for a daughter who was absent and not the one who was present, her last tear and her father's wails.

She stared at the ring, and a piece of her - the growing envious beast within - wished she had never accepted the token, believing if she did not, she would still have the half-love of a mother and the possible love of a brother, in place of a displaced infatuation of an uncle.

She wanted Daemon, but she was not sure how.

She wanted Daemon, but she wanted her mother more.

I honestly loved writing this chapter, it was like the words just flowed. I really do hope you guys like it! Please comment, like, and reblog! Every single one is so greatly appreciated <33

I have so many ideas for the next few chapters, I can't wait!!

Taglist: @marihoneywk @ahristata @gracielikegrapes @luanasrta @pet1t3

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen fluff #daemon targaryen angst #hotd x oc #hotd x reader #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon

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english-history-trip · 2 years ago

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I'm gonna do it. I'm literally gonna pit bad bitches against each other.

Most Girlboss™ moments:

Matilda: Fought her cousin Stephen for the throne for fifteen years; escaped imprisonment by dressing in white to blend in with the snow, later imprisoning Stephen himself

Eleanor: Left her husband, the king of France, for being too weak [citation needed] to marry the future King of England, a man eleven years her junior, later rebels against him for being too weak [citation needed]

Isabella: Forcing her husband, Edward II, to abdicate for putting his boyfriends in positions of power, so that she could put HER boyfriend in a position of power

Margaret: Defended her husband's throne personally when he was too mentally ill to do it himself, commanding armies in the Wars of the Roses

Katherine: Acted as Regent for Henry VIII, overseeing a war with Scotland that ended with the death of their king; refused to relinquish her title of queen until her death

Anne: Refused to become the mistress of Henry VIII, holding out to be his queen instead, precipitating and influencing the Protestant Reformation

Mary: Won a rebellion after being excluded from the line of succession, becoming the first English queen regnant to successfully hold the throne

Elizabeth: Survived bastardry and imprisonment to ascend the throne; refused to marry, maintaining absolute agency amd control over a bountiful forty+ year reign

#my icon gives my choice away a bit #but if you say Elizabeth it's hard to argue #note that it's not best or nicest or most successful queen #it is Most Girlboss™#tudors #plantagenets #badass ladies

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nobodysuspectsthebutterfly · 6 months ago

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Was trying to think of another time after "Blood & Cheese" when Jaehaera Targaryen had a role in the story until her child marriage to her cousin to end the conflict?

Sure, when she's helped to escape during the Fall of King's Landing, when Larys got Aegon II and his surviving kids out of the Red Keep and the city via the secret passages. (A small role, but thankfully not as tragic as her brother Maelor's.) Though Jaehaera was one of those targeted by Rhaenyra and her "knights inquisitor" bounty hunters, the Kingsguard Ser Willis Fell got her to Storm's End safely.

She was at Storm's End for about a year and a half, while Rhaenyra ruled in KL and also after Aegon and the greens retook the city. While the council debated what to do with their hostage Aegon the Younger, including the option of marrying him to Jaehaera, she was still with the Baratheons. After Aegon II's death and after the peace agreements, Jaehaera was escorted back to KL by Lady Elenda Baratheon's father and three of the Four Storms, and of course Willis Fell. (Who became Aegon III's Lord Commander since, uh, he and a rookie were the only Kingsguards left...) And then Jaehaera and Aegon married.

Now, if you're asking if they'll do more with her in the show, since Maelor doesn't exist... 🤷‍♀️ your guess is as good as mine.

