#She knew the Targaryens would never let a princess of their own blood out there and would pay to get you

[raven-dor]

Hi loves!!

I love your gwayne Hightower fics!

Can I have a request of gwayne x Targaryen reader (reader is rhaenyra’s young sis) where they are married for a while now then blood and cheese happened instead of jaeherys, one of their twins got killed 😔 and they’re both devastated

but still reader loves her sister (of course) and knows it’s not her fault

Thank you !! Sorry for any wrong grammars😅

are you satisfied?

In which gwayne hightower and his wife, rhaenyra targaryen’s sister, experience a great tragedy

PAIRING: gwayne hightower x targaryen!reader

WARNINGS: death, fighting, typical HOTD violence, like three swear words, 'betrayal'

WORD COUNT: 3.5k

🎶 : are you satisfied? - marina

AN: gwayne and the reader's children's names are Visenya and Velarion, and the reader is the rider of Silverwing

Gwayne always loved the fact that his wife’s violet eyes and bright white hair had transferred to their children. He thought his wife was far more comely than he, and he thanked the gods his children hadn’t received his looks. 

(Y/N made him swear to stop saying such things, that he was extremely handsome.) 

He smiled as his wife played hide and seek with their twins, pretending not to see their obvious hiding spots. She was an amazing mother, he told her as often as he could. His own mother had been cold, choosing court life over raising her children on more than one occasion. He had still loved her dearly, but it seemed, as he grew older, that that love was not returned. 

Over time, Gwayne had come to realize that his distaste for King’s Landing stemmed from his mother’s choices. When he had returned for the tourney celebrating the new heir, Prince Baelon, he found a reason to enjoy its high walls. Princess Y/N was a year younger than her sister, but it seemed as if she was much wiser and more deliberate in her decisions.

Because Y/N had loved King’s Landing, he had pretended to enjoy the place. He couldn’t stand to see the look of disappointment stretch across her beautiful face. 

So when Alicent sent a letter to Gwayne asking him to bring his family to King’s Landing, he couldn’t refuse. But he so wanted to. Y/N sensed his distaste immediately. She knew him too well, he would say.

His wife hadn’t wanted to return to King’s Landing either, her childhood home turned into that of a prison. Bringing their children, she argued, would put their whole family in danger. Gwayne had agreed, but how could he refuse the Dowager Queen? 

Y/N hadn’t supported Ageon’s claim, being very forthcoming with her husband when the topic arose. Gwayne remained stoic, never letting anyone know of his true opinion, not even his dear lady wife. If he had backed Rhaenyra, he reasoned with himself, his family would have been killed, and it wouldn’t have mattered that he was the Queen’s brother. If he told Y/N he supported his nephew, she would surely shun him. Which was almost as horrible as any punishment he could have received. 

Gwayne laughed as his son, Valerion, dashed across the room, hiding behind his father’s legs. The young boy looked up at his father, putting a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell her, Father.” 

Gwayne nodded, looking back to his wife, who was smirking. “Oh where, I wonder, is my little boy?” She looked over at the curtains, ripping it open. “He is such a clever boy, I am sure I will never find him.”

Valerion giggled, and Y/N whipped around, laughing. “What was that?” She looked to her husband. “Did you hear that, my love?” 

Gwayne shook his head, forcing himself to remain stoic. “I believe you are imagining things, my dear.” 

Valerion giggled again. “She’ll never find me.” 

Y/N practically bit her hand. “I keep hearing his voice…” She tiptoed over, jumping behind Gwayne and tickling their son. “I got you!” 

Visenya peeked her head out from under the bed. “Does that mean I win?” 

Gwayne let loose a loud laugh, gripping his stomach. “You are the champion, my dear.” He walked over, grabbing her from her hiding spot and spinning her around. “Bravo.” 

Y/N sighed, hugging Valerion tightly. Their son squirmed, pushing away from his mother. “Mummy please. I’m grown-” Y/N gasped, looking at her son with fake hurt in her eyes. 

“You are too old for embracing your mother now?” She sat him on the floor, pretending to cry. “You are six years old now, I should have known.” 

Valerion glared playfully at his mother. “Don’t cry, Mummy.” 

“I can’t help it.” She giggled. “Soon you’ll be gone and I will never see you again.” 

His eyes widened. “But I don’t want to leave!”

Y/N stopped ‘crying’ and looked down at their son with surprise. “Well, that is good news.” She picked him up, hugging him tightly once more. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind if I tucked you in then?” 

He shook his head. “Can you tell us a story?” 

Visenya nodded eagerly. “Please Mother.” 

Y/N sighed, like she was contemplating if she was going to tell them a story or not. “Well, if you insist…” 

Gwayne smiled, setting Visenya down. “Be good for your mother, you two.” He walked over, kissing Y/N on the cheek. “Don’t stay up too late, darling.” 

The twins looked repulsed, scrunching their noses. Valerion groaned.“Father…” 

He looked down, smiling warmly. “One day, your children will make the same noises of disgust at you and your wife, Valerion, and I will remind you of this day.” 

Valerion looked disgusted. “I will never marry. I will be free with my dragon, and we will fly across the seven kingdoms.” 

Y/N laughed, shaking her head. “If only it were that simple, my sweet boy.” She clapped her hands, ushering the twins out of the room. “Now, time for bed.” 

Visenya yelled. “And a story!” 

Y/N nodded, shutting the door behind her. “And a story.” 

The twins' eyes drooped, but Y/N continued the story, knowing that if she stopped, she would be scolded. “And then Rhaenyra and I boarded our dragons, flew to Dragonstone, and retrieved our brother’s egg from our Uncle.” She smirked. “Your grandfathers were furious.” 

Valerion whispered. “Do you miss your sister, Mother?” 

Y/N nodded, her eyes tearing up at the thought. “Everyday my boy.” She pushed his hair out of his eyes, kissing his forehead gently. “Just as you will miss yours one day.” 

Visenya laughed. “We will never be apart. I will make sure of it.” 

Y/N smiled. “Goodnight children.” She stood up, walking over to her daughter and kissing her forehead. “Sleep well.” 

She took one last look at the pair, almost laughing at the fact that they were already asleep. She blew out their candle, shutting the door gently behind her. She had gotten halfway back to her chambers when a child’s scream echoed through the halls. 

Her blood curdled, and she whipped around racing back towards their chambers. Pulling her dagger out of its sheath, she pushed their doors open, whispering. “Childre-” Her eyes widened, and she glared, gripping her dagger tighter. “Who are you?” 

Two men stood in front of her twin’s beds, rat traps over their shoulders. The taller one turned around and Y/n recognized him immediately as one of the City Watchmen. His eyes widened. “Your Highness.” 

She put on a brave face, but her heart was racing. “What are you doing Sergeant?” 

The man ignored her, hissing at his accomplice. “This is the wrong room. He wouldn’t want her chi-” 

The smaller man interrupted, gesturing back to the Princess. “It’s too late. She’s going to tell.” 

Y/N shook her head, whispering so that her children wouldn’t wake up. “I won’t. Just don’t hurt my children, and I swear I won’t.” 

The small man ignored her, lowering his dagger towards Valerion’s neck. The Sergeant hissed. “That’s not who he wanted.” Reaching his arm out, he pulled the ‘rat catcher’ away from the bed. The ‘rat catcher’ jumped, and his knife fell out of his hand, plunging into her son’s neck.

Y/N gasped, a hand covering her mouth. The room was silent, none of them moving. 

The Sergeant looked panicked. “Your Highness-” 

A tear fell, and she looked up at the pair, whispering. “You are going to pay for that.” 

She walked forward, raising her dagger and plunging it into the murderer’s neck before either of them had the chance to defend themselves. She later would say that it served them right, they carelessly murdered her son, and so she simply returned the favor.  

The Sergeant pushed her away, grabbing his dying accomplice and racing towards the tunnels. She screamed, falling to the floor. Visenya stirred, her eyes opening slowly. “Mummy? What-” 

Y/N wiped away her tears, ripping her daughter out of her bed. She shoved Visenya’s face into her neck, whispering soothingly. As soothingly as she could for just witnessing her son’s murder. ”Go back to sleep my love.” 

Visenya’s eyes fluttered. “What about-” 

“Shh, my dear.” Y/N felt her eyes well up. “Shh.” 

Tucking Visenya in on the couch in their shared chambers, Y/N stalked towards their bedroom, her heart beating against her chest. “Gwayne.” She hissed. He stayed asleep. Anger raced through her veins, how could he sleep through this? She shook him harshly, on the verge of yelling. “Wake up.” 

He grumbled, rolling over. “What is-” His eyes widened, throwing the covers off as he examined his wife. “You are drenched in blood.” 

“Gwayne…” She sobbed, falling to the ground as he watched helplessly. “He’s dead.” 

Gwayne felt worried, and sat beside his wife, rubbing circles into her back. “Who is dead, my love?” 

“Valerion.” She wailed, throwing herself into her arms as more tears streamed down her face. “Valerion!” 

Gwayne’s heart dropped. “What?” 

“They-” 

“Who?” He grabbed his wife’s arms, eyes piercing into hers. “Who?”

“I don’t know. Some rat catcher and a-” She sobbed again. “A City Watchman.” He stood and grabbed her hand, pulling her out of their room and back toward their children’s chambers. Y/N fought against her husband's hold, still violently sobbing. “No, Gwayne please do not make me go back.” 

He stopped, realizing that she had truly seen everything. “My love, we have to. We need-” He choked on a sob he hadn’t known was forming. “We need to be strong for a little longer.”

Without waiting for her response, he pushed the twins’ doors open, their son lying lifelessly in his bed. He let go of Y/N’s hand, racing over to Valerion’s side. He gently pulled the knife from his son’s chest, pushing his bright white hair out of his eyes. “My boy.” 

Y/N wailed once more. “Valerion, this isn’t funny, you’ve upset your mother.” His throat felt as if it was closing up. “Valerion, wake up right now.” He felt his son’s throat, finally accepting his death when he felt no pulse. He fell back, staring at the bed. “We need to notify someone.” 

“Who?” Y/N cried. “Alicent? My drunken half brother of a king?” 

“Anyone in the Keep, Y/N.” He stared at their son. “How did this happen?” 

She simply shrugged, climbing up off the floor. “I must leave.” 

His head whipped over, staring at his wife in shock. “You are leaving?” 

“I will be back, I swear to you.” 

“Where are you-” 

“Leave it!” She snapped, a rage in her eyes that Gwayne had never seen. He nodded, watching as she walked out of their children’s room and down the hall.

Dragonstone was quiet, Y/N noticed. Of course it was, night still covered its dark walls. She landed Silverwing on the hill above the castle, stalking toward the entrance. “I demand to see my sister.” 

The guard laughed. “And you are-” 

“Y/N.” Rhaenyra stepped out from the shadows. “What are you doing here?” 

“My son has been murdered.” She slapped a hand over her mouth, another sob breaking out. “He’s dead, Rhaenyra.” 

Rhaenyra ushered her sister inside, out of the watchful eyes of her family and advisors. Rhaenyra closed her chamber doors, and sat her sister down, kneeling in front of her. “What do you mean-” 

“My son has been murdered. That is what I mean.” She glared at the older woman. “Did you-” 

“Seven hells, Y/N. Of course not.” She took Y/N’s hands in hers. “Do you really think that I would order the death of a child, let alone my sweet nephew?” 

“I just-” Y/N sighed. “I had to make sure.” Taking one last look at her dear sister, she stood, nodding. “I will see myself out.” 

Rhaneyra watched as her sister glided across the room. Just as the door opened, she cried out. “I miss you.” 

Y/N smiled. “I miss you too.” She’d almost reached the exit of the castle when she felt eyes following her every step. “Iēdrosa hiding isse se shadows, nyke ūndegon. (Still hiding in the shadows, I see.)” 

He stepped out, his face taking in the sight of his ‘traitorous’ niece. “Iēdrosa married naejot se hightower orvorta, nyke ūndegon. (Still married to the Hightower cunt, I see.)” 

She held her head up high, glaring at her uncle. “I’ll have you know that cunt is a good man. A better man than you will ever be.” Guilt flashed across his face, but she continued. “I don’t appreciate your insinuation that I support the usurper that is my half brother, and if you repeat that mistake again, you will have more than my words attacking you.” She nodded, walking past him. “Goodbye, Daemon.” 

Visenya had been wailing for days. Wailing over the death of her brother, and wailing over the fact that neither of her parents could look at her without tearing up. The couple sat beside each other at dinner, scarcely eating or speaking. Alicent sighed. “It does your daughter no good if you die of hunger.” 

Y/N looked up from her plate, tilting her head, hoping she had just misheard. “What did you just-” 

Gwayne grabbed her hand tightly under the table, signaling to not pick a fight. “Quite right, sister.”

Alicent smiled. “We are very fortunate.” 

Y/N fought against her impulse to pull her dagger out and commit a massacre. “How so?” 

“That they had the children’s rooms confused.” 

Y/N squeezed her eyes shut. She must have been hallucinating. “Excuse me?” 

“I only meant it would have been quite catastrophic if the assassins had found Jaehaerys instead of Velarion.”

Y/N smiled, and she could tell it had unnerved Alicent. “Yes, because my son is much less important than the heir to the throne. Thank the gods it was Velarion instead of Jaehaerys.” 

Gwayne stilled, setting his silverware down. Alicent’s cheeks flushed. “I hope I did not upset you.” 

Y/N laughed, so loudly that the whole room stopped talking, staring at the woman drowning in her grief. “Of course not. You began upsetting me twenty years ago.” 

Aegon smiled drunkenly. “Sister-” 

“You are no brother of mine, Aegon. So do not start acting it because of this little spat.” She pushed her chair out, making an announcement. “We will be leaving at first light. This has been, by far, the worst encounter I have ever had with King’s Landing.” 

Gwayne raced after his wife, not even bothering to say goodbye to his family. “Y/N-” 

“I cannot believe you.”

“What?” 

“You just sat there, Gwayne.” She seethed, practically running down the halls. “Our son is dead, and you sat there and let your sister act as if it was a minor loss. An accident.” 

“My love-” 

“Don’t!” She snapped. “I am taking Visenya, and we are going to Dragonstone.” She stopped outside their chambers, whispering so that their guards would not hear. “I do not care where you go, but I do not wish to ever see your face again.” 

He sighed, walking into their room after her. “Y/N-”

“Gwayne, that is the end of our discussion-”

“No it is not!” He yelled. “I am grieving as well. You do not get to pretend I am not.” 

“Then show it!” She yelled back. “You have been silent for days. You do not defend me at dinner, you do not defend me at all. You sit there like you are dead yourself.” She scoffed. “You might as well be.” 

Gwayne was practically glowering. “Do not say things you do not mean, wife.” 

“I will say-” 

“Mummy?” The couple looked down, realizing they had just fought loudly in front of their daughter. Y/N crouched down, opening her arms. 

“Come here, my love.” 

Visenya faltered, and Gwayne watched as Y/N cracked, standing up. She barely spared a glance at Gwayne. “I will be sleeping in my own chambers tonight.” 

He shook his head. “No.”

She scoffed. “I didn’t realize you controlled me, my lord.” 

He widened his eyes, gesturing down to their daughter who was watching with wide watery eyes. “Y/N, do me this one kindness.” 

“Gwayne, I need to be alone.” She stepped back, walking towards her secret exit when his hand wrapped gently around her wrist, pulling her back. His breath hit her neck as he whispered. “Sleep in our bed. I will stand watch, and we will leave at first light for Dragonstone.” She turned around, her eyes wide. He looked determined, and in that moment, Y/N understood that he would do anything to keep them together. Her heart skipped as he bore his soul to hers, his voice heavy.  “I will not have my family thrown into chaos and ruin.” 

Her eyes were teary as she whispered. “Thank you.” 

He nodded. “Go to bed.” He turned back to their daughter, carrying her over to her makeshift bed. Visenya’s sweet voice could be heard whispering to her father. “Did I upset Mummy?” 

“No my dear.” He kissed her head gently. “Your mother is hurting, as am I. Never forget that we love you dearly.” He tucked her back into bed. “Sleep tight, little one.” 

It had been surprisingly easy to escape the Red Keep. Y/N gathered it was because they did not think anyone would want to leave, which made her laugh. Who would want to be held captive in such a place?

Gwayne never understood how Targaryen’s flew dragons like it was as simple as riding a horse. Being this high up horrified him, but his wife and daughter enjoyed it immensely. Visenya giggled as she reached out, grabbing a cloud with her bare hands. “Father, open your eyes!” 

Y/N laughed. “Your father is frightened, dear.” 

Gwayne scoffed. “I am not. I’m simply-” 

“Scared!” Visenya laughed. “I thought knights were supposed to be brave, Father.” 

Gwayne gasped, clutching his heart as he forced his eyes open. “Are you calling me a coward, young lady?” 

Y/N smiled, forgetting for a moment that their family had been torn apart only four days ago. “Hang on.” 

“Hang on?” Gwayne questioned. “Why-” 

Silverwing dove, and Gwayne felt the air leave his lungs, clutching onto his wife’s waist. “Seven Hells!” 

Y/N laughed, her hair flying in the wind. “Enjoy it, my love!” The great dragon landed roughly on the same hill she had visited days before. Helping down Visenya, she smirked as her husband clambered off of her dragon’s back. “Careful, Gwayne.” 

“I am-” His leg caught on the saddle, and he fell backwards, causing his two silver haired beauties to burst into tears. “Do not laugh.” 

“It is quite difficult.” Y/N’s violet eyes glittered in the sun. “Come down, we have much to do.” 

Y/N held Visenya close to her as they approached her sister and her family. Gwayne trailed behind the two, looking around the room skeptically. Rhaenyra sat tall on her throne. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit, sister?” 

Y/N bowed deeply. “Your Grace, we come to swear allegiance to you, and ask that you allow us to stay with you on Dragonstone.” 

Daemon laughed. “And why would we-” 

With one look, Rhaneyra shut Daemon. “That is not necessary, Y/N.” She stood up, embracing her sister tightly. The elder sister looked down, waving at the young girl. “Hello, little one.” 

Visenya smiled shyly, clinging to her mother’s form. Y/N laughed, whispering. “Visenya, this is your Aunt Rhaenyra. Say hello.” 

Rhaenyra laughed. “Hello, Visenya. You are the spitting image of your mother.” 

The young girl blushed, smiling. “Thank you.” 

“Mother, what is the meaning of-” A tall, dark-haired young man sauntered in. “Y/N!” He rushed over, hugging her tightly. “How-” 

“I was most tired of the 'hospitality' of King’s Landing.” She smirked. “If one could call it that." She stepped back, taking in her grown nephew. "My, you have grown. Last I saw you, you were half your height.” 

He scoffed, glaring playfully. “Yes, well…” 

Rhaenyra clapped her hands. “Let us show you to your rooms.” She put her arm through her sisters. “You must be exhausted.” 

“One moment.” Daemon’s voice rang through the throne room. “What about her traitorous husband?” 

“Daemon-” 

Y/N glared. “What did I tell you would happen if you said that again?” 

Daemon laughed. “I would like to see you-” 

Gwayne's auburn hair blocked her view of her uncle, standing in between the two. Y/N smiled. Standing in between two angry Targaryens was a recipe for death, and yet there her husband stood, stoic as ever.

“Please.” He turned to the King Consort. “I know that my family has done nothing but hurt yours…” He spared a look to his wife. “But you must understand that my love for your niece has overcome any loyalty I once had to my family.” 

“How can we be sure you will not betray-” 

Gwayne hissed. “They are the reason my son is dead. I will never forgive them.” 

Daemon nodded. “Very well.” 

Gwayne nodded back, turning to his wife. “Let us go rest my love.” He kissed her temple, following after the queen. “I believe we have earned it."

taglist: @beebeechaos

[thewritetofreespeech]

Here & Now

pairing: Aemond targaryen x Targaryen!reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: on the morning you were set to return to Dragonstone to reunite with your family, the Greens make their move to take the throne, and Aemond comes to you.

tags: heterosexual sex, fingering, loss of virginity, targaryen incest themes, tw: blood, tw: knives

words: 3.1K

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When you were a little girl, your mother used to read you stories. Ones about knights, fey creatures, and princesses locked in towers. You never liked the tower ones. You always asked why they just didn't jump out of the tower to get away.

Looking down at the courtyard from your window, you realized that maybe they had a long way down as you did and that's why they couldn't get away.

The door opened and you sprung from your seat to face your intruder. You weren’t sure who you were expecting, but it wasn’t Aemond. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you.” His voice was even, but years of being near each other told you that his undertones were that of someone who was ashamed. “Are you alright?”

“I am a prisoner in my own home, Aemond. What do you think?!” You don’t mean to scratch at him. You are sure this is none of his doing, but he was the only one here.

You felt the fool for choosing to stay with your great-aunt Rhaenys, not wanting her to be left alone; even fierce she-dragons needed someone to lean on. But this morning you were barred from leaving your chambers by gold cloaks. You demanded to know what was the meaning of this. Demanded to know what was going on. Demanded to speak to your grandfather. Yet no one would answer you.

“Our patriarch is dead.” You felt a stone sink into your stomach. Somehow, you knew this to be true. King Viserys was very ill. It was only a collection of days in the best circumstances. “They’re going to make Aegon king this afternoon.” You felt as though the stone, and your breakfast, was going to come back up.

“So you are going to usurp my mother’s claim?! Take her birthright away!”

“It’s not my doing.” Aemond snapped at you. Clearly tired of being scratched. “It’s my mothers.” You scoff. You both know that Alicent’s clumsy maneuverings are just the attempts of her father. The King’s Hand with the knife in his back.

“So I am to what, hm? Sit here quietly while you take away my family’s future until you throw me over the walls edge?”

“I doubt you would sit here quietly, and no one is going to throw you over a wall, or any other ledge. Not if I have a say in it.”

You laugh. Despite yourself. Aemond was always funny, if you paid attention to him.

So few ever did. A second son, of a second marriage, with a princess in line for the throne. He was as meaningless as sand to the beaches to most people, then avoided completely after he was maimed. You always felt bad for that. Thought it was unfair that Lucerys got off scot-free after he crippled one of their own. People called those who took blood from their family Kinslayers, but what of those that maim their members?

“So you will let me go?”

Aemond shrugged. “Probably.” It was likely the best answer he could give. This wasn’t his decision. He couldn’t honestly tell you either way. But he did know, “you cannot take your dragon though.”

You felt your heart freeze in your chest. As if your Targaryen blood rushed out of you at the thought of abandoning your dragon. “You would take Stormsheild from me?” Your voice quaked despite your efforts. “Why not just cut off my arm? My heart….”

Aemond rushed over to you as you began to sob. Everything crashing down around you, and the thought of losing your dragon too much to bear. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “It doesn’t have to be this way.” He whispered in your hair. “You can stay here. With me.”

You pull back from Aemond’s chest to look at him. Blinking away tears as you must not have heard him right. “What?”

“Stay here with me.” He repeated it. You had not misheard. “Stay with me and you can keep Stormshield and your home, and be back in line for the throne. As my queen.”

