#aegon fanfic

[hisfavegirl]

The Twisted Truth - Aemond Targaryen x SisterWife!Reader x Aegon Targaryen.

Summary : story from aemond's side, when he could only stay silent without doing anything because he had destroyed you.

Aemond stood there, his gaze fixed on the door that had just closed with a final, resounding thud. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths, but his heart was anything but calm. His jaw tensed, the muscles in his face twitching as his eye remained locked on the space where you had once stood.

The warmth of your presence had left with you, and now the cold, empty stillness of the room pressed down on him. The glow of the fire flickered weakly against the stone walls, casting long, shifting shadows that danced like ghosts. For a moment, he remained perfectly still, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides.

He should have called you back. He knew it. He could feel the weight of the words that had sat heavy on his tongue — words he’d never allowed himself to say. Stay. You’re the one I want. It’s always been you. But he’d said nothing. He had stood there, silent as the void, and watched you walk away.

His fingers uncurled slowly, and he ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots with frustration. His breath came out as a sharp, quiet hiss. He hated this — hated himself for it. For all the control he prided himself on, for all the restraint he wielded like a weapon, he had never felt more powerless than in that moment.

His eye flickered toward the chair he’d been sitting in, the firelight catching the sapphire in his missing eye. The glow reflected back at him, cold and distant, like the man he saw every time he looked in the mirror. His gaze fell to the floor, the ghost of your footsteps still echoing in his mind.

You called for the part of me that reminds you of her.

Your words echoed louder than any battle cry, sharper than the edge of his sword. He could still see the way your eyes had burned with fury — not fear, never fear — and for a moment, he hated how much he admired that fire in you. You were the only one who had ever looked at him like that. No fear, no pity. Only anger and pain, as raw and real as the scar on his face.

He moved toward the chair, gripping the back of it so tightly that his knuckles turned white. He leaned forward, his head bowing as his breaths came out in slow, controlled exhales. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to push it all down, to bury it the way he always had. Control. Discipline. Restraint. The words his mother had instilled in him from the time he was a boy.

But this time, it wasn’t so easy.

His fingers twitched, and he slammed his fist against the chair’s back with a crack loud enough to echo through the room. His breath came harder now, his chest heaving with every inhale. Why didn’t I stop her? The question burned through him, over and over. The answer was simple. Too simple.

Because you’re a coward.

He swallowed hard, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling, his lips pressed into a grim line. His mind was a battlefield, warring between pride and longing. He had spent his whole life being second, being overlooked, fighting for recognition. And here you were — you, the one person who had always been there. You, who had loved him despite the monster the world saw.

And he had let you walk away. Again.

Minutes passed in silence, his breathing slowly evening out as the flames crackled behind him. But the cold remained. No fire could chase it away, not now.

Get up. Go after her. The thought clawed at him, loud, demanding. His feet shifted slightly, his body halfway prepared to move. But then his gaze dropped to the floor, and his hands relaxed at his sides. No. Stay. She will come back.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

But deep down, he knew the truth.

This time, you might not.

Aemond strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, his steps purposeful but slow, as if weighed down by thoughts too heavy to carry. His face was a mask of calm, but behind that facade, a storm brewed. Each echoing step reminded him of what had just transpired with you — the look in your eyes, the defiance in your voice, and the ache that settled deep in his chest.

He hated it.

He hated how much he wanted you.

But he could never show you that. Not fully. He couldn’t bear to appear weak in front of you, not when he was supposed to be your protector, your husband, your equal. To love you so openly, so vulnerably, felt like surrender. And Aemond Targaryen did not surrender.

His feet led him to Helaena’s chambers. The guards stationed outside gave him a small nod before opening the door for him. He stepped inside, the warmth of the room washing over him like a blanket of familiarity. The soft hum of Helaena’s voice filled the air, humming a tune known only to her.

She sat by the window, her head tilted as she watched the world beyond. The light from the window haloed her silver hair, giving her an ethereal glow. Her hands toyed with the strands of thread from her embroidery, her fingers moving in a steady rhythm. Her gaze was distant, lost in a world far beyond the confines of the Keep.

Helaena turned her head at the sound of his footsteps, her lilac eyes blinking slowly, as if waking from a dream. A small smile tugged at her lips, soft and genuine. “Brother,” she greeted, her voice as gentle as the flutter of moth wings.

Aemond’s tense shoulders eased just slightly. He didn’t return the smile, but his gaze softened. He approached her slowly, standing just behind her chair, watching her in silence for a moment.

“You should close the window,” he muttered, his voice low, as if afraid to disturb the stillness of the room. “The cold air will make you ill.”

Helaena turned her gaze back to the window, her fingers playing with the fabric of her dress. “The cold doesn’t bother me,” she replied dreamily, her eyes fixed on something far beyond the horizon. “It reminds me that I’m still here.”

Aemond frowned, but he said nothing. Instead, he stepped forward and gently pushed the window shut, blocking out the cool night breeze. He lingered by the window for a moment, staring at the glass as if searching for something beyond it. Your face lingered in his mind.