#sunjournal941 #my inbox barely open 2 weeks and i'm getting wiki questions again lol #asoiaf #jaehaera targaryen #aegon iii targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #larys strong #maelor targaryen #willis fell #storm's end #house baratheon #the fall of king's landing #fire and blood #valyrianscrolls

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propheticbride · 4 months ago

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𐙚🧸ྀི masterlist ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

mostly dark fics/smutty stuffs. multi-fandom

⤷ pls also request stuff you wanna see! give me characters to write for <3

HOTD ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

୨ৎ Lamb to Slaughter Series (aegon x aemond x sister!reader)

୨ৎ Bastards and Dragons Series (aemond x rhaenyra's daughter!reader)

୨ৎ All for Love (alicent x rhaenyra's daughter!reader)

The Last of Us ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

୨ৎ Abducted (raider!joel x captive!reader)

୨ৎ The Bounty Hunter and The Raider (raider!joel x reader x darkish!arthur morgan) i ii iii

Marvel ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

୨ৎ Spoiled Rotten (wanda maximoff x reader)

୨ৎ Smile for the Camera (peter x steve x natasha x reader)

Outer Banks ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ

୨ৎ Down on Your Knees Before the King (dark!rafe cameron x reader)

୨ৎ Slut (dark!rafe cameron x reader)

#masterlist #:p

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clawdmg · 1 month ago

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✿ . APPLICATION / WRITING SAMPLE

𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐔𝐏𝐎𝐍 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐒 a little scruffy creature —— with equally scruffy powder-pink hair —— who'd periodically pop her head out from the safety of her father's tall legs. bright, inquisitive eyes the shape of almonds and the hue of seaglass gleamed in awe of the vast world surrounding her. most striking of all were the twitching, real calico ears crowned atop her head.

this was diona kätzlein. she's very important.

when she was younger, she seldom visited the moon city, apart from when her father caught big game that day and took her to the market to celebrate. such fond memories warmed her stomach. the mora in his calloused fingers would sparkle like gemstones as he placed them one by one in his daughter's tiny hands. he would then gently encourage her as she reluctantly approached good hunter and placed an order like an adult. they'd spend the afternoon feasting on chicken skewers, grilled fish, and fruit juice together until their bellies swelled full enough to burst.

but then calico ears would twitch, alerting the girl of hushed whispers drifting over the market square. she'd glance to find eyes pinned 'pon her, mouths open wide in wonderment. she'd try to blend into the chair, sinking lower and flattening her ears against her skull as her cheeks dyed red. as always, her hero of a father would come to her aid, ruffling her hair till she scoffed indignantly.

❝ let them stare, ❞ he'd say between another bite of fish. ❝ you and me? we're hunters, kings, conquerors of the wild. people like us aren't meant to shy away in a corner. didn't you say you wanted to be a hunter, just like your daddy? ❞

❝ of course i do! ❞ with a shout, fists pound the table, eyes gleaming with determination. ❝ i want to —— no, i will —— put together an unrivaled hunting team. we'll travel across the region and won't come back until we've caught the largest bounty you've ever seen. just you wait, dad, it'll be for the history books! ❞ realizing the scene she was creating, the righteous fire in her voice fades to a softer tone, ❝ . . . because then you'll be swimming in mora. you won't have to worry about working ever again. ❞

❝ atta girl, ❞ her father chuckles, reaching over to pet her head once again, but she swats his hand away with an amused but annoyed huff. he laughs again, ❝ well, aren't we just spirited today? i'm looking forward to it, but you should know it'll be a long time before you're ready to take on the family legacy. ❞

❝ what!? but i'm already plenty prepared! ❞ to prove it, the calico extends her arm over the table. ❝ c'mon, wrestle me. ❞

❝ ohoho? think you're strong enough to take on your old man? ❞

❝ i know i am! ❞

II.

diona giggles absentmindedly as she ties back her hair, recalling how draff used to always let her win their wrestling matches. she threw a tantrum when she first discovered it, but now she thinks it's astonishing how long the jig lasted —— what a lousy actor he was!

hands rest on her head. she doesn't remember when he last ruffled her hair.