You step back from Aemond to look at him. “You would…have me forsake my own mother? Turn my back on her?”

“You were always meant to turn your back on her to be with me.” He clasped at your hand. Not pulling you close again but not letting you go. Aemond speaks of course of your engagement. You had been betrothed from a young age, much like Aegon & Helaena or any other noble child in the realm. King Viserys last ditch effort to bring the two sides of his family together, you assumed. It had not gone over well with Alicent or your mother. Your father threw a chair when his side was alone. But none of them could stand against the king and his decision, so the pact stood.

You had not been upset about it like the adults. You cared for Aemond. He had been sweet when you left him. You sent him ravens. He remembered your nameday and sent your candied treats in secret. And when you return, he had grown into a fine, if not jaded, man. Fierce, refined, handsome. What had been childhood friendship and fancy turned into a blooming love overnight. One you were excited to explore. But now your blooms were burning into ash.

“My mother won’t stand for this. My father will come.”

“I have no doubt he will try.” There was no way Daemon would let his truest daughter, his favorite, stay here without a fight. He wouldn’t be so brazen about his favoritism like his father, but even with his one-eye Aemond could tell that you were his favorite over his Velaryon vipers. If Rhaenyra took the throne, he would have broken their engagement the first chance he got. A second son nowhere near good enough for his Targaryen jewel. Now he had all the more reason to break it, as Aemond wasn’t stupid enough to think Rhaenyra & Daemon were going to give up the throne without a fight. But what if he didn’t have a choice?

“I want you to be my wife. Right here. Right now.”

You looked at Aemond in shock. Suddenly afraid. “You’re not going to—“I would never hurt you.” He seemed offended you would even suggest it. Understandable. “But this was how it was always meant to be. You and me. No matter what happens, no one can take that away from us if you agree to be mine. We can be together.”

Your head was swimming. Your heart was pounding. “L…Let me think…”

“There’s no time.” Aemond insisted. “Once the coronation starts, Aegon will be King and that will be the end of it.” They will be divided. Those for Rhaenyra. Those for his brother. And Aemond did not trust his brother or family not to ruin this for him. Just as Daemon would have her taken from him, his mother and family would do the same. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t bear to give up one more thing for Aegon’s happiness. “Say you’ll be mine. Say you will be my wife. Say you’ll stay here with me and we will be here together. Tell me that you want that.”

“I do.”

The words leave your mouth without you even realizing it. You had spent so long imagining a future with Aemond. He was your intended. He was your future. You loved him, but you also loved your mother & your family.

Aemond doesn’t recognize your distress though and swooped in to kiss you passionately. The two of you had kissed before. Brief, as children, to see what it was like. Then again before you left as a sort of parting gift. Then once final upon your return as a welcome home and back in his arms. It had never been like this before. Aemond, for all his hard edge, was gentle and shy with you. Now, however, he kissed you like a man who meant to consume you. Taking you into his body, instead of the other way around, so you could never leave him. When he broke away from you your vision swam. Righting itself after a few deep breaths but all you could see was Aemond.

“Undress.” You blink up at him in shock. “If we do this now, there’s nothing they can do.”

You realize Aemond wants not just your words but your chastity. As a sign of good faith. He wants to consummate your marriage before your vows. Cart before the horse. Everyone would have no choice but to accept your marriage now, or your side would risk the news that you were no longer a maiden and rumors Aemond was no more than a craven opportunist who would force himself of a captured princess.

You gulp. Feeling your tears bead up again in your eyes. This was not how you pictured your life with Aemond starting. This was not the dream you were meant to share. But dreams often fall short of reality.

For Aemond’s part, he also swallowed the lump in his throat and began to undress. Paying no mind to the habitual work of undoing his jerkin and belts to look at you. He hadn’t thought much on his marriage before your return. Save that he would do it and try his best. He would do his duty and have you give the realm more Targaryen blood to reign and treat you as honorably as he could. But on the few times he did think of his marriage, he would think of the wedding and your wedding night. How he would take his time with you. Appreciate you, the way you should be appreciated as a lady, as a Targaryen royal, and as his wife. But that was all gone. They will not have time for sweet words and sweet moments. That will have to come later now. Just another thing taken from him.

You feel embarrassed to be standing naked in from of Aemond. Your hands hopelessly trying to cover your modesty. Fretful glances around as if some septa in the shadows was going to jump out and cast shame on you. “Lie on the bed.” You do as you’re beckoned and lay down. Stiff. Ridged. Your hands balled into fists at your sides to keep them from flying up and covering you again.

Aemond watched all of this and did not look pleased. Still, he climbed onto the bed on top of you, and you try to sink further into the mattress to instinctually get away. “I will try to be gentle.” His words certainly were. You relax as a bit of the Aemond you knew came back into his voice and nuzzle against the hand on your cheek. “But this may hurt. It is not my intention. None of this…this wasn’t what I wanted.”

You know he doesn’t mean ‘this’ in general, but how this has come about. “I know.” You were both doing something neither of you wanted in order to get what you did want. What was love without sacrifice?

“It should only be this time. And I swear I will never hurt you again. Please, do not hate me.” You touch Aemond’s cheek in return. You could never hate him. Be cross with him. Snap and bite at him from time to time, but never hate him. He must know that.

He nuzzled into your palm as you did his and rested there for a moment with his eye closed. He then nodded, opened it, and his hand was no longer touching your cheek but the sacred spot between your legs.

You jump at the touch with a sharp hiss. Trying to crawl out from under Aemond but blocked by the pillows. He held you back. Shushing you as he continued his touching. “It’s only this time.” He reminded you. And you try to remain calm and still as he kept going.

Aemond needed no proof that you were a maiden. Your trust and faithfulness was all he needed to know that you would not break the arrangement between you; although he had not been so chaste, but he was a man. When he touched you, however, it was clear that no one had been there before him. Your entrance was tight around his finger. Nearly barring him out. He wanted to tell you to relax, but felt he had no place for it. ‘Yes, my love, relax. Don’t think about the fact that you are about to lose your chastity to a brute. Or that my family is usurping yours. Don’t think about the fact that this still may not work and you have thrown everything away for a hairbrained plan of a desperate man who just doesn’t want to be alone.’ Yes. Those were the sweet words every girl wanted to hear on her ‘wedding night’.

He removed his finger from her entrance, bringing it up to his mouth to lick two then pushing both back in. You whine. Feeling your entrance stretch to an uncomfortable level of accommodation. Your mother had been very forthcoming on what to expect from your wedding night, although she had been clear she wished it to be far in the future. She let you know that there would be pain. That there would be times that it felt like it wasn’t worth it. But it was your duty as a wife, and, with the right man, it could be quite enjoyable. You knew what she meant now as you felt your apex burn. When would the ‘quite enjoyable’ start?

By the third finger inside you, you had gnawed on your bottom lip so hard you were drawing blood. Aemond said nothing. Just watched you. He seemed terrified to do anything than what he was doing. Finally, his fingers came free of you and shifted above you. "You need to spread your legs." They had instinctively closed when he pulled from you and you blush as you do as he says. "Please do not hate me."

You had thought your apex burned when his fingers were inside you, but if that was the case then your whole pelvis was on fire when he pushed inside you. Your hands fly up to claw at Aemond's back as you let out a wordless scream when he split you & your maidenhead open. "Stop! Wait, wait! It hurts!"

"I know." His words are apologetic as he offers you a kiss on the cheek but does not pull out. "Just bear with it for me."

He stopped long enough to give you time to adjust. Try to relax. Anything. Then he pulled his cock out and slid it back in. Your teeth grit at the pain. It’s not as bad as you thought, after the initial shock. It does hurt, but to hear people talk about it it was the same as losing a limb. You fell off Stormsheild once when you were a little girl. Bruised something fierce from the fall. That hurt worse than this, but it was no less uncomfortable.

Aemond tried to take this as slow as he could for you. He knows this is not how a maiden expects to become a woman. Some hard fast thing to be done with and move on. But the clock was ticking. They had very little time left before the coronation and the ceremony started. It needed to be finished before then.

That’s what he told himself.

In truth, he was a lost novice again inside you. Your warmth. Your tightness. Just…you. This was not how he pictured you being bonded to him, but he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t still elated that you were beneath him and soon all his.

He could feel his climax building. Unable to hold it back any longer. Aemond reached blindly for the knife at the side of your bed, as no true Targaryen would ever go to sleep without a blade at their side, and sliced your hand open. You cry out finally. Having kept your jaw tight the whole time you were doing this in order to not scream and turn wild eyed toward Aemond to ask him what the hells he was doing, only to see him cutting his own hand. He threw the knife away to the side and linked your hands together. His eye turned to you. Holding you there for a moment before he kissed you deeply to fully seal your bond. A Valyrian bond.

With the pain redirected to your hand, you can finally feel Aemond inside you with some joy. It’s not pleasurable, but it’s not painful. Your head swam at the realization that he was inside you, he was kissing you, that he was all around you until suddenly Aemond’s hips stopped and you realized that there was more than just his cock inside you.

He let your lips go after that. Panting with you. Sweaty. Whole. You hiss sharply when Aemond pulled out of you. The pain returning to your center from your hand. Still bloody, sheets bloody, why did there have to be so much blood for this?

Aemond sat up and ripped a corner of the sheets into two clean strips. One for you and one for him. He wrapped your hand first and then his own, before he pulled you close to him on the ruined bedding. “Are you alright?”

You shrug against him. Your maidenhood was sore. Your hand was throbbing. Your mother was about to be tossed aside and you were still technically a prisoner in your childhood home. You weren’t sure how to answer that question.

“I will have to go. For the ceremony.” Aemond doesn’t want to talk about it, but he does have to go. Must show a united front for the kingdom. “I’ll come back later. To check on you.”

“Will I be allowed to leave?” You ask him. That question had still not been answered.

“After it’s over we’ll go talk to my mother and King Hand.” A name you both gave his grandfather as children to tease him, in secret of course. It wasn't nearly as funny as you remembered now. “You are under my protection now. I will keep you safe.”

Safe. How strange that word sounded now. You had felt safe with your parents. You had felt safe within these walls. You had felt safe with Aemond. But all of that had suddenly changed. What was 'safe' now?

Aemond dressed quickly, then came over to you again. Tentative, shy even, he came over to give you a brief peck on the lips. Like the ones you used to give as children. “I will come back.” He promised again. “Everything will be alright.”

Then he was gone. You were alone. You pulled your knees to your chest, despite the pain in doing so, and look out your window. Maybe the other princesses stayed in the tower because they had no choice too.

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1 | To See You Again

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY

WORD COUNT | 2k

Text Divider by @saradika

They had been running for three days now.

Slivers of moonlight pierced through the dense canopy above. The twisted and gnarled branches of trees, like skeletal fingers grasping for the Seven Heavens, cast their eerie shadows across the forest floor. The tangled roots snaked across the damp earth and moss clung to the ancient trunks like a dark shroud.

The air was heavy with the scent of damp soil and decaying leaves, mingling with the sweet aroma of wildflowers that dared to bloom amidst the darkness. Faint whispers seemed to echo through the tangled undergrowth, as if the very forest itself held secrets long forgotten.

As they ascended the hill, the terrain grew steeper, the path narrow and treacherous. Each step was a struggle against the relentless pull of gravity, the earth slick with dew beneath their feet. Aemond held onto her hand as tightly as she could - she hadn’t allowed him to touch her initially, having been in shock at being abducted from the arms of her betrothed - but there was only so much a defeated, tired princess could do on her own.

She panted from exertion. The blood on her face was dry now – he’d needed to hurt her to get her to comply. She looked at him with all the anger that he knew she was never capable of, and a forgotten corner of his mind yearned for an easier time when she’d held different feelings for him.

In an ideal world, there would have been no war. He could have married her, just as he’d promised in the protected darkness of the nights in hidden chambers and intimate correspondences. They could have been happy.

Though his thirst for vengeance was screaming at him, a small part of his mind wished for a quieter time; a time that would never come.

His family was dead, and he needed her to balance the scales. He owed Helaena that much. He owed Aegon that much. Mother, Daeron, Criston, sweet Jaehaerys, and Maelor - all his kith and kin. He had failed them all.

He would be damned to all Seven Hells before letting their deaths mean nothing.

At the hill's summit, the forest parted, revealing a precipice that loomed over the land below. The distant glimmer of moonlight danced upon the surface of a winding river, its waters black as night. He let go of her, and she fell to her knees, relishing the feeling of a flat surface and slower breaths as she bid her heart to slow down. He watched her ears perk up as she heard the crunch of his boots over the dry leaves, stalking towards her in that catlike stealth that he had taught himself to have.

He took her by surprise as he tightened his arm around her chest and grabbed her by the neck, making her body twitch in fear as she rose involuntarily. At the edge of the abyss, he turned her around to face him as he let the cold steel of his blade kiss her skin and travel over her frayed white dress from neck to navel.

How did we come to this?

She did not recognize the man in front of her.

He was the boy who had brought her books when her brothers teased her to the point of crying; who had kept her company in her grief of being a dragonless Targaryen; who had held her hand and promised that he would marry her; the one who had come rushing to her the night he claimed Vhagar, promising to take her on a ride.

He was the man who had taunted her and her brothers' parentage at a family supper; who had kissed her senseless in a lone passageway the very same night when he found out that Rhaenrya had no intention of letting him have her. He was the man who had killed sweet, mischievous Luke; the one whom she had left behind when she had been sent to the North; the one whom she had hoped would come and take her away, against all odds.

So many memories tied to him, inexplicably. And yet, she did not recognize the man in front of her.

As a boy, he had had such striking eyes - in color, but more so in the volatility of their regard. Always flitting about, looking for things to imbibe, to brand into his memory. His functional eye had grown different since she had last seen him - distant, devoid of the charming curiosity that would shine in his violet orb.

The eye of a war-worn murderer. He had probably brought her here because he wanted to kill her too.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” she whispered the words, almost uncertain. The coldness of his Valyrian steel dagger made goosebumps rise up on the planes of her skin, and yet, she surprisingly found that she was scared, not in the least.

He smirked and leaned in close to her, the leather strap of his eyepatch grazing her temple as she let the warmth of his breath bloom over her face. He raised the blade to her neck and teased her, being so bold as to let out a throaty, exhausted laugh that sounded more maniacal than anything else. She shut her eyes closed, hoping that if she could keep her world dark, she could pretend that this was all a nightmare.

She had often dreamt that he would take her away. She had hoped and hoped and hoped, and now that he was here, she couldn’t fathom how wrong she had been to wish for it.

Silly little fool.

“Sharp, sweet niece.”

His tone made her flinch. His voice was rough and predatory - so much so that she couldn’t tell if it was him or the situation itself that made her feel that way. “You’re supposed to be dead. Daemon….”

Her voice was lost in the air as he raised his eyebrow, a menacing smile in place as he pressed the blade into her skin - just enough to make a few blood red spots bloom. “I killed him. He thought he was better than me, the old fool. I stabbed him in his right eye, the very one that I lost. Vengeance, dear niece…” His thumb collected the first drop of blood that dripped from where he had made his mark, “... makes for the sweetest of spoils. And I intend to taste more of this victory…”

It happened on instinct, her reaching out to hold his wrist tight through his shirt. The irony of taking the hand of the man who wanted to hurt her and counting on him to not let her fall was not lost on her; but if she didn’t, she was sure she would faint.

“...With you.”

The last words confused her, having her mind scrabbling to piece the puzzle and figure out his intent. “Me?” She leaned her head back to breathe and put some space between her and his blade, but that only spurned him more as he pulled her to him by the back of her neck.

“Aegon, Helaena, Criston, Jaeherys, Maelor, mother…vengeance for them all. When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him, and then I’ll kill the little boy that you call a King. Take what is rightfully mine and avenge them.”

The Aemond she had known was too calculated, too weary to tell anyone anything at all. But this, this wasn’t her Aemond. This was a different man - a mad killer, a stranger; one that intended to use her in his rage-filled path to regicide and revenge.

When he comes for you, to save you… I’ll kill him. 

She could only think of one man who would come looking for her. Her betrothed, Cregan Stark - the same man who had shown her Northern hospitality and shared his home and hearth so she could be kept safe away from the bloodshed of the war.

And Aemond wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill them all and take the Iron Throne.

“Gods…”

She had always felt compelled to help during the war. She wasn’t a skilled warrior, nor was she a bold woman. Dainty little sweetheart, her mother used to call her. How can I manage to keep you safe and sound?

She had always wanted to help her mother - be a good daughter and play her part in helping her sit the Throne, as was her birthright. When she had been sent to the North as Cregan Stark’s betrothed, Rhaenyra Targaryen had told her that this was her duty, her contribution to the Blacks’ victory.

You will help me win by keeping my mind at ease about you, child, she had said. You will help me win by staying safe and bringing the Northerners’ allegiance to our cause. 

That had been her contribution, but it hadn’t been enough. Daemon, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, Rhaenys… they’re all dead. She had done what she could, and it was not enough.

And now, Aemond wanted to kill sweet Aegon. Her beloved brother, the little one who held the weight of the world on his shoulders. He would make a fine king, she knew - but not if Aemond was going to lure Cregan out to fight and make him vulnerable to attacks.

She’d be damned to all Seven Hells if she let him win.

He had been observing her, it seemed. As she let her thoughts sweep her away, he had taken to watching her, reminding himself of every inch of her. She raised her hand to his warm dry cheek, bony from what could have only been a lack of proper food. How long has he been staying here, amidst the trees?

“You don’t have to do this, uncle. Let me go now, and it’ll be like it never happened. There’s been enough bloodshed.”

She thought she imagined it, but she knew it was true when she felt his grip on the blade falter for just a moment. She made good on his momentary lapse and kicked his knee to fold under him with all her might. He fell, and she took hurried steps away from him as he grunted in pain.

Her skirts swirled as she turned just slightly, sneaking a peek off the edge of the hill. If she jumped, she would fall into the waters that ran below - but would that be enough? She’d have to die. She had to. She would not let him use her; she would not let him kill them.

This was her contribution to the war. Her deceased mother’s victory lay in her daughter’s ability to keep the rightful king alive. This was her chance, and she was not going to fail her. He stood up with panting breaths, and she looked him in the eye as boldly as she could, knowing very well that she might as well be living her last and final moments.

She had always wanted to fly - and if she wasn’t going to do it now, then when would she?

She closed her eyes and threw herself over the edge, seeing the sky become a fading memory as she made the steep drop. Halfway through, she opened her eyes and saw him leaning over the edge, panicked, watching her free-falling figure from the hilltop as she flew, flew, flew.

She fell into the water, making contact with sharp tree branches and thorns on the way down in her descent. The blood on her face and body mixed with the water that surrounded her, and blood-red ripples muddled her vision as she closed her eyes.

Water filled her nostrils, and her vision went dark in a matter of mere moments.

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Next Chapter

A/N: Got so inspired by the S2 poster, I managed to finish this damn thing hehe. This was a lot more fast paced than my usual writing style, and I'd love to hear what you guys think! I've been really out of touch with fic writing, and feedback is always welcome :)

SERIES MASTERLIST

[novaursa]

hello, may i please request some maegor the cruel x fem!martell reader? you know when aegon i receives that note from dorne? maybe it could be to arrange a marriage between maegor and martell!reader to end the war? and she's a badass who gets maegor wrapped adorns her finger in less than ten minutes?

No Meek Bride

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Maegor meets the princess that his father promised to him, and you are not what he expected.

- Pairing: martell!reader/Maegor I Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sun beat down mercilessly on Sunspear. Maegor Targaryen, mounted on his warhorse, eyed the golden sprawl of the Martell stronghold with the same cold scrutiny he gave every potential battlefield. He had not come here for war, though that was his preference. No, Aegon, his suddenly diplomatic father, had come to the conclusion that peace with Dorne would best be achieved through a marriage contract. And so, Maegor found himself betrothed to a Dornish princess.

You.

As his entourage approached the palace gates, Maegor's expression hardened. He knew little of you, save that you were Dornish, a princess, and supposedly beautiful in the way Dornish women often were—dark of hair and skin kissed by the sun. Maegor had his own opinions about beauty, none of which involved submission or docility, but he expected you to be meek, much like the Hightower girl his mother had once insisted he wed.

But then you stepped into the sunlight, and everything he had assumed about you scattered like the sands of Dorne.

You stood there, hands on your hips, chin lifted, your expression neither demure nor shy. No veil covered your face; no hesitation clouded your eyes. You stared up at him, not as a man to be feared, but as a man who would do well to remember whose lands he stood upon. Maegor raised an eyebrow.

You raised one back.

The Dornish retinue welcomed him in the Martell fashion, with wine and citrus-scented air. You walked beside him as he was led into the inner court, rattling off a list of what he assumed were idle pleasantries about Dorne’s beauty and history. Your voice was light, teasing. But there was something in your tone that held an edge—a sharpness that Maegor wasn’t sure if he wanted to parry or let pierce through his defenses.

"Your father must think very highly of me," you said as you entered a chamber filled with vibrant tapestries and low couches. "To offer up his most fearsome dragon in marriage. Or perhaps he just wanted to get rid of you?"

The jab was subtle, playful, but Maegor narrowed his eyes, half-expecting you to falter under the weight of his gaze. You didn’t. Instead, you smiled—a slow, confident curve of your lips that seemed to suggest you had no fear of him.

Odd. He had never encountered a woman so… infuriatingly self-assured. Where was the meekness? The quiet obedience he had been told to expect? You were no Hightower maiden.

And yet, as you continued talking, pointing out some tapestry or another that Maegor couldn’t care less about, he found himself… listening. More than that, he found himself watching the way your lips moved when you spoke, the way your eyes sparked with amusement every time you threw out another veiled barb. He could not recall the last time someone had dared to speak to him so freely, much less a woman he was meant to marry.

By the time the evening feast began, Maegor was seated at the head of the table with you beside him, laughing—laughing—at something one of your cousins had said. The sound caught him off guard, warm and inviting in a way that made his blood stir. He tried to ignore it.

But then you leaned in, close enough that he could feel the heat radiating from your skin.

"I expected you to be taller," you whispered, eyes glinting with amusement.

Maegor blinked, caught completely off guard. "I expected you to be more respectful."

"And I expected a dragon, not a man made of stone," you shot back, sipping your wine with an infuriatingly pleased look on your face.

He could not believe this. Was this to be his life now? To be challenged at every turn by a woman who clearly found great delight in besting him in conversation? The idea of returning to King’s Landing with you as his wife seemed more exhausting than fighting a hundred battles. Yet, there was something… thrilling about it, too.

The next few days passed in a blur of negotiations and formalities, but you were always there, always a step ahead of him in both words and actions. You challenged him, taunted him, and somehow, in the span of a week, Maegor found himself more drawn to you than he had ever been to any woman. He would never admit it, of course, but there were moments when he caught himself thinking about you when you were not in the room, wondering what clever remark you would make next.

The final straw came when, after another particularly heated exchange—this time about where you would live after the marriage—you sauntered away with a knowing smile, leaving Maegor standing in the middle of the courtyard with the distinct feeling that you had won.