He turned back toward Helaena, who was now gazing up at him with curious eyes. She tilted her head, studying him like one might study a strange creature they’d never seen before. “You look troubled,” she said simply. Her tone wasn’t one of pity or concern — it was a statement, plain and certain, like she already knew the answer.

“I’m not,” he replied curtly, but his gaze shifted away from hers.

Helaena’s smile widened, not with joy, but with understanding. She knew him too well. “Liar,” she said softly, looking back down at her embroidery. Her fingers moved steadily, threading the needle in and out of the fabric with delicate precision. “You only come here when you’re troubled, Aemond.”

He clenched his jaw and approached her again, this time sitting in the chair across from her. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together as he stared at the ground. The warmth of the fire nearby cast long shadows over his face, highlighting the sharp planes of his cheekbones and jaw.

For a long moment, they sat in silence, the only sound being the soft crackle of the fire and the steady rhythm of Helaena’s needlework.

“You and she look the same,” he muttered suddenly, his voice low but steady. His eye didn’t meet hers — it stayed fixed on the floor, as if the words were too fragile to be spoken directly. “Sometimes, I forget.”

Helaena’s hands stilled, her gaze flickering back to him. She didn’t say anything, didn’t move, just watched him.

His fingers flexed as he leaned further forward, his head hanging low. “But you are not her,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. His eye flickered up to meet hers, and in that moment, there was no wall between them, no mask of pride or strength. He was just a man — a brother — looking for solace.

“No,” Helaena agreed, her voice quiet but firm. “I am not.”

Silence stretched between them again, but it was not uncomfortable. It was the silence of two people who understood each other without the need for words. She returned to her embroidery, and he sat back in his chair, tilting his head up to stare at the ceiling.

“She hates me,” he muttered after a while, his tone bitter and filled with something closer to regret than anger.

Helaena didn’t answer at first. Her hands paused for only a moment before she continued sewing. “She doesn’t hate you,” she said finally, her eyes never leaving her work. “She hates that you hide from her.”

Aemond closed his eye, exhaling slowly through his nose. Of course, Helaena would see through him. She always did.

“Do you hate me too?” he asked, his voice quieter now, like a boy afraid of the answer.

Helaena glanced up at him, her lilac eyes soft, patient, and kind. “No,” she said simply, with the certainty of someone who had never hated anything in her life. Her gaze softened further, a smile tugging at her lips. “But I pity you.”

He flinched, his hands curling into fists, but he didn’t argue with her. Because deep down, he knew she was right.

She tilted her head toward him, a curious smile on her face, as if she could see something he couldn’t. Her fingers paused their sewing once more. “You should tell her, you know,” she said, her gaze locked onto his face. “She’ll forgive you.”

His eye snapped to hers, hard and sharp like a blade unsheathed. “It’s not that simple.”

“Isn’t it?” Helaena asked, tilting her head like she was watching an insect crawl along her windowpane. “Love is simple, Aemond. You make it difficult.”

He said nothing, just clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms. The warmth of the fire did nothing to chase away the cold in his chest.

Helaena sighed softly, as though she had seen too much of the world already. She returned to her embroidery, the soft snip snip of her needle filling the air. “You can’t love me the way you love her, brother,” she said quietly, not looking at him. Her voice was distant, like she was speaking to herself more than to him. “No matter how much you try.”

His throat tightened, but he didn’t answer.

Because it was true.

He didn’t love Helaena. He never had. He loved you. But it was easier to sit here, in the quiet glow of Helaena’s room, with her gentle smiles and soft words. She didn’t ask him for things he couldn’t give. She didn’t challenge him or look at him like he was a man made of stone.

With you, it was different. You saw him for who he was — sharp edges, broken pieces, and all. And you loved him anyway. But he didn’t know how to love you in return without feeling like he was giving you too much of himself. He didn’t know how to be soft with you, how to be vulnerable without feeling like he was crumbling from the inside out.

So he came here. To Helaena. Because her softness was safe.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

Aemond sat there for a long time, watching Helaena sew. His gaze grew distant, his mind elsewhere. But no matter how far his thoughts wandered, they always circled back to one thing.

You.

He could see your face so clearly in his mind — your eyes filled with fire, your voice sharp with defiance, your hands warm against his. His heart ached with the weight of it. The weight of wanting you.

He knew where he should be.

But still, he stayed.

Aemond’s laughter echoed softly in Helaena’s chambers, a sound so rare that even she tilted her head in surprise, gazing at him with a curious smile. It wasn’t often that he allowed himself to laugh so freely, so unguardedly. His usually tense shoulders had relaxed, his lips tugged upward in a way that softened the sharp edges of his face.

But something shifted.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, a strange feeling of being watched creeping over him. His gaze instinctively flickered to the doorway.

And there you were.

Standing in the open doorway, your face half-lit by the glow of the fire. Your eyes, usually so full of resolve and fire, were red-rimmed with unshed tears. You looked at him as if something inside you had broken. Aemond’s breath caught in his throat, his eye widening as realization washed over him like a cold wave.

No. Not like this.

Before he could rise, before he could say your name, you spun on your heels and ran.