III.

for a young mondstater, especially for one less acquainted with the outside world like diona, learning how the other archons reign over their people can be quite the culture shock.

indeed, it made some sense for morax —— ah, it's awkward to say this about a god, but bless his soul, she hopes he's resting in peace —— to have descended from the heavenly skies once a year to lead his people. but then her thoughts drift to kirara, the two-tailed inazuman courier, who she was told has delivered parcels to the almighty shogun herself. she often rolls the idea around in her head like a pearl, imagining what it must be like to witness a deity in person and speak with them as you would any other person.

quite frankly, it feels strange, and she doesn't like it.

while neither the most devout nor the least pious, diona's connection to the god of freedom was precious all the same. when she snuggles into her favorite spot 'pon the giant oak in windrise, bathing in warm sunlight, she understands barbatos' love does not manifest in grand spectacles nor glorious feats, but rather the gentle breeze caressing her cheeks. like a cherished tune murmured beneath one's breath, it is a love faint, comforting and, most importantly, hers.

IV.

❝ i'm. . . archons, it sounds so stupid now that i'm saying it aloud. i'm mad at someone. like, really, really mad. ❞

❝ language, my dear. ❞ a gentle breeze swept through the little garden, rippling through white tablecloth where sister grace and her old friend's daughter were seated, stirring the shimmering amber liquid in their cups. the calico's plush ears twitched in displeasure, but she did not pounce right away, instead narrowing her eyes as the nun lifted the teacup to her lips.

❝ even worse, i've been mad at d—— uh, my friend for what feels like forever now. i can feel it driving me crazy. he's driving me crazy. ❞ diona frantically gestured to her tail, the fur standing on end. ❝ just talking about it now has me riled up! give it to me straight, grace, will i be punished for this? ❞

rather than reply, sister grace tilted her head curiously, taking in the child's expression. pink, fluffy eyebrows furrowed the longer she studied the young girl; diona was never the patient type. ❝ well? ❞

❝ why, my dear, ❞ sister grace finally said, setting down her cup and folding her hands in her lap, ❝ would lord barbatos punish you for this? ❞

a groan of frustration. ❝ it feels —— i don't know —— wrong? it's a heavy feeling in my stomach, like swallowing a pile of rocks. my kätzlein intuition is screaming something bad is about to happen! ❞

despite the calico's obvious distress, sister grace simply traced the rim of her teacup with a neatly manicured nail, humming, ❝ i don't think you'll be punished, diona. ❞

❝ and how do you know that? ❞ she scoffed.

sister grace smiled, pointed to her veil, then the remainder of the habit, and finally to the anemo archon statue in the distance. ❝ because i know enough about lord barbatos to know he would never punish his children. ❞ she paused before adding, ❝ i was concerned at first when you came to me seeking repentance, but dear, i am relieved to inform you that you have not confessed to any sin. feeling slighted is a fact of a life, i'm afraid. ❞

❝ but i —— augh, it's not about being angry, ❞ diona huffed. feline eyes wandered to the skies, searching for the right words amongst the white clouds dotting the skies. ❝ you don't have to tell me that it's okay to feel angry. i know damn well —— ❞

❝ language. ❞

❝ darn well, ❞ she grumbled under her breath. ❝ that it's fine. in fact, i could give you a long, long list of unruly drunks who'd i'd give anything to turn into my personal scratching posts. i don't feel a lick of guilt for hating any of them! but when it comes to my friend. . . ❞

❝ you don't want to hate him, ❞ grace's sister nodded, ❝ but it's nearly impossible because you think he deserves it. ❞

❝ exactly! ❞ diona exclaimed, clapping her hands together. the elation is fleeting, however, as she then frowned, muttering, ❝ but it's not his fault he acts like that. he doesn't deserve to be hated. it's the evil alcohol infecting his mind and feeding him those horrible thoughts. i'm the one who isn't working hard enough. ❞

❝ diona. ❞ calico ears perked up as she watched the nun set her teacup carefully back onto the saucer. the patient's smile vanished into lips pulled taut. ❝ indulge me for a second, will you? ❞

diona's brow furrowed once more but slowly nodded.