He watched you go, the sway of your hips as you moved, the confidence in every step. His jaw clenched.

"She’s got you wrapped around her little finger," one of his men muttered under his breath, thinking Maegor couldn’t hear.

The man was wrong, of course. Maegor Targaryen bowed to no one, least of all a Dornish princess with a sharp tongue.

And yet, as you glanced back over your shoulder, catching his eye with that maddening smile, Maegor realized with a start that you had, indeed, wrapped him around your little finger.

And worse still… he didn’t entirely mind it.

Though gods help anyone who tried to make him admit it.

[blueberrypancakesworld]

You are ours - Greens

Greens x fem!reader (hostage)

characters : Aemond, Aegon ii, Helaena, Alicent, Criston

warning : hostage (capture), hurt/comfort, implied obsession, emotional, kiss, war, fear, implied death, smut (lightly implied), targaryen incest, f/f, m/f, no use of Y/n

Summary : Captured as a hostage before the escape of the blacks, the princess of the realm could do nothing but finally hope for rescue while the color green enveloped her more and more in emotions that went far beyond hate and love.

info : yes yes the second season is coming up in a few weeks and even if the war about the two teams breaks out on the internet, both teams will be played here. So have fun and a peaceful read :)

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ameond : The second prince of the realm, the prince after Daemon his uncle, the prince after his brother the king, the prince who was the sworn sword for his brother.

After the Blacks had retreated from King's Landing and Rhaenys had fled with her dragon, they had managed to lock a room so that she could not escape. ,,It seems your cousin has forgotten you,” came his words with a hint of scorn from his fine lips as he pushed aside the bar of the privacy screen and looked into the spacious room of his father's sister.

The former sole princess of the realm, handsome and beautiful, guarded the youngest of the three royal children at the time, only a few years younger than his uncle Daemon…and yet she surpassed everything in beauty. ,,Princess Rhaenys had to flee, I would have stopped her,” she said, giving him a warning look that they both knew would come to nothing as the violet of her eyes met his, his eyes flashing every time he saw her.

And he often did that the first few days they exchanged words, her knowing him rejected him, his teasing forcing her to react. He looked at her through the slit during the day and at night when she slept she could feel his gaze on her, fascination and ulterior motives.

Her nephew the prince, the son of her beloved brother king…and yet she had to thank him because it was apparently he who brought her out of her room one day. ,,A princess of the realm should not be left alone in her room,” he said and let her out, accepting her words of thanks with a grin before she moved forward through the castle, Ameond always behind her.

,,A hostage should always be watched, shouldn't she?” she asked as she walked with him into the garden, a place where she could finally feel the air, smell something different from the distress and finally see the sun with the sky, the sky where she once flew with her dragon Dreamfyre before it passed to Helaena…she had been passed over.

But these words amused Ameond even more she stood with her back to him but her eyes met violet again violet of lavender flowers. She did not escape him like a dragon guarding its blood relative and she would not get rid of him. She was almost at peace when she suddenly felt his hand on hers, not leather but skin on skin.

Moving around to yell at him to let her go, her eyes met a white rose and an expression that she didn't try to take over and control. He seemed honest. ,,A spirit of such beauty should be treated with gentleness or the dragon will come closer and closer and devour you, dear,” he replied and placed the rose behind her ear, his fingers running over the strands of her hair and she saw that sapphire flash again as she felt him kiss her.

She was no longer a hostage of the empire she was a hostage of his all this time she was a hostage of his senses…and now the dragon had devoured her the green had wrapped itself around her and never again would she see the black of her family.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aegon ii : The crown on his head heavy with burden, war and worry. A war was at the gates of his now owned city and he was the king proclaimed by his mother dowager queen and grandfather…for his father had not wanted him to inherit all he was a dream long extinguished.

He knew that, the queen knew that, his brother knew that, his sister's wife knew that…everyone in his family seemed to know it, she knew it too. Every time he ran away a few months ago, every time he drank since forever and every time he hurried around since he was a boy, he wanted to get away from this throne and the inheritance he knew was forced upon him at best, but now that he realized how quickly sides could tilt at his coronation, he knew it was time to take a sword, saddle Sunfyre and give orders.

,,A playing card we have the sister of the rough prince, mother figure of my half-sister and my aunt” he had heard his words as he sat in the small council with his family and they discussed the plan.

His aunt was the only one who had ever shown him kindness, who didn't see him as a nobody…who held on to him and never gave up on him until now.

The look of her fascination at his actions made him want to say, This is my family, this green blood, it's not me but he had only given her a quick glance before leaving her room. ,,She hardly knows anything about the strategies like my insects say…but other methods might help,” he heard Lary's voice and saw his hand tighten around the walking stick.

Aegon had such thoughts, knew what could be done, knew that feelings could be used. That he had once used her, that he should have always seen her kisses as an encouragement after a night of tears and pain…but he had always felt more and now…no, he would not let her go-not when he now had something worth protecting besides his family and his children.

,,I'll personally take care of our dear hostage, she knows how to answer to a king and I know how to deal with maidens,” he murmured and rose from the table, ending the meeting for himself and yet knowing that his family was still talking…especially ignoring the punishing look of Aemond who had known for a long time and unlike their common mother did not ignore it.

But Aegon didn't care what his brother thought, he was the king and for the first time he would use this power given to him to do something, something he himself decided to do and he would not be taken advantage of. ,,Seeing you so quiet without a kind smile makes me sad aunt,” he greeted her, came into her chambers and found her sitting by the fire.

He saw that she was still wearing her clothes, the dark black, the red or gold a distant memory of her brother, her niece and her former king. A fact that Aegon disliked, he was king now, she should wear his clothes not those of his no good vile father.

He came closer to her and sat down by the fireplace looking at her face the same light hair as his a touch more silver and the violet looking grayish in the light and yet she was still beautiful. ,,Sad? Aegon I am a hostage the kingdom broken and my brother dead…for you I have no mercy” she replied and avoided his gaze looking instead into the flames that seemed her only warmth in these cold lonely times.

But Aegon saw it differently, ,,I am the king and if I don't want you to behave like this?” he replied with a question, coming closer to her but it was an empty threat an empty threat that surprised him when she suddenly turned to him.

The crackle of burning wood could be heard as their eyes met and he felt her cool hand on his cheek. It was her sad smile as she held him close at night, trying to help him through the withdrawal.

He wanted to escape her and at the same time wanted more, ,,Behave Aegon, you have always behaved as you please, I have no kindness but neither do I hate,” she murmured the calm words and even though he saw her resentment, pain and hatred for his family, it did not affect him.

A fact that disturbed him and made him vulnerable Keep your enemies and especially your friends away from you he faintly remembered the words of his torturer Larys who had told him this one day. Words that had no meaning until now…until now.

But now, as his hand lay on hers, he kissed it, allowing her closeness just for one last time, one last time, like the last few times they both knew. ,,You should hate me, though, because as your enemy you would do well to…it would do us both good,” he whispered before pulling her into a reluctant kiss one last time, even though she knew the door to her home would never open again, that he was watching over her, that the crown would protect her even beyond her brother's death.

Aegon would not leave her, he would stay with her, take her in, kiss her, possess her again to draw her into the green memories of the past when she had lulled him with good…but now it was the fiery green fabric of the green that slowly wrapped itself around her and held her to him forever until the end of this dragon dance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Helaena : The new Queen of the Kingdoms, Helaena Targaryen the dreamer second daughter of Viserys the Peaceful and his second wife Alicent the now dowager Queen. A princess of the realm the wife of Aegon her husband her brother, her brother and the father of her three sweet children.

A queen who cared for her children, who occupied herself with her dreams and the crawling sounds of her insects only she seemed to understand. Detached from the small council she never attended, trying to find an answer in the words and signs seemed impossible, however, nothing since she felt the gaze of those eyes on her.

,,Seeing eyes envelop colors, one man's quiet is another man's joy too late when the wind catches us,” she said, seemingly suddenly in her room, looking from her embroidery to an unfinished flower before she felt the light touch of her mother still looking beside her. Unwanted and cold unknown and yet normal because she knew it. She didn't have to see her mother's dark eyes to recognize the worry and helplessness.

But above all, the new queen still felt something elriehcteurng. Relief after Rhaenys had fled, they had been able to take a ghost. The first and true princess of the kingdom, her own aunt, who had been imprisoned in King's Landing for weeks, probably knew that she would not be governed in the coming months.

,,Do you know what it means?” her mother dared to ask, but her daughters only shook their heads before silence fell between them again and Helaena still saw the only image in her mind - the image of the hostage. ,,Please take care of the three of them for a moment, mother,” she asked Alicent didn't wait for an answer in the end it was an order from the queen and they both knew it but Helaena wouldn't take advantage of her power just yet.

The queen's footsteps echoed through the corridors her cone did not grace her head the metal was too unfamiliar, too uncomfortable and too horrible.

But that didn't matter because she had something else she wanted to get to now, something she had to get to in order to convince herself that she wasn't dreaming. ,,Come in,” she heard the muffled voice and stepped into the princess's large bedchamber, where she sat in her armchair with a book in her hand.

Helaena knew that others reproached the princess, her family the green ones ridiculed her for being so quiet, but the queen knew better. ,,My dear Helaena… you have seen it again” she hit the nail on the head, knowing why she had not come to her as she did almost every day, seeking her contact and closeness, her comfort, her voice and her answers.

The younger girl nodded, she still wasn't sure if her aunt had these dreams too or if she just felt it…but maybe that was why they were looking for each other. ,,It hasn't left me since Aemond did it, it's like a wind that will come over us,” she confessed and slowly sat down next to her on the wide armchair, paying attention to the books of kings and queens only for a moment before she looked into her aunt's violet eyes.

Helaena put her hand on her aunt's and saw that something was going on inside her, ,,This wind began to blow when the blood of your brother's husband touched your mother's hands,” she replied and Helaena felt a clarity as words slowly became something in the mist. It was a clarity her father had once told her about many years ago when he had once again taken an interest in her dreams, but that had passed.

The queen knew that she now had someone to help her who did not see her as something strange, ,,One lucidity from you my thanks is not enough for you in such a situation” she tried to make it easier for him knowing what it was like to be trapped, unheard and not taken seriously.

But in the end she knew that there was at least the two of them, that when Helaena needed her, her beloved aunt was always there for her, whether day or night.

She allowed her cheek to be touched and felt the older woman run her fingers over her now barely visible freckles again, the same loving laugh and warm gaze meeting Helaena's eyes. ,,I'm sorry,” slipped softly from the queen's lips as she pulled the older woman into a momentary embrace that wasn't cold and stiff, it was warmly welcoming and understanding.

,,I know Helaena…I will be too” the princess replied knowing in her own dreams that from now on the wind would not only take hold of her own body the power of the sword and dragon's deeds will drive Helaena to her death hand in hand with herself…but until then, whether as a ghost or still a proud princess, she would not accept her beloved and help her, for the thread of the green had long, long since been bored into her heart and would not let her go…she was bound to her queen by dreams and life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alicent : Once she was queen, once she was queen over the royal land and had power. Had power that she had never used, however, and if only in an area that was more harmful than anything in the shadows.

Alicent Hightower, not even half her age, had given up her crown again to her young daughter, hardly a young woman and with such a responsibility.

A thought the brown-haired woman disliked but that was the way it had to be…that was the way it had to be if she wanted to protect her family from Rhaenyra from her from the self-proclaimed Queen of Dragonstone and Westeros But Alicent herself she now seemed like a ghost of the past only for a moment she had been the most powerful woman of the lands with the death of Visery she had the full decision and what had she used it for?

She knew the answer, she had interpreted it with tears over a past pleasure that she would not get back and now knew that when she looked at her children, her Aegon, that he now had to protect his family and also her, that Helaena now brought children into the world and Aemond protected his siblings with his sword…but she had only protected and defended her children for the last two decades at what cost?

The price was those violet eyes full of understanding and no aversion, despite the fact that the eldest princess of the kingdom was in her power, she still looked at Alicent with understanding. How can she do it? the dowager queen asked herself the hours over and over again when she looked at the green fabric of the dress the question green her color the color of her house and yet she felt this aversion again.

Dislike in her family because this dislike resulted from her fear of not being able to protect the last thing she had left of herself. To lose herself, to lose her children….to lose her family that she had only tried to protect.

But perhaps these violet eyes of understanding were the reason why the former queen went to the princess. Maybe it was something else, or maybe it was just desperation - did that even matter in a kingdom?

Knocking and waiting for a short answer, she stepped inside and saw the woman standing in the ramp, apparently she had just come back in from the balcony of the bedchamber. ,,Do you miss our walks?” Alicnet asked immediately without thinking and immediately offered her something, not wanting her to feel bad, but she only got a slight shake of the head and a gentle smile.

,,No widow queen it's bearable I understand why” she assured the younger girl that everything was in order, even if she had a hostage she was a princess but both had advantages and disadvantages in such a situation. But this calmness seemed to drive Alicent crazy. why was she so in control, but not herself?

A question to which she had no answer, a question that caused the former queen to reach for the elder's hand and hold it, her dark eyes meeting the violet ones. ,,How? How can you take it all after everything?” the question came again faster than she thought, but the princess continued to hold Alicent's hand and slowly pulled her into a hug.

A hug like they hadn't hugged for years, loving, understandable when they were younger and the world was still in order. And then Alicent heard a sniffle and a shaky exhale, ,,I can't, not when I look into those brown, deeply hurt eyes Alicent my dear I just have to…for my family…and for you,” the princess finally confessed after what seemed like an eternity between them but she said it.

The truth was that they were both suffering from this war, unable to support their family and their loved ones who stood on the other side. Alcient put her hand on the cheek of the older one, their eyes looking at each other before she put her forehead against the other's, they held each other for a moment.

The scent of the candles and the smell of the bushes from the sacred places of the seven surrounded them, the scent that had always clung to alicnet and the light smoke and the scent of the princess's roses, the scent of the dragon that did not pursue the rose petals as a chosen symbol as the first princess of the realm.

Before the princess gave the widow queen a chaste kiss, a clear sign that it was all right for her to forgive her. A kiss that they had only exchanged a few times, a short chaste kiss of uncertain feelings and yet affection.

A sign that the black and green around them were tightening as the different colors on the dragon came closer and closer, killing each other one by one until there was nothing left of the one-time love they had ever shared.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Criston : The sword of the white queen for years, the teacher of metal for the king and his brother and the protector of the three royal children who never really had a father.

He was the leader of the bodyguard of the new green royal family, a sword that came into action when he was called, when he was ordered to do something and when he had to protect.

But a few months ago he had acted of his own free will, a fact that still leaves him with questions to this day. He had acted on his own initiative, having been ordered by the royal family to watch over them while he ran through the castle, sword in hand and a hunch that Rhaenys would have more on his mind than just escape and warning.

He couldn't get that look of pain, of betrayal out of her dark eyes, a look that pained him as his hand wrapped around her body and pulled her away from the balcony she was about to plunge down to land on the red dragon.

,,She belongs to me and she is my hostage, Princess Rhaenys disappears…I don't belong to any crown!” he had shouted at her and pulled her cousin back into the room, not wanting to grab her so roughly, but it was his own fear of losing her.

The first woman after Rhaenyra who had not taken advantage of him, who had not turned her own power and position against him…it was even stronger than his feelings for the dowager queen.

But it had worked, it had worked with the words of her cousin that the princesses withdrew, Meyleys relaxed and the princesses of the blacks disappeared.

But today, when his rounds took him back to her, the doubts came back to him: she was his hostage, the hostage of the green, and yet, apart from the pain, he saw no hatred, a fact that worried him.

,,Have you no other way to know Sir Criston?” her voice rang out and she peeked slightly out of her room or even her cell which was unlocked but escape was futile without a weapon or her dragon she would not get far. She was that smart but Criston knew she was smarter, she always had been.

The knight came to a stop in front of her door, the clatter of his armor breaking through the style, ,,Of course, but it's my duty to look after you princess,” he replied calmly, a look of peace hitting her he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable.

Not after he had treated her so roughly. But a sad smile crept onto her lips and she glanced at his sword for a moment, ,,You look out for me yes-yes you do by making me your hostage,” she spoke out what had apparently destroyed the friendship, the feelings and the affection between them.

It was his fear of losing her to that stuck-up twat that he had hurt her. But just because his princess in the flesh was his hostage didn't mean it had to ruin everything, did it? Couldn't there be some kind of court, because he was a knight, a protector, she just had to understand that he had always protected her.

He saw her about to close the door again, but this time it was he who stood there again, not wanting to let her go, and put his foot between the door and the rattling of the armor could be heard again. ,,You know why I did it,” the knight defended himself with a shield of words knowing their feelings could cut deeper than any sword.

They both knew why he had done it which is why he stood here enruet his gaze fixed on her form his hands not on his sword, on his armor but on her waist holding her tight not wanting to let her go again ,,I know and…and that makes it all the worse to feel something like this in the middle of a war” she admitted admitting it was between them as she didn't back away not pushing him away knowing he wouldn't hurt her and yet it was right.

Was it right that she let him in, that he didn't close the door and that he didn't raise his sword against her when he wasn't even under control.

The kiss that was finally allowed, a kiss that was overdue, a kiss to erase her bitterness, a kiss from the knight who had sworn to protect her and would do so.

Even though his kiss had plunged into her body like a sword, her blood had turned from black to green and they were now more than just hostage and hostage taker.

He was now her own sworn shield, he was her personal protector and the man who would not only be her downfall and death in the end, but also the man who had always loved her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[rosemaryblossomworld]

Reaction. That throne belongs to me!

The characters' reactions to Y/n's phrase, during the hearing, "Go to hell! That throne belongs to me! Not some drunken half-blood! I am the purest blood of the Targaryen line!" (The reader is the daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon, but she is introduced as Laenor's daughter).

✧.* Y/n: She's tired of being treated like a bastard. And they forget that she is the pureblood heir to the throne. She knew Laenor wasn't her father, and the whole court knew it. The older she gets, the more she resembles her own father. Now it's her turn to defend herself and her family!

✧.* Rhaenyra: She didn't expect the argument over Driftmark to turn into an insult to her children. The princess thought it foolish of Vaemond to draw the court's attention to her children's appearance. Her boys might not have taken on her features, but here was her eldest daughter! Rhaenyra was happier than ever, rejoicing that she had slept with her uncle that night and that they had a beautiful child. She stood behind her daughter and felt protected.

✧.* Daemon: He smiled. He had seen his daughter lose her temper for the first time, but the way her eyebrows furrowed and her jaw clenched, her posture and her clenched fists reminded him of himself as a teenager. His little princess had become a warrior, ready to repel any attack. The prince gripped the hilt of his sword tighter, preparing to cut off the head of anyone who dared to harm his child.

✧.* Alicent: She squirmed and tried to hide her excitement, but she chewed her lips and discreetly peeled the skin off her fingers. She looked at Aegon and realized that she could only brag about the fact that he had white hair and light eyes, the same as Y/N. She closed her eyes, trying to escape the situation.

✧.* Otto: gritted his teeth. For long months he had planned Y/n's death; she was a true heiress, just like Rhaenyra, and she had interfered greatly with his plans. The man was just glad that both heiresses were women! No one would choose them! But when he looked into the eyes of the young princess, glowing with dragon fire, his courage slowly faded.

✧.* Vaemond: He remained silent, realizing that he had said a foolish thing, directed at all of Rhaenyra's heirs, forgetting the young white-haired beast!

✧.* Rhaenys: She just nodded and smiled in agreement. She knew that Y/n wasn't Laenor's child, but he had raised her and she saw his words afterwards as 'her granddaughter'.

✧.* Jace: grinned contentedly. He watched the faces of the nobles change, and it made him want to laugh! He panicked as he noticed Vaemond looming menacingly over his sister. He looked over to see Daemon clutching his sword, so he followed suit, ready. He wouldn't let anyone hurt his sister!

✧.* Luca: pressed his lips together, he didn't like this 'event' from the beginning. He was unsure of many things. The boy feared for his older sister who had moved away from them and was already in the middle of the throne room.

✧.* Baela: clenched her fists and was ready to come out and stand next to Y/n, but Rhaena grabbed her under the arm at such a bad time.

✧.* Rhaena: She just held her sister back and looked at Y/N to make sure she was okay.

✧.* Aemond: Only a blind man would not notice his smile. He was looking at this doting figure standing opposite the great, angry Vaemond, ready to attack the old man. In all the years he has known this storm, she has never ceased to amaze him. Maybe that's why she's his favorite.

✧.* Aegon: He was only smiling drunkenly and wanted to end this "game" quickly. A jug of good Dornish wine awaits him in his chambers, and perhaps a meeting on Silk Street. If Y/n became the heir, he would be doubly happy, since he had no interest in the throne. He had talked to his mother about it and was ready to give the throne to his younger brother, but for some reason he refused.

✧.* Helena: She felt uncomfortable. There were too many people and too many emotions, so she blinked a lot and made a face. And the situation itself didn't bother her much, she had lost the point of this meeting long ago and was somewhere far away in her thoughts. She often dreamed about Y/n, but until now she couldn't understand the meaning of her dreams.

୨⎯ ୨⎯ 𝒷𝑜𝓃𝓊𝓈 ⎯୧ ⎯୧

"Or is the problem that I am a woman? Or the fact that your significant other, Otto Hightower, will not be on the throne?" Y/n glared defiantly at the man sitting on the throne.

"I would ask... "The man pursed his lips unhappily.

"What if I told you something that could close those two points?" the princess smiled.

"What could it be, silly girl?"

"Let's see... I spent the night with Prince Aemond Targaryen!"

The court erupted in shouts of indignation and surprise.

As Y/N stood next to her mother, she looked into eyes full of surprise and fear.

"What are you..." Rhaenyra couldn't get her thoughts together.

"What? You're the one who said we should team up with the Greens, I found a quick way" Y/N hummed and shrugged.

Daemon couldn't help himself and laughed all over the hall.

[achaoticeternal]

a presentation

word count: 750 summary: finding aemond admiring the throne once more, you tell him of your wish to simply be his wife again a/n: just a quick drabble to get some writing going again. not proofread. this is based off the song the greatest by billie eilish

All my love and patience Unappreciated You said your heart was jaded You couldn't even break it

The mass of swords welded together to form the Iron Throne loomed over the Throne Room. Its' magnificence was equally spectacular yet terrifying. An item that represented unity and obedience melded together by fire and death.

It was a seat many had craved over time. Yet she saw the jagged edges that had nicked King Viserys, then Aegon... and soon Aemond would be subjected to it. She had dreamed of it only nights prior.

Her husband ascends the Throne before a mass of nobles and common folk alike. A wolfish smile invades the faces of those surrounding them. Yet when he took his seat with the Conqueror's crown high on his silken hair, an undulled sword from the arm of the chair would slice his palm open. The princess had felt it an omen, an even darker one after Meleys had been carted through the street. The dream was the only thing to replay in her mind as she approached where Aemond now stood. His eyes flickered our the steel of swords stuck together permanently. She always sensed his hunger for power and prayed that his thirst did not come at the cost of blood or their marriage. But the gods paid little favor to them. "It is late," She called out to him, "We should be sleeping." Aemond hummed, acknowledging her comment. He cocked his head to the side, not quite looking at her as his eye remained fixated on the Throne, "We shall be standing up there tomorrow."