❝ lord barbatos blessed me with the chance to take care of many children. wonderful children. i know sometimes draff isn't always —— ❞ sister grace's eyes flickered to diona's own, gauging her reaction before continuing on, ❝ —— present, so i wouldn't mind taking care of you in his stead. there'd be warm meals every day and a warm bed every night, and i'd promise a happy, prosperous life. ❞

her lips pulled tighter as diona fidgeted uncomfortable in her seat. where was she going with this? ❝ but i know you'd never want to part from your father. you love him dearly, don't you? ❞

the calico's response was lightning-quick: ❝ of course i do! more than anything else in the world! ❞

❝ i thought so, ❞ sister grace nodded. it was as if a magic spell cast over her had faded in an instant. diona had always been a perceptive girl, but now she could see the dark circles beneath steel blue eyes, how her pale skin seemed to sag even further after hours sitting in the sun. was she always so tired? ❝ i want to ask one more thing: does he make you happy? ❞

❝ pfft, what type of question is that? of course he. . . ❞ diona began, but the words died in her mouth as she saw sister grace's face, which suddenly bore a wry, melancholy smile.

( she loves him. of course she does —— it's natural to love your father. she shouldn't be angry whenever happy families run around the market square, flashing mora and feasting on sunsettias. it shouldn't devour her insides when she discovers draff dead against the side of angel share and has to alert a guard to accompany the two of them home. the enemy is the wine, not draff. she needs to say that. )

she finished weakly, ❝ . . . he makes me happy. every single day. sure, he may not always be at home, but only because we both work in the morning. he still puts in the effort to make time for me. he's my best friend and i'm his. we love eachother. ❞

( it's not a lie. its not. he is trying, he does make time for her, he tells her all the time he loves her. why does it sound so unconvincing even to her own ears? )

❝ i see. ❞ another breeze blew through the gardens as the enormous church bells rang, signaling the end of prayer hour and afternoon tea. the air smelled softly of honeysuckle and fresh dew as the two ladies cleaned up, dumping the remaining cold tea into a nearby sink and gathering their belonging. bidding the sister goodbye, diona was the first out the gate, racing down the curving dirt path toward home, hair flying behind her. all the way, she could feel the rocks in her gut slowing her down.

#‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ( IC. ) / * SPECIAL MENU #‎ ‎‎ ‎‎‎‎ ( SCRIBBLES. ) / * CAT'S CRADLE #tw parental neglect #tw alchohol mention #// see i think this sample is a great peek into what this blog will offer #// formatting that will be hell to work with when events rolls around #// and reasons i want to hit draff kätzlein with a car #// walter white yelling through the car TAKE CARE OF YOUR KID

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mesillusionssousecstasy · 6 months ago

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House of the Dragon 2x04: Quotes

"- Perhaps you might place a feather pillow over his head and speed along your inheritance? I can see why the Blackwoods and the Brackens did not fear to start a war beneath the nose of their liege lords. House Tully is a fish with no head. Remind me which of your countrymen claim to fight in the name of Aegon? Was it was it Bracken or Blackwood? (Daemon) - It was House Bracken that declared Green, Your Grace. (Simon Strong) - Who could remember. Summon the Blackwoods here. I require men of action to lead my host of Rivermen." (Daemon)

"- What do we know, my prince? (Jace) - If you ask me, it is little and less. (Ser Alfred) - Can Daemon hope to meet it with his own in time? (Lord Celtigar) - And if know the Riverlands, he has more disentangling ahead of him than the end of a Lyseni orgy."