The princess swallowed, only to take another step forward as she responded, "You. You will be up there tomorrow. I will be perched next to your mother or Helaena. Either hearing prayers for Aegon's ailments or your ascension." A small, playful smirk painted his lips, "I'm sure I could order a seat to be placed near my feet. So that I may present to the court all my prizes: the Throne, the Crown, the perfect Wife."

Her lips tugged downward, disgust lining her stomach, "Will you dress me and braid my hair too? Paint my face to make my skill look porcelain?"

The Prince Regent finally turned to face her, "Do not use such a tone with me, wife. You have nothing to complain about as I have built you a perfect life." The air between them went stagnant as her eyes remained fixed on them. You face betrayed nothing of what you felt which shocked your husband. He had always been able to read you so plainly, it was something he even enjoyed in your relationship.

"A perfect life?" The princess repeated her words, "Will you put me in a glass display and title it 'A Perfect Life?'?

Aemond's jaw tightened and he took a great step toward her, "I have proven myself to be the greatest Targaryen since Maegor himself and yet you look at me like a villain. This will make people see. This will make people fear me and regret their spineless actions. Now they have no choice but to love and respect their new King."

"And yet I did all of that when you were just Aemond," She barked back at him, her own hurt and anger slipping through, "I respected you, I listened to you, I loved you... for just being a prince- no, just being a boy." "Wife, I-" He attempted to interject.

"I am not finished," The princess stopped him, "I have played the part of your wife, perfectly. I provided you with love, comfort, hospitality, my spirit, my body. I never asked for you to give more of yourself than you could because I knew what a fragile heart you keep locked away. But I am not some pet or doll to be displayed as another prize of your ambition. I am your wife, and you could at least let me enjoy that duty. I only ever wanted to show you love."

At her speech, Aemond had fallen silent. His hands rested behind hs back, silently fidgeting with his leather cuffs. All was still.

"It is late," Aemond finally spoke, "You should get some rest. I will join you in our chambers when I have wrapped up my duties for the evening."

"Very well," The princess swallowed back her pain, once more feeling powerless. She turned on her heels and exited.

I shouldn't have to say it You could've been the greatest

[camlovesjace]

SINFUL THOUGHTS ! Jacaerys Velaryon

SUMMARY: it's been a moon and half since you´d been betrothed to Jacaerys, the perfect and responsible prince, He was everything you weren't. The rumors of your great ability to enjoy yourself were as strong as the rumors about his bastardy, and none of them were wrong. WARNING: everything you could think of

THE CASTLE WAS quiet since so long, you always thought that living on Dragonstone would´ve been boring as hell, and you were right. You missed the laugh, the noise and the spirit of the big city, but most you missed your big brother. Aegon.

You and him had been close since you were teens, at least close enough to everyone to think you two were sleeping together. It was gross but you couldn't blame them, your family had always had a long and peculiar story with their blood. Let's say you Targaryen´s keep it in the family.

But that was not what was happening between him and you, no. He had opened your mind with knowledge not many princess or ladies had, dark and valuable knowledge. Pleasure. He had said "No man shall lay your hand on you, unless you want to" and after those words he take you to a brothel.

Your desire had never been to marry and be wedded like a piece of meat, to squeeze out heirs like some child machine to a stupid fat lord twenty years older than you. Aegon gave you the choice to live your body freely with people of your liking, male and female, it didn't mattered on his eyes...and soon it didn´t mattered on yours neither.

Of course people talked about that, a lot. But you never cared, at least never enough to stop it. Not until two moons ago, when you mother the queen said you were going to marry Jacaerys Velaryon.

And you hated it.

You hated it cause it meant you freedom was about to crash down, that your life and choices were going to be under the palm of his hands.

You yelled at your mother, at your rotting father and at the whole red keep. You broke your dresses, your jewelry, everything. You were like a child doing a tantrum and you knew it. You even insulted Jacaerys, looking at him up and down and calling him kiddo, even when he was one name day older than you.

But nothing could stopped what was happening now, your inevitable marriage with your soon to be husband...

You were sitting on the couch in front of the hearth, the island was cold but all your dresses were made for show off, you mother had sent a few ones with long neck but they were all green and you hated them.

Then, in the middle of the silence, the door opened. Your betrothed walked in, eyeing the entire room looking for something or someone, he had black and red clothes, but it was more a maroon red you did noticed, the same color of the dress you were wearing too.

He looked at your and you wave on his path, almost mocking him, his jaw clenched instantly. He hates the effect you have on him. You get up and he walked towards you.

"my princess, was my mother here with you?" he asked, yet his blood was boiling on his veins.

"you're always clinging to your mother's skirt, my prince?" she mocked, Jace clenched his jaw so hard that his teeth started to hurt, he raised a hand on the air and the guards of the door leave the room.

"you know what they said? they said i was marrying a cunt" he spoke and she only smirked.

"they also said i was marrying a bastard"

those words were enough to make him storm at you, his movements were rough and swift, he pressed you against the couch you were sitting on and opened your legs, adjusting himself between your thighs. It was not a lie you had been trying to provoke him since a some days ago, desperate to feel the touch of another over your body, your own hands weren't enough.

"You had been kicking my mind with your goddamn sinful thoughts" he whispered, his mouth found your neck and it made you shiver when his tongue licked your skin, smiling you touched his neck. He had been fighting against the urge of taking what he knew was his but this had reached a point he can´t ignore anymore.

He hates those dress you use, the red dresses mostly, they were tight around your waist and chest, pressing your breast almost like you were showing off yourself, and god´s he absolutely hates your dresses that has no shoulders, exposing your collarbone and your thin long neck, almost asking him to press his lips all over your pale skin, it was driving him mad.

He moved his hands under your dress, pressing you down against the couch and making you gasp, his head entered into the fabric and you smiled, knowing what he will do. Then his tongue moved around your cunt, making you moan loudly at the feeling, you´d missed this.

He sucked on your womanhood almost with a hunger of a hundred men, soon you felt his slender fingers pushing inside, his fingertip caressing your walls and making you whimper and curse. You have felt many wonderful hands but you never expected Jacaerys to have a pair of those, suddenly the idea of being his wife didn't sounded so fatal. Then he pressed two fingers into your core.

Your moaning became louder, your breathing started to fail as you became closer to your release, his goddamn tongue assaulting your clit, moving in circles and up and down, you were already seeing stars but then three of his fingers fucked you, his fingers curving and his thumb rolling your swollen pearl.

His mouth moved to yours, kissing you desperately while his right hand keep working on your pleasure, he made you taste yourself on his tongue, the sweetness of your cunt on his lips made you shiver, your hips moved up and down, riding his fingers with a blind need.

"Yeah, like that...come on, baby, fuck my fingers" he whispers and it made you smile, moving more quickly, he also pressed his fingers in and out, finding your movements in a delicious way that made you come undone around his fingers almost instantly. Your cheeks were pink and hot, his free hand held you by the throat while his fingers moved slowly, making you cry out his name in soft whispers as you swim in the waves of the pleasure.

His face fell on the crook of your neck but you already wanted another round, this time riding his cock and not just his fingers.

"Maybe being your lady wife will be more fun that what i thought" you said, and he chuckle.

dt: @nebulamorada

[damneddamsy]

renegade | aemond targaryen x oc (part i)

When Aemma's deafening first cries pricked through the damp walls of a stormy morning in Dragonstone, nobody celebrated. Nobody was there to witness her birth but the wet nurses. Well, there was the young princess' seafaring father partially in his own revelry; striding across the floor with the babe in his arms, smiling so wide at his fordone wife, fresh out of her labours. You'd think the child was his own, the way he bounced the babe around and cooed at her in delight. Irregardless of the sallow shadow of silvery hair across the babe's head and her alarming brown eyes, Princess Rhaenyra of Dragonstone quelled her awaiting dread and stroked her first daughter's cheek. She brought the child close to her shivering lips and whispered in her ear: "My darling, Aemma."

Now you must understand why Princess Rhaenyra had rushed off to her birthplace with her newly betrothed in tow, and it is quite apt to assume that it was to douse the fire surrounding Aemma's birth. In no more than a month, King's Landing beckoned, and they answered. They answered with haste, bearing the 'evidence' of their alleged consummation. A testament of royal blood.

During Aemma's younger years in the Red Keep, she was constantly under the aegis of her doting mother. Aemma was to be the heir to the throne, but Her Grace never shared the certainty. That babe's eyes and olive skin shared the likeness to that of a certain Dornish Commander of the Queensguard. However it happened, Ser Criston Cole, Princess Rhaenyra's now turned most resentful of foes, was heard in a profound argument with the princess. It is claimed that they rowed over Aemma's paternal lineage; Ser Criston named her a 'vindictive whore' and her daughter a 'nameless nobody'.

That night, in the nursery of the Red Keep, the pregnant Princess of Dragonstone brushed her daughter's hair. Each stroke of the brush was careful and thoughtful, masking the shudder in her hands and the anxiety in her eyes.

"You're only mine," Rhaenyra vowed, kissing her hair. "No matter who you look like."

"I look like you, mummy," Aemma said.

"And that is enough."

Aemma was little, smaller than the other princes and princesses in the castle, and unlike the others, her dragon egg remained unhatched for the longest time until they deemed it futile to warm. The princess didn't stay disconsolate, she found herself another egg from Syrax's newest clutch, but the same fate followed. Perhaps that's why no one truly believed her to be Targaryen—what was countenance and complexion compared to the true blood of the dragon?

Instead, Aemma became proficient in wandering off, beyond the walls of the Red Keep, and toward the woods surrounding the Kingsroad. She often liked to collect pebbles by the beach, catch frogs near puddles, fashion a fishing rod out of stick and string, and sketch out oddities she would witness in her galavants. Vines, leaves, spiders, rabbit, hart; she seemed to make more friends outside the palace than within. She would steal maps from the Keep's archives and make off into her room, imprinting her own onto books using ink.

It was Ser Criston who caught the six-year-old princess red-handed as she attempted to slip away with her maps while her brothers trained in the courtyard. He shook her arm severely, nearly snapping Aemma's neck.

"Little cunt. I knew you would be the bane of me," he had hissed at her. Aemma let out a scared shriek, stumbling to keep up with the knight's fleet-footed steps back into the Keep.

"I beg of you, Ser Criston. I won't do it again," Aemma had wept to him. "Please, ser—"

"What is the meaning of this, Cole?" It was Ser Harwin Strong who had interfered with their hasty retreat. Using this as an upper hand, Aemma wrenched her arm out of Ser Criston's grip and bolted to Ser Harwin's side with tears in her eyes.

"It's alright, princess," Ser Harwin soothed her, lifting her up into his arms and cradling her close. "Let's get you to your mother."

"A perfect addition to your Strong brood," Cole remarked insidiously as Ser Harwin turned to leave.

Ser Harwin smirked. "Were it not for her Dornish charm."

This silenced the knight altogether. Since then, the young princess spoke of this incident to no one and kept clear of the menacing Ser Criston Cole. She did have a newfound admiration for Ser Harwin Strong.

Aemma settled in watching as her uncles and brothers grew up, nestling their eggs and nurturing their hatchlings, understanding High Valyrian to take to the skies, all the while making concessions with the direwolf pup Ser Laenor had gifted her on her sixth name day. A grey-backed runt, most comparable to her father's war-hardened dragon, Seasmoke. Hence, named Seasmoke. He had gone through many hardships to bring the pup within the castle walls.

"But this Seasmoke doesn't fly," Aemma murmured, scratching the wolf's ears.

Laenor ruffled her hair. "You and I both wish he did, my love."

She tilted her head at the animal that curled up on her father's lap. "Does he at least breathe fire?"

Laenor pushed out his lip in confusion. "Ser Qarl tells me that once he's fully grown, he can run faster than any horse you've ever seen. And he'll be almost as big as one, too."

She frowned. "How is that better than dragon-riding?"

"Until then, he has much love to offer instead," he pacified, laughing. "Won't that be nice? I hear this Seasmoke can fit beside your pillow. Guard you through the dusk like your own furry knight."

Aemma laughed with her father. "I suppose. I can share him with Aemond," she resolved, lifting her new companion into her arms. "He doesn't have a dragon either. He has it worse, you know. Aegon and Jace are so cruel to him in the dragonpits."

"That's a terrific idea." Laenor touched her nose. "Your prince would love the company, too."

Laenor wasn't surprised, those two had been joined at the hip for a few good years now. They were shields of the other, covering for each other's mischiefs around the Red Keep. While Rhaenyra kept a weather eye on Queen Alicent's second son, Laenor chalked up their relationship to innocent camaraderie. He couldn't stand seeing Aemma isolated—of course, Halaena was around her, but never really there—as Laenor himself had been subject to such hostility from his close kin occasionally.

As for Aemma, her nearest and dearest had become Aemond Targaryen. She was fiercely protective of him, walking about as his own living shadow. She didn't know if he felt that way about her, but Aemond secretly vowed he would take an arrow in his heart for her. It was these two lonesome, dragon-less riders against the world. And Aemma was satisfied with the state of things.

Together, they'd seek adventures of their own. Mischiefs, more like. The prince and princess were always up to no good. Aemma was always the silent instigator.

"Disgusting," Aemond would say when Aemma caught him a frog from a puddle in the forest. He had followed her out of pure curiosity, wondering where she was always disappearing off to.

"What if it's venomous?"

She pushed the wriggling frog under his nose and he fell back into some leaves in fright. "This one? This little thing?"

"Aemma!" he hissed.

She giggled, sitting by him to appease him. "She's harmless. I've seen a bunch of her family hopping about, around here."

He launched a fistful of crackling leaves into her face. "You did that on purpose!"

She gasped, laughing at him, before launching her own attack. He laughed with her, and this time, he caught her in his arms and hauled her to the ground, uncaring of the dirt.

She spat out a leaf that got in her mouth, shuddering and coughing. "If I take to my bed again, my mother will be furious."

"Don't worry, I'll defend you."

He panted out another laugh, then took notice of the muck that spoiled the cream of her skirts. He reached out to wipe them off whilst she burrowed the frog into her chest. It was always Aemond who kept his wits about the situation, making it his responsibility to keep her safe.

In turn to her companionship, Aemond would catch Aemma fireflies to keep by her pillow, press her flowers between his favourite books, and endeavour to teach her Valyrian, hoping it would become a secret language between them. Alas, she was quite hopeless.

She stuttered her words, quietly adding the words in syllables. "Aenar se Exile... gūrotan Zaldrīzesdōron... ēlī." (Aenar the Exile first staked his claim on Dragonstone.)

"Zaldrīzes," Aemond repeated for her. "Roll your tongue."

She stuck it out at him playfully. In turn, he chucked her chin, making her chomp her teeth into the muscle.

"Ow!"

"Valyrīha iksis īlva ānogar," he told her gravely. "You are obliged to learn it." (Valyria is our blood.)

She slammed the book close, dropping her head over the cover. "And I will. It's simply too tedious."

On another night, the young princess showed up in Aemond's chambers, the entrance to the Maegor's tunnels wide open behind her insolent smile. The tunnels were easy to wrest in and out of, especially with the two of them sneaking away to train Seasmoke together and feasting over looted lemon cakes.

Aemma had a dirtied hat and shirt for him to change into, and a palm to clutch safely while they embarked into smallfolk's King's Landing. You would think these two had an ounce of fear in them, at least of their parents, but they had gotten so used to getting away with anything.

"Are you sure this is the way?" An uneasy Aemond asked for the third time as they crossed the intersection of an alleyway.

The streets were unlit and overcast, but her mischievous giggle gleamed the way. "Let's wander a bit. I heard they've brought in your favourite dragon peppers from far across Dorne tonight. I want us to try it before any of our kin."

Aemond gulped and grasped her arm tighter. But he would never back down, he cherished these little misdeeds with her. "I'll keep a lookout. One sight from the Kingsguard, and we're doomed."

And that's how they spent the hour of the owl; trading a few coppers for hot dragon peppers, a mug of ale and a bag of dry fruits. Tiptoeing out of sight and around the white cloaks, they snuck away to the walls that overlooked the Blackwater Bay in the Red Keep. Carefully climbing atop the shorter rocks, they balanced each other side by side and soaked up the saline breezy, seafoam washing up near their feet. Aemma stayed with her reflections, munching on dates while Aemond threw the pits of the dry fruits as far as he could.

"When we are older, do you think my father will wed us?" Aemond abruptly asked, wistful.

Aemma popped her lips around the pit of the fruit. "If we say no, they won't."

He looked at her, his heart dropping like a hard rock to his stomach. "Why would we say no?"

She simply snorted a giggle.

"Do you not think I will take care of you?" He pointed to the crescent moon far above the waves. "If you said it, I'd bring that moon into your palms. I'd buy all the fruits in the world for you. Dragon peppers, too."

She scrunched her nose and passed him the clean pit. He tossed it further into the sea. "It's not that. Then we'll have to stay here forever. I don't want that."

He frowned. "Why not? We could be married evermore and live on our own."

"Yes, but... I want to travel the world on dragonback, like Aegon the Conqueror," she told him, smiling. She nudged his shoulder with hers. "Can you imagine it? You, me, our dragon... we'll feast to our hearts' content, wear anything we'd like, sleep in tents, row boats in the seas, visit the wonders—it'll be exciting!"

He didn't like it one bit, but he entertained the thought for her. He wouldn't dare try and pilfer the excitement out of her. "It does sound incredible. But as a princess—as your mother's heir—your duties are here. To the realm and the throne."

She stuck her tongue out in dismissal. "Ugh. Mother and Jace can do it. It's all he talks about anyway. The Iron Throne and the power to who wields it."

Aemma didn't catch the glint in Aemond's eye at the mention of the throne. "Ah, but you don't have a dragon."

"We will find one," she corrected, tousling Aemond's hair. "Where's your sense of adventure, my friend?"

He fought off her arm with a playful smile. "You'll get me in heaps of trouble one day."

That day came sooner than expected. It was Aemma who was at the forefront, her thrill-seeking and intrepid attitude stemming from the roots of her mother's youth, and now taking form in the quiet but unafraid girl she was now.

"Did you hear? There's an unclaimed dragon in the pits. My father says that she's as old as the Conqueror," Aemma whispered to Aemond while their families broke fast together. Aemma was supposed to be seated next to Jace by her mother, but the moment she laid eyes on Aemond, she didn't budge from his side.

Aemond listened, nodding, and didn't spare her a look. His mother, Her Grace, had warned him about the gossip of his half-sister's illegitimacies.

Aemma tugged on his arm to get his attention. "I'll come with you later. You must try."

He eventually peeked at her, then at her hand—her bronze skin and his pale complexion didn't quite league together. Aemma was a bright soul at almost ten years old, frustratingly tenacious enough to remain that way heedless of the vindictive gossip of her true birth. She was unrelenting when it came to her cause, and Aemond was pleased to know he was one of them.

He managed a smile at her, passing it as polite in front of his mother. "Or rather you should try, princess."

She clucked her tongue, popping a blueberry in her mouth. "She's not for me. I'll know when I see mine... I'll stick to my Seasmoke for now."

"I can't believe you let that beast sleep next to you. He's gotten too large for your bed," Aemond whispered, laughing.

"Barely," she giggled.

Seasmoke the wolf had grown into a mighty animal in a mere three years, warmly domesticated by Aemma. For his humungous size, you'd expect a war-hardened hero, but he was a pup in Aemma's eyes.

Aemond and Aemma did attempt to sneak into the dragon pits to claim Dreamfyre later that night, only for them to be scared witless by the ferocity of dragon fire and her sheer size, and bolting to the exit in screams, covered in soot and dust. Caught by the guards, they were sent to the royal chambers where Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra waited for them, bearing fear for their children's lives.

"Seven hells, Em," the princess breathed in relief, taking her into an embrace. "You gave me a fright. Are you hurt?" She rubbed at the black soot on her cheeks and throat. Her mother's eyes swam in unshed tears. "What were you thinking? Going into the dragonpit alone! You could've died!"

"I wanted Aemond to claim a dragon," she quietly told her mother. "I'm sorry, mummy."

"Oh, Aemma," the princess whispered, kissing her head until she was sure that this wasn't a dream. "You're safe now."

"She has put the prince's life at risk with this lark of hers," Her Grace disputed, a restrictive arm around Aemond.

"I insisted, mother," the young prince tried to intervene. "It wasn't her fault."

"I am to blame," Aemma pleaded, shaking her head. "I apologize for my behaviour, your Grace. It is inexcusable."

"The princess is naive to a fault," Aemond hissed. "I talked her into coming with me."

"No, I did!"

"It was me!"

"Aemond—!"

"Enough!" Queen Alicent exclaimed, her hands fists at her sides. "I've had enough of Princess Aemma escaping blame for long enough. Aemond, you are to stay away from—"

"Your Grace," the princess interrupted.

Alicent shot her a defiant look but said nothing.

"Both the prince and princess have faced the consequences of trying to claim a dragon without due consideration," Rhaenyra triumphed over the queen, making her peace. "However brave they were, it was foolish. Lessons learned. Their faces speak it plainly."

Both the younglings bowed their heads to hide their bruises and smoke-covered faces.

"As parents, let us see to it that the children are checked for wounds, treated, and well rested," she continued, stroking Aemma's head. "My daughter has a long trip ahead of her. We would like to set sail on good terms."

She looked up at her mother, confused. "Sail where?"

The princess only smiled and chucked her chin. "Come, my love. Bid your good night to the queen and prince."

One last look and Aemond knew what it was. They were going to take her away from him. The one thing that he wanted for himself, and they were going to separate them for good. He never did understand why, so he took it upon himself to seek Aemma out once more.

It was so decided that Princess Rhaenyra, her sons, her daughter and Ser Laenor would sail to Dragonstone in a week. No place like home, they said. But it wasn't a return, it was an escape. The piercing whispers around the castle were inescapable, no fire-breathing dragons of wars could stop it.

To confirm his apprehensions, Aemond managed to slip into Aemma's chambers after twilight, only to find the young princess hiding her unfathomable ire in her wolf's fur.

"Did you see your new brother?" Her new bastard brother, he wanted to say. He would never dare to say those words to his dearest friend.

"My mother would try to wed me to Aegon," she expressed miserably instead. "Aegon! That loon wouldn't know the difference between dreaming and waking with his eyes open."

"Is that why you're unhappy? Because you were almost wed to my brother?" Aemond snickered, laying his head on the panting wolf next to her.

She nodded wordlessly.

"I am unhappy because you'll leave me here alone."

Aemma turned and laid on her back to face him with reddened eyes. Aemond didn't have to reach out and wipe her tears, she never cried—she was only ever angry to the point of pulling out her eyebrows in frustration. It was humorous sometimes.

"Then you can have Seasmoke," she offered.

"What about you?"

She shrugged. "I will be alright."

"You can't sleep without him."

"I will adjust."

"I'm older than you. You need him more."