"- "kingmaker." You are not fit for the white cloak." (Lord Darklyn) - This is a better death than a traitor deserves. (Ser Criston) - Yours will come in kind. (Lord Darklyn)

"- It's like to drive Daemon to madness as he attempts to make use of it. It is beyond his faculties. It is also penniless, as I happily control all of its gold." (Larys Strong)

"- Rhaenyra's supporters will believe what they wish. And so will Aegon's. The war will be fought, many will die... and the victor will eventually ascend the throne. The significance of Viserys's intentions died with him. (Alicent) - Yes, it did." (Larys)

"- Harrenhal's been cursed since its first stone was laid. Black Harren felled the grove of weirwood trees that grew on these lands. Heart trees, imbued with the spirits of those who lived long before he came. It's said their whispers can still be heard sometimes. (Alys) - A midwife's tale. (Daemon) - The very bed you sleep in was made from such a heart tree. Have you experienced anything... of note? (Alys) - You are a strange kind of woman. (Daemon) - I'm no woman at all. I'm a barn owl. Cursed to live in human form. So, you've come here after quarreling with your wife? (Alys) - What? (Daemon) - You arrive here alone to claim the castle and yet, send no ravens. Do you now plan to make your own claim? Perhaps to prove yourself to her. (Alys) - Do not try me with your insolence, witch. (Daemon) - It's a hard thing, I imagine, to give obeisance to one who replaced you as heir. And a woman too. A... girl child you bounced on your knee. I mean, does it please you that her legitimacy is contested? As you stand here... with a castle and a dragon... attempting to draw an army of men. Here. Drink this. You'll need your sleep if you're to win this place to your side." (Alys)

"- I once vied for Queen Rhaenyra's hand... before she wed Ser Laenor. I always liked her spirit. She had the true blood of the dragon." (Ser Willem Blackwood)

"- Perhaps Ser Criston will be able to procure more livestock through his campaign. (Grand Maester Orwyle) - Any coin we can save will be a welcome bounty." (Ser Tyland Lannister)

"- What are you doing here? (Aegon II) - Where are your father's books? (Alicent) - I ordered them removed. (Aegon II) - With no thought to the centuries of knowledge in those pages. (Alicent) - I removed them, I didn't burn them." (Aegon II)

"- Even my thoughts. (Aegon II) - What thoughts would you have? (Alicent) - Wh... I'm the king. (Aegon II) - Do you think simply wearing the crown imbues you with wisdom? Those men at your council table... earned their seats. I was my hope that once enthroned, you would honor the burden of your new duties, be silent, and strive to learn from more studied minds around you. In the hope that you might be half the king your father was. (Alicent) - Tread carefully. (Aegon II) - Or what? You'll hang me, as you did your ratcatchers? Or have me banished, as you did your Hand? I ruled in your father's absence throughout his long illness, and Otto Hightower was as cunning a statesman as ever lived. You should humbly be seeking our opinions and counsel. You have no idea the sacrifices that were made to put you on that throne. (Alicent) - What would you have me do, Mother? (Aegon) - Do simply what is needed of you: nothing." (Alicent)

"- Are you afraid, Ser? (Ser Criston) - Worse. I'm rational." (Ser Gwayne Hightower)

"- I inherited 80 years of peace from my father. Before I was to end it, I needed to know that there was no other path. And now I do. Only one choice remains to me: either I win my claim or die. We stand at the ready. These are those who have mistaken my caution for weakness. Let that be their undoing. I will go. (Rhaenyra) - My queen... You cannot. (Jace) - I will not lose dragons to war whilst I hide here in my castle. (Rhaenyra) - Our allies raise their banners for you, Mother. Yes, they do. If you die, all is lost. Send me. (Jace) - No. (Rhaenyra) - Could even raise the alarm. (Jace) - You lack the experience." (Rhaenyra) "- The horrors I have just l have just loosed cannot be for a crown alone." (Rhaenyra)

#hotd #hotd season 2 #hotd 2x04 #house of the dragon #house of the dragon 2x04 #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targeryan #alys rivers #hotd quotes #hotd 2x04 quotes

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uma1ra · 5 months ago

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The misguidance of the Jews with regard to ‘aqeedah

Praise be to Allah.