"You need a protector while I'm away."

Aemond smiled; really smiled. A genuine one for his true companion. It's funny how she thought she was safeguarding him when she had never touched a sword or spear in her life.

"How will you learn Valyrian without me?" he asked.

"Eman gūrēntan sȳrī, ñuha raqiros," she spoke, grinning. (I have learned well, my friend.)

He clutched her wrist over the grey furs. "Kirimvose, princess." (Thank you.)

She sniffled and rose off her wolf to crush him with a hug. Aemond forgot all the cautions of his mother and the fiction around him, let go, and returned her faithful embrace tenfold. He buried his face into her braided hair and held her close over the thick carpet until he wanted her soldered to him, eyes to feet. He shouldn't have to let her go, it seemed so wrong for her to be so far away from him.

"Promise me you'll write often," she said into his shoulder.

He squeezed his eyes tight. "You first. You always write so beautifully."

She giggled. "I promise."

"I promise," he returned.

X

It wasn't until Lady Laena Velaryon's funeral that the entire royal family reconvened. All the Velaryons and Targaryens joined together in mourning for the death of a great warrior from the blood of Old Valyria. As they bore witness to the tragic loss, one steadfast Velaryon seemed to be missing from the affair.

The feast dragged, and as for Aemond, his gaze probed the brown-haired princes born of the Princess of Dragonstone for the one he wanted. He couldn't help but despair about her absence. Had she forgotten him? What of her letters? What of her stories about the quests to find dragon eggs around Dragonmont?

"Aemma," was all he said when Jace stood by him, out of careful instruction from the princess. Prince Jacaerys told him that his sister had taken to her bed. Even if his mother won't speak of it to his brothers, he heard the handmaidens whispering of her 'flowering' into a woman. Aemond was horrified—but she was too young. Hardly ten years of age. It was too soon for her, he was sure of it. It couldn't be true.

So you could tell Aemond's surprise when he heard the soft susurration of his name from beyond the stairwell. He saw a flash of silver and the same dearly roguish grin he had come to miss. He didn't care for anything else in that desolate gathering, he dashed down the stairs and collapsed into her.

Aemma let out a vibrant laugh and caught his face in her palms. "I've missed you every day, my friend."

He gasped a breathy laugh, still in disbelief. The moment he had imagined for so long, and here she was, in front of him, a manifestation of his wishes. She hadn't changed that much, her cheeks had thinned and given way to the gentle slope of her jawline.

"Your brother said you were—have you really—"

"Unimportant. We don't have long," she cut in, unbridled excitement running wild in her doe eyes. "Come with me, quick."

In proper Aemma fashion, she hauled Aemond's hand into hers and rushed him down the steps, due for another adventure. He did not contend, he had missed her terribly and this, only followed as they sprinted down to the beach and eventually caught their breath by the faraway shores. He slowed, but Aemma sped ahead.

"Where are we going?" he panted once he matched her pace. He wasn't as athletic as her, but it was one of her unmissable dexterities.

"Almost there," and she shot off again.

"Dammit—Aemma, wait for me!"

When they reached the hill summit that Aemma had dragged him above, with the winds whipping at their hair and tunics, they watched the largest, most terrible dragon in the world slumber away. It was miles long even curled into itself, deluged in its own way of mourning its late rider.

Aemond yanked a willing Aemma to the ground, hiding them behind the precipice, and hissed at her, "What are we doing here?"

"You must try, Aemond," she insisted her expression inflexible and true. She squeezed his shoulder. "Lay your claim to Vhagar before anyone else. You are deserving of her, I know you know it."

Aemond took a look at the dragon that lingered beyond the cliff. Aemma believed and entrusted this cause to him because she understood he was valiant, and most powerful of his bloodline despite his shortcomings. He was worthy of the queen of dragons. Yes, he knew it.

Beside him, Aemma was breathless in expectation. If by some rotten luck, Aemond claimed Vhagar, that would mean leaving her alone to face the calumnies of the people. The only dragon-less one in the royal family. He reached out to touch her cheek, a little sullen for her.

"What about you?"

She smiled against his hand. "That dragon's big enough to fly the both of us around the world for the rest of our lives."

Amused, Aemond shook up with a faint laugh. "You haven't changed at all."

She crushed all her faith and confidence into a sideways embrace. Under normal circumstances, he would've returned it, but this time, he needed this from her. He needed her affirming warmth and words.

"I believe in you, my friend. You can do this. Stay focused and never yield."

Aemond took a deep breath and stared the dragon down. I am the blood of the dragon, he thought. They will fear me, they will see what I truly am. Fire and blood. He repeated it in his mind, he kept it firm and real. You can do this, Aemma's voice echoed in his head.

Before the ink was dry on the page you see, the fierce Prince Aemond had mounted Vhagar and taken to the midnight skies as the newest dragon rider of the Targaryen dynasty.

X

Aemma's laughter was boisterous enough for all of Westeros to hear. You should've seen her the way Aemond saw her: cheeks red, eyes bright, hair wild, skirts dirtied, bouncing in bliss. When he descended and leapt off of Vhagar, she waited for him, a symphony of exhilaration. Not everyone had gotten as lucky as him. Aemond lifted her into his arms, and spun her around while she squealed at him—"You did it, you did it, you did it!"

When he set her down, he tugged her eagerly toward Vhagar. "Come, princess. We'll fly wherever your heart desires. Where to first, hm? Dorne, perhaps? Or further, to Naath? I'll need to find a map—"

Aemma planted her feet on the ground to stop him. Her expression had darkened a fraction. "I'm afraid we can not right now, my friend."

His face fell. "Why not?"

"I..." She bit her lip, hesitant.

Aemond knew immediately. She didn't even have to speak of it. "Is what Jace said true then? About your ailment."

She stayed quiet. Vhagar's intense growls filled the silence.

"You're still so young," he whispered to her. He knew what would happen to her now. "They're going to sell you off to some highborn lord far away somewhere I can't reach you."

She pressed his hands with hers, her eyes patient. "I won't let that happen."

"Then run away with me. Right now," he implored, bringing her hands to his chest. "We have this dragon. We'll return when it's been decided that this is unsuitable for you. I'll take care of you until then. They'll have no choice but to concede."

"Your father sits on the Iron Throne," she reminded him cautiously. "I'd besmirch his name."

"And your mother rules Dragonstone and is Viserys' successor," he prevailed. "Names, games and politics. When did all of that ever matter to you?"

"It does not, and it will not. But I will fight hard for myself and my liberties," she promised him. Her expression was unrelenting, a warrior's conviction. "We, Targaryens, do not run away in the face of adversity. I will find a way to adjourn this madness."

"But, Aemma—"

"I will, my friend. Trust in me."

He nodded urgently. "Then so will I. I won't let this slide. If I have to go to combat with another, I swear to you, I will do it for you."

He still couldn't find comfort in her faith. How could she fight generations of tradition? She was so little for all her spirited talks, but anyone could make her succumb with a twist of her wrist. He would become the only indomitable shield between her and all the lords of Westeros.

"Now come along," she said suddenly, leading him back to Driftmark castle. Her laugh was like a tinkle of bells. "I'm sure people are searching for us already. We must share this happy news with grandsire!"

Aemma talked his ear off about her pursuits and where they would begin their travels. She had him dreaming of golden beaches, palm trees, hot springs, cold sleets, exotic flowers—and of course, Vhagar. How they would soar the ocean, cross mountains, plunge down cliffs. Aemond knew these were pipe dreams, but he did not have it in himself to extinguish her fantasies. Let her dream, she'll soon forget.

Upon reaching the mouth of the exit, Aemma halted to mend her braids and gather her skirts neatly. Aemond chuckled at her silly fluster.

"Don't laugh," she mumbled. "It is unbecoming of a lady to wander about looking like this."

"Outrageous to assume you are a lady," he joked. She rolled her eyes and wet her thumb to wipe out the trace of dirt and soot across his face. It was no way to present his victory before his father.

He caught her wrist with a smug grin. "Leave it be. As evidence to my claim."

She dropped her hand, surprised. "You ride a dragon and the gloves come off."

As the pair entered, there, by the glowing fire lamps, the Velaryon brothers and Laena's two daughters waited for them, seething with rage.

"You all won't believe what Prince Aemond has just accomplished," Aemma began to gush to her audience.

"It's you!" Baela growled.

"It's me," Aemond dismissed, griping Aemma's hand in his.

"Sister, get away from him," little Lucerys cried out, waving her away.

She laughed him off. "Luke, settle down. Everyone, please—"

As Aemma stepped forward to pacify her brothers and cousins amidst the tension and attempt to wage peace, the six of them clashed and fell in rage. There were punches traded, screams, yells, and groans and it was all that Aemma noticed before she felt a sharp jerk on her ankle. She lost her balance and crashed into a jagged rock, face first. Her world went dark.

X

When Aemma eventually sought consciousness, her ears pricked at the raised voices, clamour, and daylight's blurry brightness. She called for her mummy, her voice thick with a wail. The aching in her head came rushing in, the memories, Vhagar, the brawl among her kin. The pain pricked her head like a thousand needles focused on a single point.

"Oh, Aemma. I'm here, right here," Princess Rhaenyra shushed when Aemma reached to feel the gash on her forehead. The princess clutched her daughter's hand tight to press a kiss at her pulse, stroking her hair.

"My brothers? Are they hurt?" she rasped. A sharp grit of muslin scraped against her temple—her mother had acquired an injury of her own. "What happened, mother?"

"I'm alright, my love. Just a scratch." Her mother's fingers massaged the back of Aemma's head. "I am glad you're awake. And that you can recall."

"Jace and Luke," she asked.

She tried to think, tried to speak again, but the pain refused to subside. She winced again and her mother rushed to soothe her temples. She called for the maester and within moments, Maester Orwyle had started to prod his instruments at her. A cream numbed the pain momentarily and Aemma felt like she could breathe again.

"My daughter will recover, maester," Princess Rhaenyra asserted. "Tell me she will heal."

"It's quite a feat that the princess has regained consciousness. The gash will heal, but the scarring will be irreparable. As for her other symptoms, we'll have to wait and see."

The princess gasped a sigh of relief. "Thank the Gods."

Maester Orwyle was silent for a beat before he spoke, "It is only right to warn you, your Grace, that the princess might suffer from recurrent headaches. It is soon to tell, but the wound is deep."

"Then we will see to it that she is given consistent treatment," she commanded, her tone austere.

"Yes, princess," the maester acceded.

"Sister!" Aemma's brothers bobbed into her vision when the maester left them, stroking her shoulders and neck gently.

"You still look lovely as ever, Emmy," Jace tried alleviating the least of her worries. "It's only a little scar. We can hide it with hair."

"Or not at all," Luke suggested cheekily. "You could flaunt your battle scar to all the realm. Like a knight!"

Aemma managed a weak smile and reached out to touch her brothers' faces, scrutinizing their wounds. Luke sported a broken nose and Jace's face was marred with violet bruises.

"We're alright, sister," Luke vowed, holding her wrist.

"Aemond," was all Aemma rasped.

Jace and Luke shared a look of appraisal with their mother. Rhaenyra only blinked away her deep thoughts and glanced at all three of her children. What could she say to them? Who knew what they wanted to hear? Good will? Faith? Strength? It had all gone to the wind now.

Aemma suddenly grimaced with a whine when the pain worsened, feeling her eyes drift close. "Ow."

"Luke, Jace, give your sister some space to breathe," the princess was quick to usher off. "You have found enough trouble today. Go rest up in your chambers."

Her mother kissed her one last time and left her to her slumber. It could've been hours until she heard the groan of old door hinges and another softer pair of footfalls by her bedside. Then her bedding dipped by her legs.

"Aemma," the familiar voice whispered.

She blinked awake, her groan coming to her. Her head felt too heavy to move. Aemond's tense face entered her line of sight and what awaited her stole her very breath away. She didn't have the words to think up what she saw.

"Aemond," she spoke softly. "Oh, no."

It was no casual injury, a serpentine line of thick stitches closed an irremediable eye from the world forever. Blood had crusted over the wound and swollen up to the size of limes, it looked like it hurt worse than her wound, but it didn't seem to quell the prince's spirit. He still fumbled his way to visit her.

"It's nothing," he lulled her, preventing her from touching him. He folded his fingers between hers instead. "Don't move your neck, I know it hurts. I had to see my friend one last time before she's set for Dragonstone again."

She hesitated to ask, "Your eye... is it—"

"It's gone."

Her lip wobbled. "I'm truly sorry."

He smiled albeit weakly.

"How?"

"It does not matter."

Aemma let her fingers be brushed by Aemond, resting it there and dwelling in silence. It felt pleasant, he was warm today. Eventually, he came to rest his head upon her pillow, careful to not upset her gash. He pushed a stray curl behind her ear. It was strange not to see her hair up in its usual braided glory.

"Can't you come with me back to King's Landing?"

She pulled on an animated smirk despite the stinging pain. "You have new adventures ahead of you, my friend. On your mighty dragon. You'll be a honed dragon rider the next time I see you."

He laughed faintly. "Our mighty dragon."

"I am proud to call you my friend," she promised hoarsely, her dark doe eyes wide with ease. She was tired, but she could spare him a little joy. "But this next road, you must go on by yourself. And you must tell me all about it."

"I still have your letters," he confessed. "Stories, more like. My favourite."

She giggled. "Then I will write more."

"You must call for me if you're ever forced into something you don't want," he forewarned her, holding her cheek. "You can only oppose so hard. I will come for you on Vhagar and we'll fly east together. We never ought to look back."

"My friend, do not fret for me," she breathed out.

"No, Aemma," he insisted severely. "Promise me, this time, that you'll heed my words."

"Nothing is going to—"

"Promise me."

"I promise," she said easily.

Aemond shook his head, insecurity plaguing his thoughts, before he rested his forehead against hers as gently as his touch allowed. This was different now, between them. He opened his eyes and watched Aemma, unbothered and real. Her warm breaths drifted around his unmarred cheek—oh, how he wished he could lay a kiss upon her head. A gift for their parting.

No, of course not. It would take an act of the Gods to take this away from him. His audacity was not lacking; it was what brought him his dragon.

"Promise," he repeated quietly.

X

you can continue to read part ii here! and here's my masterlist!

autocorrect, stop correcting 'aemond' to almond'.

first fic, whoop whoop!

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Paring: Harwin Strong x oc

Warnings: Swearing

4.02

Groaning, you push yourself up onto your elbows, squinting your eyes as you take in the surroundings of the unfamiliar room. Since you and Harwin arrived earlier than expected, the royal quarters you usually slept in weren’t prepared.

Understandable.

What wasn’t understandable was the large tapestry of the seven-pointed star hanging on the wall the bed faced. Your blood practically started to boil when you noticed the lack of symbols for House Targaryen and that they had been replaced with the symbols of the Faith of the Seven instead.

Originally you were going to travel with all your children and Harwin’s father; however, Daemon suggested only the two of you go since it would be rather difficult to get underneath the greenskins while looking after five children, which you agreed to at the time. Your children would be safer on Dragonstone, but you felt the absence of not being with them, and not even a day has passed yet. Baelon, who was still feeding from your breast, was the only one who accompanied you on the boat over.

You feel movement in the bed beside you as Harwin turns onto his side to be facing your direction. “My uncle will be furious when he sees what they have done.”

“Daemon is never happy,” Harwin grumbles.

That wasn’t strictly true, but your uncle did complain a lot for a prince. He only cared about three things: his family, the legacy of House Targaryen, and Caraxes. All three things intertwined with one another, which is how you knew he would be furious. “Organized religion and House Targaryen struggle to co-exist. To remove any existence of our house and replace it with only symbols of the faith is a direct insult.”

If Queen Visenya and Maegor the Cruel were still alive, they would either have burned the Hightowers or had their heads placed on spikes.

Giving you a lazy smile, Harwin kisses the palm of your hand. “Might I suggest you get rid of some of this rage before you run into anyone you dislike?”

“Perhaps you are right, dear husband.”

—

“Princess.”

“Ser Erryk, Ser Arryk,” you let out a dramatic sigh. “I thought you would have been old enough to go to bed at a sensible hour, or perhaps I’ve confused you with our nephew.”

Your brother snorts at the comment, although Rhaenyra’s son, who was only a toddler, would probably behave better than Aegon. Your brother was dressed in filthy, oversized clothes, smelled like a brothel, and had a bloodied lip. And could barely stand up straight. You didn’t care if Aegon spent his nights fucking his way through the streets of silk, but Alicent would most definitely not be impressed. Even though he was a man grown with children of his own, you still wanted to shield him from… his own family.

“You should get cleaned up, brother; the queen will be furious if she sees you in such a state.”

“Don’t pretend you’ve never snuck out,” he scoffs.

The two members of the king's guard look down at the ground. He had a point. But you couldn’t admit it. “I’m going dragon riding before visiting the king; care to join me? You could claim that awful smell is from dragon.”

“Why are you here?”

“To deal with Vemond.”

Aegon scrunches his nose up. “Who the hell is Vemond?”

“A man who has overstepped. He is petitioning for himself to be made heir to Driftmark, but he will be reminded rather quickly that Prince Lucerys is the heir.” When your already festering irritation starts to turn to anger, you change the subject. “I best go so I can be back in time to meet his grace, since I’ve been informed he does not get out of bed until midday. I do hope to meet you in the sky, brother.”

—

Harwin stands in the courtyard of King's Landing, gently bouncing his silver-haired babe in his arms while Vaella and Varos fly overhead. If the greens didn’t know they had arrived during the night, they definitely knew of his wife’s arrival now. “That’s your mother showing off her dragon-riding skills. Varos may not be the biggest, but he is formidable.”

He was glad his wife decided to let off some of her pent-up aggression beforehand. Varos lets out an ear-piercing squeal when another dragon approaches them in the sky, a golden one.

“Sunfyre is a gentle dragon.”

Hearing an unfamiliar voice, Harwin turns to see who’s standing behind him, and to his surprise, it’s Princess Helaena. “Princess,” he greets. “Princess…Jaehaera?”

Helaena smiles at her daughter, who was standing behind her holding her lady's hand. “Jaehaera is just on her way to her lessons. Her brother is already attending his morning one.”

Trying to do the math in his head, Harwin fingers out his youngest sister-in-law; she couldn’t have been older than four and ten when she gave birth to twins. Ada’s thirteenth name day was approaching, and he would never allow her to be married so young.

She was just a child.

“He is very small,” Helena says gently, gesturing to the babe who was now babbling away.

“That he is, but he’ll grow up to be a big lad like his brothers.”

Helaena’s smile suddenly drops, a haunted expression appearing across her face. She mumbles to herself, “You’ll lose one.”

Helaena disappears as quickly as she appeared, walking in the opposite direction with her daughter and handmaidens following closely behind.

When a dark shadow falls over the courtyard, he looks up and sees Vhagar slowly flying over the castle. It has been years since he saw Vhagar last, and the war-hardened dragon was even larger than he remembered. Harwin grits his teeth; the wording he would use to describe the dragon's rider would surely land him in exile.

Harwin suppresses a smirk when he overhears someone mention how Vhagar is the largest dragon alive.

He kisses the crown of his son’s head. “Come on, lad, let’s get you back inside.”

—

Unfortunately, your father isn’t alone when you step onto the balcony just off his royal quarters. Alicent, Aemond, and Otto are sitting at the table close by with their loyal hound Cole standing behind them. From what you gathered so far, your father was left to rot in bed most days, drunk on the milk of the poppy while the Hightowers overstepped and ruled in his place.

Your heart hurts with guilt knowing you could have done more to help prevent your father from being neglected.

“Father,” you smile brightly as you stroll towards him; not even glancing in the greens direction, you kiss him on the cheek before sitting down next to him. “It’s good to see you, my king.”

“Aemma,” he sounds short of breath. “You look just like Aemma.”

God, you missed your mother.

Doing a neck bow, Harwin says, “Your grace.”

Your father motions for him to come join you at the table. Out of respect for the king, Harwin greets Alicent but only offers a stiff nod towards the king's hand and Aemond. He doesn’t even acknowledge Cole.

Harwin places your son into your arms; you proudly introduce him to the king. “Father, this is Baelon.”

“A fine name,” weakly he strokes the babe’s cheek with his bony fingers. “A name fit for a prince indeed. He will no doubt be a great dragon rider like his mother."

“From what Daemon has told us, my sons and nephews strongly resemble my grandmother, Alyssa.”

“But you disagree?”

You nuzzle your nose into Baelon's hair while thinking; he was starting to fuss, which was unusual since he usually settles quickly in your arms. “Not entirely; my boys definitely have the same Targaryen spirit I was told she had, but when I look at Lucerys, I see my mother. He’s gentle like her.”

Jacaerys could match your twins with his fiery energy; even young Joffrey shared their fierceness. All of them were respectful and kind hearted, but Luke possessed a rare gentleness. When you look back up at your father again, you notice his eyes have glazed over; he was focusing on something to his left, but there wasn’t anything there aside from the wall of the castle. The king suddenly turns back to you, looking amused.

“Aemma, Aemma,” he rasps.

You take his hand. “No, Father, it’s Vaella.”

He chuckles to himself. “Aemma, I dreamed the girls had all grown up.”

You turn and look at Alicent, who has a sad expression on her face. Was your father always like this, or was he worse because of the amount of milk of the poppy the maesters forced down his throat? His mind and body weren’t this deteriorated a year ago. It was clear from the green's reaction that it wasn’t uncommon for him to become confused.

Harwin places his hand on your back and whispers, “Milk of the poppy takes days to completely leave the system.”

Alicent clears her throat and stands. “I think the king has exhausted—”

Your father struggles to sit forward in his chair, his eyes squinting as he looks off into the distance. “…Balerion…”

“Balerion has been dead for some time, your grace,” Otto says.

“I was there when my dragon took his last breath. Ser Otto, I remember flying on him as if it were yesterday. The black dread. Scales dark as night, eyes blood red, the largest of his kind alive. I can see him clearly as I did then.”

“His grace is not wrong,” Harwin gets up and walks towards the stone barrier of the balcony. “The dragon keepers are calling her the daughter of Balerion, the black dread come again. Tis Vaegon's dragon, Nightmare.”

“Gods be good,” Otto gasps.

Your jawline clenches. Daemon has been saying for years that Nightmare would be the Black's biggest weapon since the dragon became larger than Vermithor and was almost too large to reside in the dragon mount. Vaegon was not permitted to fly far during the daytime, which he never argued with because during the night he could fly freely.

Keeping a dragon that size a secret forever was impossible, which is why it was agreed that your boys would fly to the red keep together. But yet Nightmare was flying without Ashwing and a day early.

Nightmare might be fearsome, but his rider was only a boy.

[unholly-reader]

It should have been me - Daemon Targaryen x f!OC!

Hello lovely people!

Today we're going for a somber vibe, I had this idea walking around for my ff, but I just wanted to share this with you all. To all you sensitive creatures - I highly recommend a tissue nearby.

Enjoy!

[again - English is NOT my first language!]

Warnings: soooo much crying, little angst, little fluff, just Daemon being an emotional beast with anger issues.

********************************************

For weeks upon end Alanna awaited word from her lord husband, yet none ever came. The day he left for Harrenhal was the last time they spoke before she was left with their children to keep her company. This predicament wouldn’t have been as cruel had it not been for the tragedy that befell Alanna when she suspected it the least. Alyssa’s death hit her mother in more ways than anybody could anticipate. As hard as she tried to keep a brave face for her children, especially for Viserys as he had lost his other half when Alyssa was murdered, when night fell on Dragonstone and her darling boys fell asleep, all she did was cry. Fighting with the silent sobs crushing her chest like a mallet, Alanna Targaryen cried her heart out for her only sweet daughter until there were no more tears to cry. Only then she would stop weeping and stare at the wall as if she was someplace far away from the island. Her efforts to keep her children away from her own sorrows failed miserably the day Viserys walked in on her screaming on the floor as she held desperately onto the bloodied cloth that used to be Alyssa's favourite dress. Although he was a boy barely two and ten, he understood much more than his parents gave him credit for. He knew his twin’s death was the Usurper’s vengeance. He also knew that dragons do not forgive spilling the blood of their own kin. Despite his young age, Viserys bore his father pride and spirit like a shield for everyone to see. Many people would say he was a young prince Daemon reincarnated. When he overcame his own grief, which is too much to say for a boy of his years, he swore to avenge Alyssa’s death when the time came. That was the only difference between him and his father. Daemon never understood the importance of the right time. Viserys took after his mother, weighing when it was right to act and when inaction was the best course. 

Upon seeing his mother weeping her heart out, kneeling on the floor he ran towards her standing next to her and bending just enough so he could hug her shaking body. He felt his own tears falling down his pale cheeks but he couldn't care less. She needed the comfort just as much as he and his brother’s did. When Alanna realised it was her youngest son holding her, she tried to compose herself, clumsily wiping her tears away but when she looked up and saw Viserys’s face, she let it all go. She brought him closer into her embrace, clawing at his body like an anchor keeping her afloat. Viserys hugged her in return, snuggling his face into her golden hair just like he used to when he was younger. 

– I promise you, Mama. We will avenge Alyssa, I swear this to you. 

– Shh, my sweet prince. Just hold me, my sweet boy. Just stay here. 

Viserys listened to his mother’s pleas and stayed for as long as she held onto him. By the time the night came and the moon lit up the skies, Alanna was fast asleep in her bed with her youngest by her side. It was only when Rhaenys came by that Viserys woke up and slid out of his mother’s bed, careful not to disturb her sleep. He walked through the chambers, reaching the Princess by the entrance. He looked up at his aunt, eyes still red and puffy from the tears he shared with his mother that day. 

– The crying exhausted her. She needs the rest. 

Rhaenys felt her heart shatter for the young prince so bravely caring for his Mama. 

– As do you, my darling boy – she replied, wrapping her arm around his shoulder and gently bringing him into her embrace – Let us get you in your bed, dear. 

As much as he wanted to stay and guard his mother in her sleep, Visersy felt the exhaustion overtake his body. He was tired and grieving and had no strength left. The moment he hugged Rhaenys side, he felt himself fall into slumber. Having raised children of her own, the Princess quickly picked him up and he instinctively wrapped his ambler arms around her form. Quickly she left her half-sister’s quarters and moved towards the prince’s bedchambers. 

***

When Alanna stirred awake and felt the empty space beside her, she panicked. Fearing the worst she shot out of bed, her hair flowing down her back in messy waves and she sprinted out of her chambers. It was still dark outside, although a mist of sunlight was creeping from the horizon, bringing morning with its reddish haze colouring the eastern skies. Barely thinking about putting her shoes on she ran barefoot, frantically calling out her son’s name. Following her instincts she ran towards Baelon’s chamber where all her boys now resided and prayed she would see all of her four princes abed. It was nerve wracking and heart shattering, fearing for her children’s life every step of the way for now she knew the unbearable pain of losing one so cruelly. Her steps were light, yet heavy at the same time. Each one brought her closer either to her hope or her demise. She burst through the door like the lighting piercing the night and only then did she feel her heart slow down. All four of her sons were comfortably settled in Baelon’s bed, tightly pressed against one another and all four in deep slumber. Feeling her legs giving in Alanna leaned on the door frame, watching from afar as her boys slept soundly and more importantly, safely. Regaining her breath she retired from her eldest son’s quarters, closing the door behind her only to lean back on the wooden door and slide down to the floor. Tears once again stained her porcelain like face as she weeped silently, eyes wide open staring into nothing. Every time she thought she had cried all the tears her eyes held, the violet-like irises found another source of salty streams. It was a never ending nightmare where whenever she would open her eyes, she would be reminded of the life that could not be retrieved. 

Time seemed to escape her as she sat unmoving, almost resembling a marble statue. In what seemed like minutes the sun began to rise by the horizon, slowly creeping inside the castle walls. Alanna was almost cathartic when suddenly she heard a loud screech sounding from afar. At first she thought a mere ringing in her ear, irrelevant to what was happening in reality but when the sound roared the second time, she could not dismiss it. She knew that screeching all too well and if she was correct, her prayers had finally been answered. With little caution she stood up and let her feet guide her towards the tunnels leading to dragon caves hidden beneath the surface of Dragonstone. She hoped it was not her cruel imagination painting her a fool once again. Her ruby skirts flow behind her, sweeping the stone floors of the castle as she descended onto lower levels of the fortress. Hair in complete disarray and eyes puffy and red but all that mattered was running to meet him. 

All the guards she passed by bowed before her but she paid them no mind as she finally reached her destination the same moment a ruby red beast crawled inside the cave with her beloved black knight in its saddle. Caraxes gracefully flew towards the pier where Alanna stood, looking up in desperation and then landed smoothly. His rider took no time to slide down his mount’s back and onto its wing, running straight into Alanna’s open arms with a heart wrenching sob. The Rogue Prince held his Princess close to his chest, clawing at her velvet clad back with all his might. Having only heard about the tragedy that befell his family the previous day he flew relentlessly to meet his beloved wife. Now that she was in his arms all he could think about was how she had to watch his daughter’s blood pool at her feet and he was not there to protect his little girl. 

– Tell me it was a horrible nightmare. 

Daemon’s voice sounded so unlike him. So fragile and cautious, almost as if he was a glass figurine ready to crumble in the matter of seconds. Alanna could not mutter a single word so she just shook her head against Daemon’s shoulder, feeling her tears well up once again in the corners of her eyes. At her response he only weeped louder, burying his face into her golden hair. Almost simultaneously their knees buckled under the weight of their shared grief and they collapsed to the stone floors, holding one another as if their very lives depended on it. It was too painful for the both of them to lean back and see the rattling pain on their faces but eventually Daemon broke. He looked at his wife and his heart shattered a thousand times over seeing her perfect violet-blue eyes red and puffy, filled with tears that never seems to stop. All at once he noticed all the little details on her face. The little wrinkles slowly appeared in the corners of her eyes. The pink shade of her pretty lips. He also noticed the small cut on her forehead, now almost completely healed, but still visible to the naked eye. Suddenly his grief became irrelevant when his mind was overtaken by fuming rage. As gently as he could, Daemon reached his palm towards Alanna’s forehead, delicately brushing his fingers over the healed cut. 

– Did he do it?

Alanna just nodded, taking hold of his wrist in her smaller hand. Hre face was still pain ridden as she stared into his lilac eyes with fear shaking like a lonely willow. 

– He slit her throat, Daemon – she spoke quietly, her voice crumbling seemingly with each word – He took my baby and he took her life. I have her blood on my hands. I have Alyssa’s blood on my hands. I don't…

She began rumbling and talking frantically like a wheel that just keeps spinning, spiralling into her own madness. Daemon watched with horror as his beautiful wife tormented herself, relieving the horrifying events of the day they lost their daughter. Unable to stop the words spilling from her mouth, he did the only thing that came to his mind. Abruptly he grabbed both her cheeks and pressed a quick yet genuine kiss to her chapped lips. She still tasted like heaven but her tears covering her mouth made it bitter sweet. Gently Daemon leaned his forehead on hers, slowly calming her rattled presence. 

– Shhh, my light. You do not blame yourself. Do you understand me? You did everything you could. You fought as best you could. He could have killed you too. I could have lost you too. Gods, I cannot begin to imagine what I would do if he took you from me. I swear to the Gods, if he wasn’t dead already I would have taken his hands, his cock, his head for ever laying his hands on you and Alyssa. 

Alanna felt her heart flutter, trying to calm down, listening to Daemon’s voice but the demons hunting her never stopped. When she closed her eyes, she saw her little girl’s body drowning in blood. The vision haunted her every living second she breathed the air her daughter no longer could. 

– It should have been me, Daemon. He should have killed me, not my little girl. I should have…

– Don’t you dare! I forbid you – growled Daemon, grabbing her face sternly, looking into her tears stained eyes – Don’t even think about it. 

The Princess stared into her husband’s lilac orbs in silence. She could see all the feelings throwing him around like a puppet, the hurricane of emotions passing through his mind. She stilled in place, keeping her hands clasped on his wrists like a lifeline. He was mad and frustrated and above all furious, but hearing her say those things brought him over the edge. His voice barely above whisper when he spoke to her, his gaze piercing through her grief. 

– I will have Aegon’s head. I will cut off his worthless corpse right after I rip his heart out of his chest and I will make Alicent watch her son die in agony. Our daughter will be avenged but I cannot bear to listen to you saying such foul things. Don’t ever say you should have…

His words faltered much like his body still kneeling on the stone floors of the cavern. His strength shook in its very core as he caressed his wife’s cheeks almost too gently like she was a porcelain doll. His silence was so loud. No words were said and yet it was as if he was shouting at the top of his lungs. Like he was trying to find the words but faltered every time. Swallowing hard, he kissed Alanna’s lips swiftly, quickly looking back into her sparkly eyes. The eyes that became his everlasting beacon of hope. 

– I will forever mourn our daughter until the world crumbles in its foundation and all light is swallowed by the darkest depths of this realm. I could never forget the emptiness left in my heart that was once filled with her joy, her laughter, her life, but you cannot say you wish you took her place. I live for you, Alanna. I live because of you. My life has begun the day you gave me your love. If you die, I die too. There is no life for me where you’re not by my side. I don’t care about anything else. If need be, I will let this world burn for you so long you stay with me. My wife. My life. My light. My love.

[multific]

Blood and Ice

Aemond Targaryen x Viking!Reader

Warnings: mention of blood, murder, war, battle, torture

Summary: The mysterious North. Kept all Seven Kingdoms in fear, what could be lurking beyond the ice and snow? No one knew. Then their biggest fear emerged from the snow and ice, a new Kingdom, called itself the Eighth. Kings came together, forming plans to destroy this new rising Kingdom, but they failed to realize its true strength. An entire nation of warriors, bred from blood on the battlefield. All fearless and brutal, no one could crush them, so the Seven Kingdoms had to realize, if they wish to live, they will have to kneel in front of the people who called themselves the Vikings.

The North has always been a mysterious place for all Kingdoms, some never even dared to go close to its borders, the cold and harsh weather was enough to scare even the bravest soldiers away.

When the Vikings emerged from the North, all Kings held a meeting.

And they all agreed on one thing, they couldn't let this rising Kingdom become one.

Eighth? No one heard of such a ridiculous thing.

Armies were sent, the best of the best.

No one returned.

King Targaryen send his own brother, Daemon with his dragon to finally end this all.

Daemon barely made it back in one piece. He had been burnt and his dragon, Caraxes was lost in the war. Daemon never spoke of the horrors he saw. 

The Kings were lost, who can you send when the best had been killed?

The Vikings proved their worth, not bowing down to any King, and so Vicerys invited their King to Red Keep. 

All Seven were ready to give up and Vicerys, in order to lead the example for peace, invited the Viking King.

"We cannot and will not eat with the people who killed our own!" 

"I agree! King Vicerys, you must reconsider! At least we should plan a trap, invite them and kill them here!" all lords argued with the decision. 

"No one will kill anyone! We lost so many, too many! We will invite them, and celebrate their place as the Eight Kingdom, my son shall wed the King's daughter if he has one." 

Aemond felt a shiver run down his spine, marry a Viking? He looked at his mother who avoided his eye. 

But Vicerys had a plan, since the Vikings were so strong, they would be a great ally. And if his son marries the Princess, it will surely put such a strong army on his side.

Even if he wasn't the only one with a plan like this. He had heard the Vikings have been to previous Kingdoms before they accepted the invitation of Vicerys. 

The King was to arrive soon, Red Keep was ready, Kings Landing was ready.

They arrived riding horses with such armor, no one has ever seen anything like that. 

They arrived, looking just as fierce as the stories made them out to be. Sounds of horns following their path. 

They had their weapons, furs and leather.

Vicerys sat on his throne, waiting for the king.

Two young men arrived inside, the King was confused, where is the Viking King he requested?

He was ready to speak up when a woman walked in, following her a long fur as she walked over to stand in the middle of the room, she didn't talk as she looked around, seeing Daemon.

"Dragon riders." she finally said, with an accent no one heard before. Daemon heart it, though. The exact same voice who did this to him. "I remember you. Trying to burn us all, but I forgive you." you looked Daemon in the eyes as he nodded. 

"Who are you?" Vicerys asked, rather annoyed.

"I'm Y/N, Queen of Kattegat, Queen of all Vikings. You requested me to be here."

"I requested the King of the Vikings." you made a face at his attitude. Men.

"We don't have a King, it will either be me you congratulate for our win, or no one." the room went silent. 

A couple of tense minutes passed and Vicerys had to remind himself of his plan. It was clear to him you weren't married. So, his plan was still alive. 

A Queen might be more difficult to convince of marriage, but he believed his son could do it. Vicerys needed to ensure this connection, he needed these people by his side no matter what his real thoughts on them were.

"Apologies for the doubt. Congratulations on your win, Queen Y/N." you nodded.

"My most trusted, Ivar Ragnarsson and Hvitserk Ragnarsson." you pointed to the two men standing behind you as they slightly bowed to the King.

"Welcome to Red Keep. Hope your stay will be fruitful." as you were led away by a servant, Vicerys turned to his brother.

"You know her?"

Daemon nodded.

"On the battlefield, she looked like a man. Would have fooled me if she wouldn't have spoken. She killed my dragon, and almost took my life as well. Do not underestimate her." Daemon couldn't stay, leaving his brother and family behind, his eyes met yours as he was walking out, the same fear and shiver running down his spine as on the battlefield. 

Everyone was shocked. Daemon was a warrior, he lead many armies to victory and yet he ran away this time.

Ivar was laughing, nearly falling over as he did so.

"They didn't expect a Queen, and now look at him run."

"This is exactly what we fought for." you said as Ivar and Hvitserk nodded. 

---

Later, you were getting ready for the feast. King Vicerys promised a lot of meat and good wine. 

Then, a knock came on your door. 

"My father asked me to guide you to the hall for the feast." You looked at him, he was tall, thin, and he had an eye covered. You recall seeing him earlier that day.

"Do you bare any sweets?"

"I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't understand." Aemond was confused.

"Sweets to impress me."

"Impress you?"

"I'm not stupid, Prince. I know your father has to have a plan, either to murder me while my stay or to marry one of his sons."

"Aegon's married." Aemond wasn't sure why he said that. He would be a liar if he said you weren't intimidating. The things he knew about you on the battlefield and also you were an extremely beautiful woman.

"Then, he wants me to marry you. Sending you here, you are either to kill me or seduce me. So I assumed if seduction was your goal, you would bare a gift, sweets perhaps."

"I'm not baring any gifts."

"Unfortunate." you simply said before closing the door back in his face.

Aemond stood there, confused. 

As Aemond stood there, another man arrived at your door, Aemond nodded at the man as he pounded his fist on the door.

"Come on, Y/N! They said meat and wine! Remember?!"

"I remember Hvitserk, give me a moment!"

"Why do you have a... Prince in your doorway?" he asked as he opened the door, as if Aemond wasn't even right there.

"His father sent him."

"Oh, you wish to fuck her?" turned Hvitserk to Aemond before an apple was thrown at his face. "She's fierce, you might have to chain her down." He suggested to Aemond who could only watch the scene unfold.

He heard stories of Vikings, people called them savages, beasts who only knew the taste of blood. Crude and barbaric. 

But then why was he slightly smiling as he watched you bicker with Hvitserk? Why was this new side of the world so interesting to him? Why were you so interesting to him?

You sat next to Aemond and Hvitserk, Ivar never stopped smirking as the food was brought out. You slowly turned to Aemond, watching his right profile as he ate. 

"Do you have a dragon?" you asked and Aemond looked at you, he nodded once.

"As weak as the man's who ran?"

"My uncle you mean? Daemon."

"I care not for his name, he lost in battle and his ego couldn't handle it, I have no respect for people who cannot handle losing. You didn't answer my question."

"We all have dragons."

"We have wolves, but not all of us. I have one, her name is Hela, named after Loki's daughter."

"I'm not familiar with your Gods."

"I'm not familiar with your dragons. You wish to marry me?"

"I respect my father's decision. If he wants me to marry you, then I shall."

"You don't like answering questions right? I asked if you wish to marry me."

"I do not know enough to say yes or to say no. I know you humiliated my uncle on the battlefield and killed his dragon and many other men."

"To protect my home. We were attacked for claiming our rightful place in the world."

"Tell more about your victory."

"Which one?" you asked with a smirk as Aemond looked at you, smiling.

"Your best? The one you are the proudest of." now the entire table was listening as you looked around.

"It used to be a village, now it is a cemetery. I'm not too sure whose army it was, all I know is they bore blue flags and ravens on their chest pieces. Took us two days to get rid of all of them, and then one told us there are more to come. A boat would arrive soon. So, we took the ones still alive to the banks and tied all of them to a trunk, all were still alive when he erected the pole. When the boats were close enough, we lit the pole on fire. They screamed and yelled but the boats stopped. They fled without a fight."

"You tied people to a pole?" 

"You would be surprised, Queen Alicent, just how effective the cries of the fallen soldiers are. All begging for help as they bleed and burn while no one dares to take another step."

---

Dinner was... interesting. All of them looked at you with fear and disgust, which you quickly reciprocated when the music began and people started dancing.

"Are you not a fan of dance?" asked Aegon and you gave him a look.

"I have no idea how you can call that dancing." you said pointing at the people.

"Let us try." Aegon suggested, he was clearly very drunk and you knew what they spoke of him, yet you decided why not.

You danced your way while Aegon tried his best not to fall. You did laugh however a lot.

"This family is interesting." you spoke later that evening standing on your balcony as both Ivar and Hvitserk were there. "They are so broken yet they hold this facade. It will crumble as soon as their King dies."

"You want to take their land?" asked Ivar.

"Not at all. I want to take the only one who is capable. I do like the younger Prince."

"So, you will marry him?"

"No, he will marry me. He will come to Kattegat and be mine. And once all of his family is died, I will have the last dragon rider."

"So, you plan on collecting him like a beast?"

"I do have a wolf of my own. The only red one, correct?" both nodded. "He would be the same, the only difference is that he will be harder to get than a wolf."

"Why do you like that one so much?" asked Hvitserk this time. 

"He has an anger in him, something I have seen in myself every day when one of our own died. We have been attacked, we have been made fun of. But Hvitserk, who laughed when we gave them back the headless bodies? Who laughed when we burnt them alive? He has the same in him. He would make a good husband to me."

"Then it shall be." said Ivar. "If the Queen decided, it shall be. You take him as yours, we will have a dragon by our side in the future, and you will have your blonde prince." you smirked as Ivar spoke.

"I desire his other dragon, Ivar." you spoke truthfully and this is when both men decided they had enough. Although you weren't their sister by blood, they surely saw you as one of their own.

---

The next day, you were ready, ready for the hunt of a new kind of beast, one you haven't yet tamed.

A man.

A Prince.

A Targaryen.

You liked the challenge and you liked the fact that his father made it so easy for you.

The King made sure Aemond was always close to you, and today, he was supposed to show you around the castle and the gardens.

"I do like your brother." you spoke as you took a seat outside the castle, only the two of you.

"My brother?"

"He is so broken. So fragile and yet, everyone here is pretending as if he isn't. It must take a toll on him daily, knowing what is expected of him."

"You enjoy watching people suffer?"

"I wouldn't call it enjoyment, I'd say it interests me. The thing they say is the eyes are the windows to the soul. I prefer to know someone's soul."

"And what about me? What do you see in me?

"You would make a great Viking. You could be strong, lead armies if needed, help the people of Kattegat. You, Aemond, would be a perfect husband for me. Even if your father's plan is for me to marry you, you would marry me and the Viking life. I can see it in your eyes, you might want the iron throne, but what better throne to sit on than the one built with the bones of your enemies?"

"Are you tempting me?"

"You are not the kind to be tempted by breasts." Aemond looked at you, really looking at you, he saw how similar yet different you were to him. You then moved your dress ever so slightly down, making him see your breasts before smiling. "Okay, perhaps, you are one to be tempted by them but not for too long. You, Prince Aemond, would be the perfect Viking King, with me by your side. The Eighth King, my husband."

"Why are you doing this? What's your real reason? A Queen doesn't need a husband."

"I'm lonely. I am seen as a warrior, a shieldmaiden, even when all I want to be is a woman and nothing more."

"You tear men's hearts out and feed them to your beast." he pointed out a story you told during last night’s feast. 

"Exactly, I offer you my heart, Prince Aemond. My heart, my title and my bed. I have been to other kingdoms, met other Princes, your father is not the first to wish for me to marry their son."

"And you chose me?"

"As I said, I am interested in the soul behind the eyes. Do you not find me interesting?"

"I do." his reply was perhaps a bit too quick. "But it is no reason to marry."

"I agree. But it is something to build off of. You might argue that once I know your soul I would get bored, but would I, truly? I doubt it. I understand you more than you might think."

"I wish to rule, but not your Kingdom."

"My Kingdom is currently the strongest. All of your strong soldiers are gone, while mine are all standing. You wish for your father’s title? A title that has lost its power?"

"It has not lost its power. While you are correct, your Kingdom is thriving, the Seven are standing strong by your side."

"I guess then my question to you, Prince Aemond is, would you give up all this nonsense, all this drama about a crown which I could take in seconds and become your true potential? A true King. We both know your brother will be forced to rule. We both know he is not capable but your Mother will force him to. And if, only if, he dies will you get the throne."

"So you are offering me your Kingdom? I thought I was supposed to seduce you to marry me, not the other way around."

"Maybe if you weren't so difficult, I would have already done it. I want to be your woman, Aemond. But I do expect you to have the same loyalty to me."

"You are very... persuasive. You are such a beauty and you are also a great warrior. You are more than capable to be my wife."

A silence fell, a rather comfortable silence before you fully turned to Aemond. reaching out you touched the scar on his cheek. You could see he moved to take your hand away, but you spoke up.

"Why do you hide your eye?"

"It was my nephew, when I was young, cut me, I lost my eye."

"There you go again, not answering my question."

"I hide it because it looks hideous."