Undoubtedly the mistakes that the Jews made are more serious than those which the Christians made, although both of them have erred and are kaafirs. The Qur’aan mentions a number of the ways in which the Jews went astray.

1. Among them there is a group which claims that Allaah has a son, as Allaah says (interpretation of the meaning):

“And the Jews say: ‘Uzair (Ezra) is the son of Allaah, and the Christians say: Messiah is the son of Allaah. That is their saying with their mouths, resembling the saying of those who disbelieved aforetime. Allaah’s Curse be on them, how they are deluded away from the truth!”

[al-Tawbah 9:30]

2.They described Allaah as having shortcomings, and they killed the Prophets and Messengers of Allaah, as Allaah says (interpretation of the meaning):

[al-Maa’idah 5:64]

“Indeed, Allaah has heard the statement of those (Jews) who say: ‘Truly, Allaah is poor and we are rich!’ We shall record what they have said and their killing of the Prophets unjustly, and We shall say: ‘Taste you the torment of the burning (Fire).’”

[Aal ‘Imraan 3:181]

3.They distorted the word of Allaah, i.e., the Tawraat (Torah). Allaah says (interpretation of the meaning):

“So, because of their breach of their covenant, We cursed them and made their hearts grow hard. They change the words from their (right) places”

[al-Maa’idah 5:13]

“Then woe to those who write the Book with their own hands and then say, “This is from Allaah,” to purchase with it a little price! Woe to them for what their hands have written and woe to them for that they earn thereby”

[al-Baqarah 2:79]

4.They deserved the curse of Allaah, because of what Allaah has said about them. Allaah says

“Those among the Children of Israel who disbelieved were cursed by the tongue of Dawood (David) and ‘Eesa (Jesus), son of Maryam (Mary). That was because they disobeyed (Allaah and the Messengers) and were ever transgressing beyond bounds.

They used not to forbid one another from Al-Munkar (wrong, evildoing, sins, polytheism, disbelief) which they committed. Vile indeed was what they used to do”

[al-Maa’idah 5:78-79]

The lies that they have fabricated against their Prophets are many, such as the following:

1.The Jews claimed that the Prophet of Allaah Sulayman (Solomon) was an apostate and that he worshipped idols, as mentioned in I Kings 11:5.

2.The Jews claimed that Loot (Lot) – peace be upon him – drank wine and committed incest with his two daughters, as mentioned in Genesis 19:30ff.

3.The Jews claimed that the Prophet of Allaah Ya’qoob (Jacob) committed theft, as mentioned in Genesis 31:12.

4.The Jews claim that the Prophet of Allaah Dawood (David) committed adultery, as a result of which Sulaymaan (Solomon) was born to him, as mentioned in II Samuel 11:4.

-- and so on, may Allaah curse them and put them to shame.

Allaah and His Messenger cursed them in numerous places in the Qur’aan and Sunnah because of their shameless actions. For example, Allaah says (interpretation of the meanings):

“And they say, ‘Our hearts are wrapped (i.e. do not hear or understand Allaah’s Word).’ Nay, Allaah has cursed them for their disbelief, so little is that which they believe.

And when there came to them (the Jews), a Book (this Qur’aan) from Allaah confirming what is with them [the Tawraat (Torah) and the Injeel (Gospel)], although aforetime they had invoked Allaah (for coming of Muhammad) in order to gain victory over those who disbelieved, then when there came to them that which they had recognized, they disbelieved in it. So let the Curse of Allaah be on the disbelievers”

[al-Baqarah 2:88-89]

“Among those who are Jews, there are some who displace words from (their) right places and say: ‘We hear your word (O Muhammad) and disobey,’ and ‘Hear and let you (O Muhammad) hear nothing.’ And Raa‘ina [in Arabic, this means‘Be careful, listen to us, and we listen to you’, whereas in Hebrew, it means ‘an insult’] with a twist of their tongues and as a mockery of the religion (Islam). And if only they had said: ‘We hear and obey’, and ‘Do make us understand,’ it would have been better for them, and more proper; but Allaah has cursed them for their disbelief, so they believe not except a few.

O you who have been given the Scripture (Jews and Christians)! Believe in what We have revealed (to Muhammad) confirming what is (already) with you, before We efface faces (by making them like the back of necks; without nose, mouth and eyes) and turn them hindwards, or curse them as We cursed the Sabbath-breakers. And the Commandment of Allaah is always executed.”

[al-Nisaa’ 4:46-47]

“So, because of their breach of their covenant, We cursed them and made their hearts grow hard. They change the words from their (right) places and have abandoned a good part of the Message that was sent to them. And you will not cease to discover deceit in them, except a few of them”

[al-Maa’idah 5:13]

“Say (O Muhammad to the people of the Scripture): ‘Shall I inform you of something worse than that, regarding the recompense from Allaah: those (Jews) who incurred the Curse of Allaah and His Wrath, and those of whom (some) He transformed into monkeys and swines, and those who worshipped Taaghoot (false deities); such are worse in rank (on the Day of Resurrection in the Hell-fire), and far more astray from the Right Path (in the life of this world).”

[al-Maa’idah 5:60]

“The Jews say: ‘Allaah’s Hand is tied up (i.e. He does not give and spend of His Bounty).’ Be their hands tied up and be they accursed for what they uttered. Nay, both His Hands are widely outstretched. He spends (of His Bounty) as He wills. Verily, the Revelation that has come to you from your Lord (Allaah) increases in most of them (their) obstinate rebellion and disbelief. We have put enmity and hatred amongst them till the Day of Resurrection. Every time they kindled the fire of war, Allaah extinguished it; and they (ever) strive to make mischief on the earth. And Allaah does not like the Mufsidoon (mischief-makers).

[al-Maa’idah 5:64]

And the Prophet (peace and blessings of Allaah be upon him) said:

“May Allaah curse the Jews, for they have taken the graves of their Prophets as places of worship.”

“May Allaah curse the Jews: fat was forbidden for them, but they melted it down and sold it,”

These two hadeeths are both narrated in Saheeh al-Bukhaari.

Ibn al-Qayyim (may Allaah have mercy on him) described them well when he said:

“The nation upon whom is the Divine wrath are the Jews, the people of lies, slander, betrayal, conspiracy and trickery, the killers of Prophets and consumers of ribaa (usury) and bribes. They have the most evil hearts of all nations, and the worst attitude. They are the farthest removed from (divine) Mercy and the closest to (divine) wrath. Their way is enmity and stirring up hatred. They represent the house of witchcraft, lies and trickery. They do not see anything wrong in rejecting and disbelieving in Prophets whom they did not like. With regard to a believer, they respect not the ties, either of kinship or of covenant [cf. Al-Tawbah 9:10]. They do not respect the rights of those who agree with them, or show any compassion towards them, nor do they show any justice or fairness to those who work with them. There is no safety or security for those who mix with them, and there is no sincerity towards those who use their services. The most evil of them is the one who is most intelligent, and the cleverest one among them is the one who cheats the most. The one who is good at heart – which it is unlikely to find among them – is not a Jew in any real sense. They are the most bad-tempered of people, with the gloomiest houses and the filthiest courtyards. They have very bad manners – their greeting is a curse, and meeting them is bad news. Their slogan is wrath and they are filled with hatred.”

(Hidaayat al-Hayaaraa, p. 8)

These are just a few drops from a flood of information. Whoever researches the matter will find out a great deal about their shameful actions and the forms that their kufr and deviation take. We ask Allaah to suppress them, humiliate them, put them to shame and defeat them, and to grant the Muslims victory over them sooner rather than later. May Allaah bless our Prophet Muhammad.

And Allaah knows best.

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