"Hideous? A scar? How can a scar that you received during a fight be hideous? Scars are proof of what we have been through, they show the world that people tried, but we survived. I have many as well. If it wasn't for the ridiculous dresses, I would show them off."

"You also have ink?" he said pointing at your arm where he could see the dark patch.

"Tattoos. Another way to show the world who we are... I won't tell you what to do Aemond, but I will say this, hiding your eye, your nephew will see it as a way of weakness. If you were to show it, it is proof that you are accepting it and embracing it. I should head back to my room, after a long day, I need to relax." you slowly stood up as did he. "I'll see you at dinner." you said before heading back to your chambers.

Aemond watched you walk away. Your words echo in his head "would you give up all this nonsense, all this drama about a crown which I could take in seconds and become your true potential?"

He looked back at the castle, and soon he would realize that not even the love of his mother would be enough.

During dinner and later, in his chambers he sat alone, thinking.

King of the Vikings.

Vikings, the most feared Kingdom and he would be their King. Suddenly, the throne made out of bones sounded a lot more intriguing than the iron.

And then there were you. A beautiful young woman, sure a bit older than him but even at that age you achieved so much. With you by his side, he no longer would hide his scar. He can see himself with you, a future worthy of him.

You as his Queen, him as your King.

"Your plan's working." spoke Ivar as you looked at him in your room. "Aemond... clearly deep in thought throughout the entire meal. I might go as far as to say you are as smart as me, My Queen." he said, sitting down with a cup of wine.

"Oh, is that so? That is probably the nicest thing you have ever said to me, brother."

"I have my moments."

"Odin is great, he will grant you your Prince. I can feel it. Kattegat will have a Dragon Rider for King. As we should. Father would be proud." Hvitserk nodded, agreeing fully.

"You proved yourself after his death, lead us to victory. We would follow you through Niflheim and back."

"Thank you." you said, smiling. "The decision is up to him now."

"He would be a fool not to take your hand... but we will see." 

---

"Queen Y/N." came the voice from your door in the morning.

"Enter." you said, not moving an inch on the bed. "I swear to Odin, Ivar, if you are here because of some silly reason, you will find my axe in your back."

"I'm not here for no silly reason, nor am I, Ivar." now that the voice was clear, you heard it was indeed Aemond, you moved a little as you locked eyes with him.

"The offer for my axe still stands. I do not wish to be bothered before the sun is up."

"The sun is up." he said, pulling back the curtains as the sun shined into the room making you groan. "You must get ready, breakfast is about to be served."

You moved to sit up, moving your hair out of your face as you yawned.

"May I ask why the Prince is in my room?"

"I was worried that you weren't down for breakfast. Your brother said you like to sleep in."

"So, you decided to wake me up?"

"Eating in the morning is important. So, yes, I have decided to wake you. Although... Ivar did say I would be entering a dragon's den by coming here."

You nodded before getting up and changing.

Both you and Aemond walked down, by the time almost everyone has finished their food.

After breakfast you and Aemond walked into the gardens again, you enjoying the sun which you get little of in Kattegat.

"I have a question, if I may."

"Go ahead." you said as you closed your eyes, enjoying the sun.

"I wanted to ask your hand in marriage. If you agree and become my wife, I wish to be your husband. I thought long and hard about our conversation from yesterday. And I am willing to leave this all behind, leave King's Landing and Red Keep. To be with you."

You smiled.

You would always get what you want, even if that is a Targaryen Prince.

"And your father? Would he agree with you coming with me to Kattegat?"

"My father would agree to anything if it means unity with your people." you nodded.

"And what do you wish for? The life of a Viking?"

"I'd like... you. I am still yet to see your people and your traditions, while I'm certainly open, all I can say for now is that I wish for you to be my wife. Not my father or mother's wish, but mine. You are fascinating, ruthless, fierce and fiery. If I didn't know better I would say you would be a dragon yourself." his hand reached out for yours and put them into his as he spoke. It was easy to see he spoke from his heart.

"Then during dinner, we can announce our engagement. And then in a couple days, we will head back to Kattegat." you smiled at him as your hand reached up to his neck, pulling him in for a kiss.

A kiss which made you feel like a real woman for once.

Not the killer Viking. Not the one who they kept writing songs about but a true woman.

Aemond just had that effect on you. And you loved it. It was a side of you that you had been hiding for a long time. You had to fight for your people, for your Kingdom, and so, after such a long time it felt nice putting on all the dresses, making your hair all nice and clean. You remember the first time you were invited to one of the Kingdoms. While Drone was beautiful and you certainly liked their wine, it wasn't what you felt when you first looked at Aemond.

The One-Eyed Prince as they called him and just how beautiful that one eye was. It was a clear window to his damaged soul.

Fascinating.

After dinner and your announcement to his family, you found him in your chambers, wishing to show you his eye.

"I must warn you, it isn't the nicest."

"I have been on the battlefield. I have seen people cut up, torn apart, limbs missing, and so much blood. I, myself even caused some of those injuries. I doubt a missing eye would scare me." 

But you weren't right. His eye was missing but in the place of it was a beautiful sapphire. 

"You are beautiful." you said as you ran your finger over the scar on his forehead.

"I look like a monster."

"Nonsense." you slowly moved your arm, pulling your skirt up until your thigh was visible, there Aemond could see a big scar. It was clear the once wound was rather deep. "I might have killed the dragon, but paid a great price for it. I have a similar one on my back and many many smaller ones." His finger ran down the scar with the same gentle touch as you did to his.

"You will be my Queen as I'll be your King." he raised your hand to his lips. His eye trails from your leg to your face. 

You gave him a nod as he leaned over to kiss you.

---

Although your relationship with Aemond started off as a desire to own, through the years it certainly grew into more.

You would call it love.

In the beginning, you wanted to own him so you can get to know his soul. The soul of a dragon was an interesting concept. But ultimately, you fell in love.

Aemond became a great man by your side, an even better husband, and the father of your daughter.

When his family finally bubbled over, and their war started, Aemond rode his dragon, wearing Viking clothing, as the proud Viking King he was.

Aemond took his revenge, killing his nephew and claiming his eye.

He was the last one standing, the last Targaryen, and yet, he never even looked at the throne, rather laughed at it.

You were right from the start. 

Aemond made a great Viking and an even better King.

After all, who wants to sit on an iron throne, when you can sit on one made out of the bones of your enemies?  

More Aemond

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ˇAO3ˇ

DO NOT STEAL, PLAGIARIZE, REPOST OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS

[lovelykhaleesiii]

Daddy’s Girl

HEADCANON

PAIRING: Dad!Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader | Dad!Aegon ii Targaryen x fem!Reader

WORDS: 1,774.

SUMMARY: Rough ideas of the Targaryen princes as fathers to their first, newborn daughters. 

WARNINGS: fluff, swearing, overprotective!Aemond, overprotective!Aegon, reckless Aegon, lactation kink, breeding kink, slight praise kink. 

A/N - Ya’ll knew this was coming surely... I can’t get enough of this domestic shit!!! Dad!Aemond has me in a chokehold and simultaneously, Dad!Aegon has my back arched, wtf do I do?!

AEMOND TARGARYEN: 

When Aemond saw and held his tiny little daughter for the very first time, it was like love at first sight. 

He didn't know how anything so small, so precious could bring out all these intense feelings in him, and yet here she was in all her glory.

She was the apple of her father's eye, they were obsessed with each other.

He actually wouldn’t fly her on Vhagar when she’s just a newborn, he would want to wait it out. Considering his first flight was very turbulent, he would never put his daughter at risk. 

She is his “byka prince” [little princess].

Aemond definitely selects her little outfits, if you both stroll around markets or attend royal visits to various other places, and he sees something he adores, he’ll buy it for her. If he sees a particular material/pattern and colour he likes, he orders the servants to have it made for his little princess. Even toys, he’ll have them hand-crafted, a small, hand-painted dragon for his little girl, it would be a miniature Vhagar. 

No doubt, he dresses her in the Targaryen colours or even occasionally Green, in honour of his mother. 

If she cries during the night, he’s usually the first to awake and check (he does not mind, one bit). He reasons with you saying “You did give birth to her, so your hard part is done now it’s my turn, issa jorrāelagon [my love].”

Immediately, she falls asleep after he cradles her for some time, sometimes you even hear him humming a song. On the off chance, that she doesn't settle, it’s often because she either is hungry and needs feeding, or she needs a nappy change.

Aemond would be so bad at nappy changes, although he’s willing to try and gradually gets the gist of it. He doesn’t mind the dirty work.

He loves to bathe his little princess, he only lets you and himself, maybe even Alicent if she’s free and willing to. 

Aemond would definitely do that skin-to-skin touch, when she’s a newborn: he wants her to get familiar to his touch and scent, in case he has responsibilities and duties he needs to attend to as Prince Regent. 

The thought of his daughter not recognising him or resembling him to a stranger terrifies him. 

Overprotective is an understatement. 

Aemond will literally kill anyone that even dares to hurt or speak ill of his daughter. 

Once she starts walking, growing into her toddler phase, she becomes more active and involved. She’ll literally fall and trip over herself (and you’ll be okay with it, and Aemond would just be losing his shit), and if another child is present, he’ll even scold them. 

If he sees a graze or cut or a tiny, spectacle of blood on her, it’ll be the end of the fucking world. 

Having lost his eye, he would never forgive himself if she ever has to endure pain or trauma like that. 

You try to reason with Aemond, that part of parenting you need to teach resilience and the ability to ‘bounce back’ although, Aemond’s not having it. So much to your disapproval, your daughter will definitely grow up spoilt and protected. 

Now that Aemond can hold her appropriately, and she can seat herself properly, he mounts her on Vhagar with him and take flight. At first, she's terrified of the height, although seeing how happy and comfortable Aemond is, she reads him so well and starts to enjoy it too. 

They literally have their own language, they can read minds. Aemond doesn't even need to ask or probe his little girl about what she wants, he just knows. Some water? Here you go. Some sweets? There you go, princess. 

He teaches her Valyrian at such a small age, as soon as she starts verbalising, that she eventually becomes more fluent than you. 

She definitely has Aemond’s Targaryen hair and lilac eyes, although your features, which Aemond fucking loves. 

He definitely takes care of her hair, has his own routine for it, just as he maintains his own. He even learns how to properly braid her hair. 

Aemond is so relieved and impressed that his daughter is not at all afraid of his missing eye, and the sapphire that replaces it. At times, she even tries to touch and grab at it, and he has to pull her away, otherwise she just smiles lovingly and laughs at him. 

She's the only one (besides yourself) that can genuinely make Aemond smile, like if he's having a shit day, as soon as he sees her (even if she's asleep in her cradle), that’s enough to warm him.

Aemond loves and accepts your body changes, he reassures you when you feel insecure, that your body performed a miracle, and that you grew his child effortlessly. 

He definitely watches you breastfeeding and has no shame: something about the way that only you can provide for her, makes him feral. 

The man has a lactation kink, 100%, once he knows he’s daughter has been fed, and now that she can start tolerating solid feeds, he spoils himself to your milk. He finds the sweet, creamy taste delicious. 

Nonetheless, he knows for certain he needs to have another child with you immediately, and won’t stop until he sees your belly swell. 

AEGON ii TARGARYEN:

Aegon would be so nervous having a little girl at first. 

The history with women that he's had and the poor treatment he had previously shown, he is aware was unacceptable and since having met you, he has changed.

Although, his past would haunt him regardless.

He did remain by your side during the birth, and when the maester declared a daughter, he was in a state of shock. 

He wouldn't completely withdraw himself from you nor the babe, he loved you too dearly to do that. And seeing how well you were with her, and how warm your daughter was with you, he slowly started to gain confidence in himself. 

You’d help him get used to holding her, demonstrating the correct technique, for she was so tiny against his body, he kept fearing that he’d drop her or hurt her in his grip. 

He actually even stopped drinking completely now, he didn’t want to risk being tipsy, in case he had to hold her.

Nonetheless, he became an absolute pro.  

He even begged to take her on Sunfyre with him, although you were still quite anxious for she was so small. 

Somehow, he convinced you for just a quick, short flight: he trusted Sunfyre with his life, and he knew the dragon would nurture and protect his daughter too. 

You would watch from the ground in complete silence, just anxious although, as soon as he landed and dismounted with the babe still nestled and settled in his arms, you were quite surprised.

Aegon would be so proud of himself, it boosts his ego. 

He would always regularly check up on her, even if he only just saw her 10 minutes ago. 

“Aegon she's been asleep in her crib for the past hour, nothing has changed, why do you feel the need to look?” 

He can’t help himself, you’ve come to find it’s as though a switch has flicked on for him, he’s become so protective over you and the babe, he can’t stand leaving you two alone. 

“But she needs me...” He’ll say, as he just stares at her asleep in absolute awe that he helped to make this angel. 

She definitely looks more like her Dad, soft, gentle features with the Targaryen traits. She literally looks like an angel. 

She has Aegon’s plump cheeks and he’s always just kissing and nibbling at them. 

Aegon loves how everyone fawns over her, including his mother. In a way, it makes him feel accomplished. 

Nonetheless, as soon as she’s more involved and interactive, she never wants to leave Aegon’s side. Like she clings to him throughout the day, and cries for him if he isn't around. 

You’ve come to accept that she's an absolute Daddy’s Girl, he’ll carry her around to his council meetings, and she'll bury her face in his chest or the crook of his neck when he tries to get her to greet other lords with him, although she’s too shy. 

Most of the time she even chills on his lap when he sits the Iron Throne. Listening and ordering his subjects for the day, she often remains unphased, although occasionally she’ll try to grab his attention by playing with his hair or trying to touch his crown. That’s when you come in and take her. 

On the days that she is not around, if he has urgent or serious matters to attend (no place for a babe), he feels so empty without her presence there, and feels something is missing. He itches to get back to you both. 

Aegon definitely struggles to be hands on, he hates the dirty work of nappy changes and sometimes begs for you to do it. Although, you both have agreements and take turns with bathing her, or if she cries in the night, Aegon does see to her (although struggles to awake and gradually gets to her).

As random as this is, Aegon would definitely have a Dad!bod and no one can change my mind. The drinking caught up although, his daughter sneaking in sweets to feed her Daddy whilst they chill on the throne doesn't help either. (Aemond will be the type to keep up with his regular training, Aegon struggles with all the responsibilities, although still trains not as often). 

You find Aegon blowing raspberries on his daughter’s stomach, and it makes her laugh like no tomorrow. 

He definitely tells you openly that he wants more children now. 

“Perhaps a son?” He suggests and you reassure him, that is completely out of your control and “Upto the Gods.” 

As soon as your healed from the birth, Aegon is fucking eager to get onto you, and his breeding kink shows. 

He moans how he can’t wait to see your belly swell with his child, another angel: he loves the idea that people will think scandalously of how quick you’ve become pregnant again. Aegon does not care though. 

He even prefers your postpartum body and idolises the changes: he loves how big your tits and ass are, only for his own pleasures.

During the night he'll leave his cock inside of you, making sure he seizes every opportunity to impregnate you. 

You are so proud of the father Aegon has stepped up to be, and you make it known to him, he favours your praise above anyone else. 

[sugutoad]

— IN PAIN AND LOVE

For my beloved @coffeebooksrain18 . This is a little thank you for listening to me ramble about Myrielle and Aegon and always being so supportive. You are the Aemond lover to my Aegon. My Myrielle to your Aelys. And obviously, My Criston Cole to your Alicent. So please accept this little smutty one-shot for Aemond and Riley’s oc, Aelys Targayen (who will definitely appear if you read The Red Queen by @ashblooddragons as Daemon and Reader’s daughter).

Summary: Aelys was furious at Aemond for ruining everything from her gown to her promise to her best friends heart. When confronted, she wants to drown him in the river of pain she is suffocating in, but a simple kiss (and more) is all it takes to calm the Princess down. WARNINGS: swearing, anal sex, violent thoughts and threats (its Aelys, duh) obsessive behaviour, fingering etc.

  Aelys clenched her jaw, the tips of her fingers grazing against her wine-stained dress. It had been a beautiful beige dress, adorned in silver jewels bordering the deep v-line (that the Queen and High Septon raised a brow at in pure disappointment — at least they could have had some sort of humility to hide their true feelings in a room crowded by so many faces that would haunt Aelys in her dreams), the fabric clinging on each and every one of her curves. So rarely did she ever wear gowns that weren’t shades of red and when she did, it was stained in a wine, dark as blood as it trickled down her leg.

Stupid Aemond. 

 Aelys had specifically told him to not cause any sort of commotion and he promised. He fucking promised and he broke it as if she did not matter. As if her words held no effects over him. Though the halls were dim-lighted, Aelys found Myrielle Vallici. The golden hair girl looked at her for a split second, her brows furrowed in confusion. Her hands were curled up in small balls against her azure dress, red smudged on her lips (Myrielle never smudged red berries on her lips). And then she was gone like a phantom in the night and the halls were dark once again without her friend's golden silhouette. 

 

 A part of Aelys wanted to scoff. To scoff at herself. It had been Myrielle who wanted to be perfect because her Father would be present. She had begged Aelys to not do anything, fully knowing that the Targaryen girl always had some sort of tricks hidden behind innocent smiles and twinkling violet eyes.

Aelys was cross about her dress. 

Aelys was mad at Aemond breaking what he swore. 

But Aelys was furious at Aemond for making someone she holds close to her heart upset. 

  She felt her knees buckle. Myrielle could have gotten hurt by her father because of her. Did she do anything else to make people suffer? Or perhaps it was the lack of what she did that always hurt people. 

 A chuckle builds up in Aelys’s heart at the thoughts clouding her head, the sound becoming giggles and bordering hysteric cackles.   

  Why should she care? She was a Targaryen. She was a dragon rider. How people felt about her has never bothered her, but the way Myrielle looked at her twisted a knife in her guts. And now every step she took, a trail of blood would follow her. She stretched out her fingers, the tips coated in red wine from her dress (it sickened her stomach. It looked like blood, yet it smelled so sweet. So sweet and so sickening) and placed her fingers against the bricked wall. The familiar, cool touch followed her in every step. 

 

 She knew every corner, every ridge and cracks on these walls. She could hold on to them and they wouldn’t let her fall down. Not like how Aemond let her fall. Not like how she let Myrielle fall. Her fingers gripped on one of the bricks, her ring fingers slowly moving along its corner.

 She held in her breath as an arm slithered across her back, fiddling with a jewel near her bosom. Long fingers grasped her arm, intertwining with her own fingers. 

 Aemond was so close. His breath danced circles around her neck and she felt a sting as he gently sank his teeth around her skin, sucking until a red blossom would emerge and then he would water it with his own tears.  

“Aemond, stop,” She asked, trying to run away from his touch, but her body betrayed her and sank deeper and deeper into Aemond’s arm. “Please.”

  A simple ‘please’ is all that it takes Aelys to put the One-eyed Prince under her order. “You are mad, are you not?” Aemond had the nerve to ask such a question! Aelys turned back at him, baffled and took a few steps back, the shadows of the dark halls wrapping her in. 

“You think I’m mad?” She chuckled, haunting violet eyes wide open. Before Aemond could open his mouth to say anything, she interrupted him. “You ruined everything!” Aemond had no right to say she was mad. He fought with Rhaenyra’s brood of bastards, he spilled wine over her dress and he was why Myrielle was so upset. Myrielle with her soft heart and teary blue eyes was fucking upset because of stupid Aemond. 

 He let out a simple hum, the sound so low that it stirred something in Aelys’ heart, cocking his head to the side and gritting his teeth against one another softly, his eye downcast. Aelys wanted to roll her eyes at him. It appeared as if Aemond did not care and if he did, he sure wasn’t letting it out. 

 Aelys shut her eyes, trying to block out every thought in her head. Rage was not an emotion she was a stranger to. Rage was her domain as it was her fathers. Like Daemon, she honed it better than any knife, waiting to lunge at anybody. She let her nails sink into her palms, trying to grab anything, but the dagger settled near Aemond’s hip, clothed in a leather pouch with gold embroidered around.

“Aelys, darling, ‘twas a simple tribute,” His steps echoed in the silent hall and he stood mere inches away from her. She craned her neck up and…. Well he had always been beautiful. Silver hair cascaded down his back, pulled back and showing each and every feature of his face. His face had always been otherworldly to her, each feature angular and carefully structured by the Valyrian Gods. It wasn’t the blue sapphire he hid behind leather patch nor his father’s periwinkle eyes (Helaena had lilac eyes, Daeron had his mother’s soft brown eyes and Aegon — according to Myrielle — had eyes that were ‘glossy lavender eyes yet they seemed like some sort of shade of pink with a brown lining around’ her friend would end up sighing happily). But even though she was a dragon through and through (unlike Aemond and his siblings with their Andal Mother), he made her feel small with the way he would watch her. Watch and examine each and every one of her moves carefully. She was a dragon caught in a trap. 

“You are stirred up for nothing.”

 Although the rasp of his voice would cause Aelys’ knees to buckle, something stirred in her heart. His fingers wrapped around her wrist, playing with it as if she weighed so little (she felt little again). His other hand reached up and he placed her chin between two fingers, his leather gloves itching against her skin. He lifted up her face, his thumb gently running alongside her jaw. 

 And she felt red. She might have called Aemond her other half before, but he did not understand her. He did not know her. He did not have the fucking right to play with the strings of her hearts and act as if he had done nothing. As an instinct of her anger, her hand lunged for his dagger. The hilt was in her hand at last. It was lighter than she had expected, a slightly rough texture, but in perfect condition. She flicked the blade in her hand, swivelling on her heel and pushing Aemond back, hitting the cold wall. Aemond stayed calm under her touch, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. She felt heat rise to her face. 

 Surely out of anger she thought in an attempt to think of anything else, but the cold hand placed on her back. She angled his dagger, placing it against his throat. She could go deeper until he would bleed. For him to be covered in red as she was seemed the only way that was deemed right in her eyes. But she couldn’t move an itch. Aemond had her laced in some sort of magic, his hand on her back, nails digging in her dress. A periwinkle eye stared back at him, and she could see his scar poking out his brown leather patch on his hollow cheeks. 

  He was a thing of beauty to her. A person who could harm so much yet love as much. A person who was blessed with both beauty and rage. Aemond’s finger went up to his neck, poking into the small distance between his dagger and neck and carefully held on to it. 

“I am sorry.”

 Aelys sucked in her breath at his comment. He was a liar just as she was. Perhaps it was their nature as humans who were cursed with Targayren blood to truly ruin everything. “You are not,” she hissed at him, her voice as sharp as a shard. “You are a fucking liar and I do not need you to say anything! I need- I need you to fucking keep your promise and stop saying sweet things to make me for-“

 He placed his lips on hers, not in the gentle manner she was used to, but this time Aemond kissed her roughly, devouring her whole. She was weak to none, but Aemond’s touch was as familiar and comforting as that of her Mother and Fathers. Her grip loosened on the hilt, Aemond hand intertwining with her and clawing on his dagger back before he let it drop to the floor. Aelys flung her arms around his neck, grabbing him in until he was a part of hers. Until he was hers and she was his. Aemond’s arm snakes around her waist, bringing her closer till she could breathe no more, her teats pressed against Aemond’s slender build. She let out a shaky breath, trying to let out a sound, as Aemond sank his teeth in her bottom bottoms, tugging on it before licking it once again. 

 Slender fingers delved in  her silver hair, tugging slightly. He held up her legs in his arms, letting her crumble in his touch. Aelys wanted to memorise the very print on his hand, his soft breath and the touch of his lips. He tasted like the wine Aegon forced him to drink earlier and she sucked and sucked on his lips until she was drunk with his touch. He held her gently now, as if she was the most frail thing ever and in that moment, she felt like a glass vase tipping off the table. But that softness only lasted a second before her back hit the wall. She wanted to rip Aemond open, to see his bleeding heart trickle down onto the floor. She wanted to see him bleeding and naked and hers. 

He wanted her to know that he was in control. 

 An unexpected whine leaves Aelys’ lips as he pulls himself away. “Do not leave.” She whispered softly to him. Aemond made her forget everything and he can not just leave her to be. Aelys knew it was not of his nature. Aemond closed his eye for a second. Aelys knew he was a sweet boy underneath all his nature. A man who was still a boy, listening to what she wanted. He snapped open his eye, a smirk playing across his lips.

“Beg.”

  Aelys’ eyes shot up at him. What a cruel joke. Aemond knew Aelys would never beg. She does not cry in front of others and only when she does, she denies the truth. She does not beg forgiveness from others. She was Aelys Targaryen, not some soft hearted girl swayed by a man’s touch or words. She stood up taller, her lips lingering near Aemond’s once again, but he only hovered. 

“I want you,” she breathed, begging him at last. The pleas almost felt foreign on her tongue. “Have me however you want, but do not hide yourself. Do not leave me. Please.”

 Aemond groaned at her words, a soft yet low sound from the back of his throat. His knuckles grazed Aelys’ cheek, so gently. Aemond’s behaviour at times still baffled Aelys, even though she had been his childhood playmate and the closest of his friends. He was always so gentle, yet he was so harsh. “Hmm, what should I do with you, ñuha jorrāeliarzy.” He craned his neck to the side, silver strands falling down his face. He licked his bottom tongue and Aelys held her breath. 

 His hand roamed down her leg, slowly while he kept his gaze at her. Slowly lifting her up, she wrapped it around Aemond’s waist, her hand digging in his hair. Aemond fiddled with her dress, the bottom white lace tangled in his fingers and his hand disappeared beneath her dress.

 Aelys let out an agonising sigh, her shoulders tensed as Aemond lazily stroked the heat of her flesh with a single finger before taking two of his fingers to open her fold. Aelys leaned against the cold wall as Aemond’s finger caressed her skin. Aemond stopped and she let her shoulders relax, the guilt of disappointment gnawing at her heart. 

 His free hand cupped her face once more and under the soft illuminating of the flickering light, his face once so hard, was soft and full of eagerness, a smirk, a smirk so unnoticed, but a smirk nonetheless plastered in his lips. “Tell me. Tell me how I should have you.” Aelys knew Aemond was not truly asking her, but simply toying around with her. 

 Aelys had Aemond before in the comfort of their bed, on his study table, the stables to speak of only a few, but everytime she was bare in his arms, she wanted him in every possible way. At her silence, she saw Aemond’s throat bob, as if he was scared of all the way he could have her and ruin her for all to see. She pressed a hand against his hand, the one editing at her fluttering entrance, and pressed tightly. “I want you… I want you to touch me.” Though a confident woman, she squirmed under his gaze, fair skin flushed pink at his touch. Aemond tilted his head, his middle finger tracing circles before sticking up his fingers and parting her. “I shall take you however you want, Ñuha zaldrītsos,” Aemond traced the skin, his slick finger moving forward before pulling out again. “I should have you kept here, locked in chains waiting for me to take you whenever I want.”

 Aelys bit her bottom lips to prevent any noise, a small smile on her face before nodding, her thighs trembling underneath. “Aemond, Aemond.” She couldn’t let his name stay hidden on her tongue once he added another finger, curling it toward himself. He thrusted deeper and Aelys threw back her head and cried in a feeling she still couldn’t quite describe. Pleasure was not the word for Aemond brought her so much more. Aemond pressed his head against her hers, the tip of his nose pushed down as it rested on her forehead before he kissed her forehead. “I shall tell you next time.” He huffed out something else, something like an apology, but not quite yet Aelys never heard a word, her back arched back. She wanted him. She needed him. 

 “My Aelys, may I?” His breath was as shaky as hers. She nodded, a bit too quickly, her hands fiddling with laces of  his breeches, undoing all that was tangled underneath. Aemond lifted up her second leg, both wrapped tightly around him, and she felt something hard nudge against her. She was still clothed fully, but underneath she was bare and flushed for Aemond to take. For Aemond to rip open and to let her be born again and he would take her again. And shall anyone see them, she shall gladly show them how Aemond belonged to her.

 Giving her only a moment, he rolled his hips into hers and she let out a hiss, throwing back her head. She held tighter as skin parted at his tip and he let out a groan. “Oh Gods,” He let out. “You take it so well, my love.” Aelys blinked back tears, her hands flung around his neck, bringing him as she could, only whimpering at Aemond’s words. Aemond was breathless, thrusting deeper into her. She rolled her hips slightly to match Aemond’s quicker tempo, her palms sweaty against his skin. 

“You were made for you, y’know,” He muttered in her shoulder, his teeth sinking in her shoulders once again, grating along her skin which was a constellation of red peonies. “No one else, but you.” 

 “Only yours.” She murmured in the silence. She was made for him. Perhaps when the Gods had created Aemond, they had taken his soul in half to give to another. To give to her and it with him where she is not a puzzle with her missing piece. Aelys let out a noise — somewhat of a mix between a moan and a whine when pressed himself in harder, his rhythmic actions almost now savage. Aelys cried out, her nails digging in Aemond’s neck and a metallic crimson coating the tips of her fingers.  

 Aelys’ eyes fluttered, her mouth agape as black dots filled her vision. Aemond grinded into her once more before heat blossomed from below. She hid her face in Aemond’s shoulder, refusing to let him see the crimson on her face. Aemond huffed a laugh, a wild glint in his eyes. “Gods, you are so perfect,” he stopped for a second before letting her go on the floor, his hands lacing back his breeches. “Do you forgive me?” 

“Yes.” She almost felt as if she was lying, he had not asked for her forgiveness, but he looked so hopeful at her that she couldn’t let the truth escape her lips. Fluffing down her dress, she looked up at him, still breathless, but with a smile covering her face. She traced a line down her husband’s chest, a sudden confidence blooming in her heart. “Shall we continue this…. My husband ?” She batted her lashes at him, bursting into little giggles at Aemond’s smirk as he tilted his head towards her.  Taking her hand into his, he smiled.

 “Of course, my wife.” 

  With each little step, she felt as if she was swinging and dancing in his arms. Reaching towards the halls that had been used, unlike the vacant one they had just been in, she fell into Aemond as servants rushed back and forth, the hallway a little maze of its own. And in the middle, was Myrielle, her face covered in her hands as she violently sobbed. 

 Aelys left Aemond, her heart beating so loud she swore that anyone could hear it even in this chaos. Holding her friend in her arms, Myrielle looked up at her, her once blue eyes now rimmed pink and red. Before Aelys could mutter anything to soothe Myrielle, the girl with the sun in her hair looked up at her, her voice trembling.

“Uncle Viserys is…” she hiccuped at the mention of the King. “Is dead.”

[novaursa]

Hello, could I order a Targaryen Dareon x Reader Velaryon They are ex lovers She did not speak to him again after Lucerys' death. She even married Jacerys without loving him, but she did so for his dever. But Dareon still Loves her but he can't just give up. Reader is a warrior personally trained by Raenys and has Canival, a dragon that should never have been tamed, capable of hurting the enemy Vhegar. He would probably be able to kill her if she didn't retreat. reader invades his thoughts he misses her his kisses his hands his body He knows that even if she gets hurt, she will put duty over love. how to stop someone like that who is not afraid to give his life for what he believes

Scorched Hearts

- Summary: You meet Daeron after years of silence.

- Pairing: velaryon!reader/Daeron Targaryen

- Note: The reader is only daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor and is bonded with Cannibal. For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top. I hope this was what you had in mind. 🙂

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff

The air is filled with smoke and the acrid stench of blood. The shrill cries of the dying echo through the battlefield as you soar above it all, atop Cannibal, the ferocious black dragon, your bond with him forged in fire and fury. You look down at the chaos below, your eyes cold and hardened from years of war. This is no longer the realm of nobles and courtiers; this is the battlefield, where only the strong survive.

Tumbleton is aflame. It’s a trap, you know it. The Greens had been waiting for you, baiting you with fire and screams to draw you into this mess. They knew you’d come—knew you could never resist the call of battle, the call of vengeance. Cannibal growls beneath you, his enormous wings cutting through the air, his rage mirroring your own. You tighten your grip on the reins, your jaw clenched in grim determination.

The army swells below, but you're not afraid. You've faced worse odds. You’ve trained with your grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, herself a warrior and dragonrider. You’ve battled Aemond and Vhagar, forced them to retreat. But the past weighs heavily on you, the wounds that have never quite healed. Lucerys... The memory of your brother’s broken body flashes through your mind like lightning. His death had been a turning point for you, the moment you had truly hardened, cutting ties with the part of you that dared to love.

Including Daeron.

The thought of him stirs something deep within you, a flicker of something long-buried. Daeron Targaryen. The ex-lover who still haunted your dreams despite all the years of silence. You never spoke to him after Luke’s death. You couldn’t. Not after everything.

But there’s no time to think of him now. Not when you have a battle to win.

Cannibal lets out a roar that shakes the very air around you as you dive, flames scorching the earth beneath you. Enemy soldiers scatter, their green banners fluttering in the chaos. The Greens are like ants beneath you, but you see it too late—the trap.

Spears launch from the ground, ropes suddenly tangling around Cannibal’s wings, pulling taut. The dragon roars in fury, thrashing, but it’s no use. You feel the jerk as the nets tighten, dragging Cannibal down. You curse under your breath, feeling the inevitable pull of gravity. You’ve been caught, the Greens had planned this.

Before you can react, Cannibal crashes to the ground, shaking the earth beneath you. You’re thrown from his back, landing hard on the ground, your sword clattering from your grasp. Groaning, you try to push yourself up, but rough hands grab you, dragging you across the battlefield. You struggle, kicking, but the soldiers are many, and your body is bruised from the fall. You can feel the cold steel of chains being brought toward you, hear the laughter of your captors.

And then, suddenly, everything changes.

The ground trembles beneath you, a shadow sweeping over the battlefield as another dragon descends. You know that dragon—Tessarion. You don’t have to see him to know it’s him. The blue scales gleam in the dim light, and your heart clenches in your chest.

Daeron.

You look up, breath catching in your throat as he lands in front of you, dismounting with swift grace. His white hair is tousled from the wind, his violet eyes blazing with fury. He shouts, barking orders at the soldiers dragging you. 

"Let her go!" His voice is a whip crack, commanding, cold.

The soldiers hesitate for a moment, unsure, but his gaze burns into them. They release you, backing away as if they’ve been scorched. You scramble to your feet, breathing heavily, staring at him—this man who you once loved, this man who still makes your heart ache despite everything.

Daeron steps toward you, his face a mask of fury. "What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing, treating her like this?" His voice is low, dangerous, as he turns his wrath on the soldiers. "If any of you ever touch her again, I will feed you to Tessarion myself."

They scurry away, leaving the two of you alone on the blood-soaked battlefield.

You meet his gaze, your heart hammering in your chest. It’s the first time in years you’ve been this close to him, and the air between you is thick with all the things left unsaid. His eyes, those familiar eyes, search your face, and for a moment, he looks like the man you once knew. The one you had loved so fiercely.

"Y/N," he murmurs, and his voice is softer now, almost pleading. He steps closer, reaching out as if to touch you, but then he stops, his hand dropping to his side. "I thought you were dead."

You don’t know what to say. Your throat feels tight, and for a moment, all the pain and anger you’ve buried threatens to rise to the surface. You try to shove it down, try to remind yourself of why you left him behind. Why you married your brother Jaehaerys out of duty, not love. Why you chose to forget the way Daeron’s kisses felt, the way his hands moved over your skin, the intimate moments you shared beneath the stars.

But standing here, facing him now, all of that seems impossible to forget.

"You shouldn’t have come," you say, your voice rough with emotion. "You should’ve let them chain me."

He shakes his head, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Do you think I could stand by and let them hurt you? After everything?" His eyes lock onto yours, filled with something raw and unspoken. "I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not for a single day."

The words hit you like a physical blow, and you take a step back, your chest tightening. You want to deny it, to tell him that it doesn’t matter anymore, that too much has happened. But the truth is, you feel it too—the pull, the undeniable connection between you.

"You should have stopped," you say quietly, your voice trembling. "We’re on opposite sides of this war now, Daeron. There's no place for what we were."

He steps closer, his voice a whisper now, filled with longing and regret. "We could’ve been more, Y/N. We were more once. And I would’ve given anything to have you back."

You shake your head, your throat tight. "Lucerys is dead. My brother is dead, and I can’t—" Your voice breaks, and you turn your head away, unable to look at him. The weight of everything—the war, the loss, the love that never died—presses down on you, threatening to crush you.

Daeron’s hand finds your arm, gently turning you back to face him. "I know," he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. "But I’m still here. And I still love you."

The world seems to fall away, the sounds of the battle fading into the background as you look at him. His face, etched with years of pain and longing, is so achingly familiar. You remember his touch, the way his lips felt against yours. You remember the nights spent in each other’s arms, before the war tore everything apart.

For the first time in years, you feel the urge to close the distance between you, to let yourself remember what it felt like to love him.

But you can’t. Not now. Not here.

"I can’t," you whisper, stepping away from him, the weight of duty pulling you back. "I’m not yours anymore, Daeron."

His eyes darken with sorrow, but he doesn’t move to stop you. Instead, he watches as you turn away, his heart breaking all over again. 

And as you mount Cannibal, his roar filling the sky, you feel the ache of what could have been, of a love lost to time and war.

[two-white-butterflies]

As Lovers Often Do - c.5

Description: Alyssa Strong was born to be Aemond's wife. As the dance occurs, certain consequences are levied upon her.

"An eye for an eye. A son for a son."

series masterlist | part four

“She would take him to faraway lands to observe foreign ways, so he could get closer to the strangeness within himself.”

― Fatima Mernissi

"You've been sending letters to my mother?" Alyssa peeked her head inside of Queen Alicent's solar - to see her lover casually lounged upon the leather seats. "Nothing but conversations that siblings ought to have," Aemond humored - eye flickering towards her direction. In all the years of seeing Alyssa, her beauty never ceased to amaze him. "How is the babe? Have they come out?" she inquired, settling beside him and resting her head on his shoulder.

"Not yet, but the midwives say that it is soon." he responded, forgetting about the book on his lap - giving her his full attention. "My mother has always been strong - this pregnancy does not seem to have a toll on her. I worried about her, truthfully. The gods have never been kind to our kin." she breathed, inhaling his scent of cinnamon.

He grimaced at the thought of pregnancy. His mother had a hard time carrying Daeron - it was her last pregnancy. He's also heard stories about Queen Aemma - giving birth took her life. A Targaryen Princess' battlefield is the birthing-bed. "It is a price that we pay," he could only respond. "Enough of babes - rather, let's talk about the progression of your relationship with my mother. I never thought I'd live to see the day that you'd two get along," she chuckled.

She gathered her gowns - taking a small step towards the table that held all the beverages. She fills her goblet with wine even though it was far too early to get drunk. "I could say the same thing, Isa. It comes as a surprise - I never expected Princess Saera to be civil." he stopped the words that were coming out of his mouth.

Her eyebrow raised, taking a sip of her wine. "What do you mean by that?" she asked - and he froze in his tracks. He's been taught that his half-siblings were enemies - that the only person that he could rely on was his own full blooded siblings. Rhaenyra wanted the throne; his mother said, and she wouldn't hesitate to kill their family. But Rhaenyra was different from Saera, right?

"There's always been a war between Queen Alicent's side and Queen Aemma's side. A silent one - I-I always assumed that Princess Saera would take Princess Rhaenyra's side."

"She wishes to remain neutral, I assure you. But what is there to fight for? Aunt Rhaenyra is made heir to the iron throne - it's been six and ten or six and seven years since the birth of Prince Aegon. If muñazma wanted him as King - he would've already done so." Alyssa was quick to apprehend.

Her relationship with Rhaenyra was always - stale, but having her aunt as Queen would be a wonderful precedence. It would show that women especially in this country had a right to society. A right to raise their voices and rule kingdoms. It was pure Valyrian prowess - and it was why she admired the older woman.

"The people of Westeros do not like her?"

"You mean the lords of Westeros? There are as much ladies in court than there are lords - we prefer the Princess Rhaenyra. That is of course, assuming that she isn't the only choice."

Recognizing that it was a losing game, Aemond only smiles. He'd lose everything if it meant being loved by Alyssa. He'd change himself. Love makes you want to be a better person - but it also gives you permission to just be yourself. "Is there something that you are not telling me, Aemond?" Alyssa inquires and he shakes his head.

A decision already formed in his brain - when the time comes ... when his father dies. He will bend the knee to his older sister. It was the right thing to do - the only thing that would make Alyssa happy.

"Nothing, merely politics."

(ALYSSA II)

I always knew that my uncle had a terrible habit of hiding his feelings. He would sooner put the realm to torch than tell me what he truly felt. He promised me a few fortnights ago that he'd ask my mother for my hand - marry me in the traditions of our house, but he hasn't done that yet. He's told Queen Alicent - but not my mother. He's afraid of her and Uncle Daemon.

I've also noticed another thing about my uncle; he's made of fire and gold. While other Targaryens are purely forged of fire - never forgetting, never forgiving - he has a cursed aspect to him. According to my mother, gold came from a star in the sky - it crashed down into earth and engulfed this planet with that beauty. It was a cursed beginning - and thus its existence was also cursed.

People fought for gold - people killed for gold.

Aemond is exactly that; cunning, chivalrous - but also homey. He knows his limits as a man. I could not stop loving him.

My mother whelped again sooner after - a girl. Her name was Viserra, after the doomed daughter of King Jaehaerys. The bards sing about her joyous nature, always smiling even as a babe. The King joked that I had finally found a worthy rival; I mused and joked in return.

But in truths, I felt replaced.

I was half-Strong - but this girl was a pure dragon.

"Will you visit your parents in Dragonstone, child?" my grandfather turns to look at me and I nodded. "Yes, I've been itching to see Viserra. I wonder who she looks like the most?" I replied with a smile.

Yes, I did feel replaced - but I was happy because I finally had a younger sibling. "Our men write that the birth was difficult. Have you asked Daemon about Saera, husband? Will Viserra be their only child?" Alicent asks her husband - cautious as always.

"Ah, yes. The birth was difficult but Saera affirms that they want more children. She has always been a responsible girl. She will pull through." Viserys talks about his daughters with joy - an opposite to the way he looks at his sons. "All is well then?" I ask and the King nods happily. "You know, your mother was about your age when she married your father." Viserys remembers, I freeze.

"You should already be searching for suitors, child. Fulfill your duties as a princess of the realm." Viserys teaches; I could swear to hear Alicent mumble 'lady' in correction. "There are still many things that I wish to achieve in this life, your grace. My lessons are not yet done." I reasoned, this was going to be something I regretted.

"For gods' sake. Have lovers - be happy. You are a Targaryen." he encouraged, much to the dismay of his wife. "That is not something a lady should do," Alicent argues with a scowl. "- it is about time that we engage Aemond with Alyssa. Mend the bonds that have been broken and unite our family." Alicent said something right for once.

"I will give you an ultimatum, Alyssa. Five years - find someone that you'll cherish - and if not, we'll make that choice for you." Viserys concludes, the Queen's eyes relax for a moment. "It is very important that we give the children their own choice - I've learnt that the hard way." Viserys chuckled, taking a sip of his milk of poppy.

"It was basically an indirect approval," Alyssa opened her mouth and Aemond seemed to be deep in thought. "First of all, congratulations on the birth of your sister. Second of all, I've already told my mother." Aemond comforted - seeing that surprised look on his beloved's face. "Why don't you tell my mother?" she questioned and he took a deep breath.

He looks to the side.

"I'm not exactly what your mother would want for you to wed. Didn't she promise you to love in a beautiful house near the sea? I've got no land, no rights, no titles of my own - what face can I show your parents? What face can I show the Lady Regent of Harrenhall or the prince that wields that Dark Sister?" he told himself.

In short words; he was not yet worthy of Alyssa - but he plans to be. "You are a Prince and ... I love you." she tilted her head. He seemed to be surprised too. It was the first time she's ever told him that. "You love me?" the sides of his mouth turned upwards. "You know what I mean - I see a future with you. A safe and comfortable one." she expanded - but the smile does not leave his face.

"You have to go through the formalities first - touring around the realm in search for a suitor - even though you've already found the one... Let me ask you something, Isa. When do you plan to get married?" he inquired and she shrugged. "Mayhaps a year or two from now?" she concluded and he nods.

"My mother has already been negotiating our engagement with Lord Larys - they're finalizing it. Making sure that it's perfect so that Princess Saera would have no choice but to agree. Of course, I've started being friends with your mother a few weeks ago."

"Calm down, Aemond. You're thinking about it too much. My mother has always adored you - she's always loved her siblings regardless." Alyssa reassured. "I am thinking about this too much indeed," he breathed. "Take care of the details, Aemond. I'll deal with the delivery." she placed a hand on his shoulder.

He was adorable.

"Marriage! By the gods. When I spoke to you about marriage, I did not assume that you already had your mind set." Viserys took a sip of his medicine. It always a pain to look at his oldest granddaughter. She looked too much like Aemma - but to hear that she already made her own decision, it reminded him of his own mother. "But do not tell my mother, please." she takes a step forward, staring deep into her grandfather eyes - that often looked like a mirror of her own.

"Oh my dear, do not pull me into trouble that I did not begin." he raised a finger and she sighed. "My mother is sick with childbed fever. I'm afraid that the news would shock her and be detrimental to her health. Please kepa, keep this secret for a few months - or at least until she gets better. Then, I will tell her myself." she promised - feeling that familiar anxiety gnaw at her bones.

She loves her mother - but she would not approve. Saera has loved Daemon since she was a child - but getting married young was wrong in her eyes. Her mother wouldn't approve - not even the King could stop her. "Alright, alright." the King relented, feeling his knees buckle at the weight of his own body.

"But I expect that you keep your distance from Prince Aemond until your engagement is formally announced."

>> next chapter

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A/N: I'm sorry for not updating in months. I had to take a step back after my boyfriend cheated on me to the thought of his cousin. (His cousin is a wonderful human being, and I admire her.) Please do not comment hate comments about him since we're still in the process of talking about things and such... I just hope that I'll look back on this one day and have a good laugh.