“Wait—” he rasped, his voice hoarse and desperate, but the words caught in his throat. His body tensed, muscles tight as if ready to chase after you, but his feet stayed rooted in place.

He didn’t move.

He couldn’t move.

His gaze lingered on the now-empty doorway, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. His heart pounded furiously in his chest, the echoes of it louder than the crackling fire. Why didn’t I move? The voice in his head was cruel, sharp, and unrelenting. Why didn’t I run after her?

His hands curled into fists on his knees, his nails digging into his palms until he felt the sting of pain. Coward, he thought bitterly. You’re a coward, Aemond.

“You should go after her,” Helaena’s gentle voice broke the silence, her tone as soft as ever but firm with quiet understanding. She didn’t look at him. Her eyes remained focused on her embroidery, her fingers threading the needle with the same delicate precision she always had. “Before she decides you’re not worth chasing anymore.”

His jaw tightened, his teeth clenching as he forced himself to look away from the door. It’s not that simple, Helaena. It never had been.

But deep down, he knew she was right.

He had watched you walk away from him too many times before. But this time felt different. This time, he’d seen the hurt in your eyes, the betrayal, the quiet resignation of someone who was slowly letting go.

And it terrified him.

“Brother,” Helaena said softly, her gaze finally lifting from her embroidery. Her lilac eyes met his with quiet clarity, a knowing look that sent a sharp pang through his chest. “If you let her go now, she won’t come back.”

Her words struck him harder than any blade ever could. He stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the stone floor with a harsh scrrrrk. His eye was wild now, like a cornered beast. He glanced back at the door, his breathing unsteady.

He wanted to chase you. He needed to chase you.

But the fear was there too — the fear that, this time, you wouldn’t stop running.

Aemond walked slowly through the darkened corridors of the Red Keep, the cold stone beneath his feet biting through his boots. The torches lining the walls flickered, casting long, shifting shadows that seemed to follow him with every step. His breath was shallow, his mind a storm of confusion and doubt.

I can’t lose her. I won’t lose her, he repeated to himself like a mantra. His jaw was clenched tight, his single eye flickering with something between desperation and resolve. But no matter how many times he repeated those words, the path forward remained unclear.

He found himself in front of Helaena’s chambers before he even realized it. His gaze lingered on the door, his heart pounding harder than it should. He wasn’t sure what he was searching for — clarity, comfort, or perhaps just a moment of peace from the chaos in his heart.

He pushed the door open without knocking. The soft creak of the hinges echoed in the quiet room. Moonlight spilled through the tall window, bathing everything in a silver glow. The air smelled faintly of lavender, the familiar scent easing his nerves just a little.

Helaena sat on the edge of her bed, her head bowed as she hummed softly to herself. Her fingers gently traced patterns on the fabric of her dress, lost in her own little world. But when she felt his presence, she lifted her head, her soft eyes meeting his.

“Aemond,” she said gently, tilting her head in that familiar, dreamlike way. “What troubles you, brother?”

He didn’t answer at first. His gaze remained fixed on her, but something was wrong. His eye lingered on her face for too long. The curve of her lips, the softness of her features, the familiar silver hair that framed her face. His breath caught in his throat.

She looks like you.

His heart twisted in his chest. For a moment, everything blurred. His tired mind, strained from sleepless nights and unspoken emotions, began to play tricks on him. He blinked, and for a brief, aching second, it wasn’t Helaena he saw. It was you.

His breath grew shallow. The confusion took root in his mind like a poison. His exhaustion whispered lies to him, clouding his vision. His heart ached, his chest tight with longing. He took a step forward, eyes searching her face as if she were a mirage.

“You’re here,” he murmured, his voice low and broken. He reached out, his fingers brushing against her cheek. The warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips sent a jolt through him. His hand lingered, cupping her face as his thumb gently traced her cheekbone.

Helaena blinked, confusion flickering in her eyes. “Aemond, what—”

“Don’t speak,” he said softly, his gaze full of something raw and desperate. His breathing was uneven, his fingers trembling ever so slightly as they tangled in her hair. “Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

He leaned in, his forehead pressing gently against hers. His eyes squeezed shut, his heart pounding wildly in his chest. His mind was a whirlwind of emotions — love, regret, anger, and longing all crashing together at once.

His lips found hers.

It was soft at first, hesitant, like a man who feared he might break the very thing he loved. But then his grip on her tightened, and the kiss deepened, more frantic, more desperate. His mind screamed at him, She’s here. She’s finally here.

Helaena froze beneath him. Her eyes widened in shock, her hands pressing against his chest as if to push him away. But Aemond didn’t stop. He was lost in the illusion his mind had created — a world where you were his, where you loved him without doubt, without hesitation.

“Stay with me,” he whispered between kisses, his voice hoarse with emotion. His hands roamed her back, pulling her closer, seeking warmth, seeking solace. “Please… don’t leave me again.”

But reality snapped back into place like a blade driven into his heart.

“Aemond,” Helaena gasped, her voice sharp this time, her hands pushing harder against his chest. “Stop. It’s me. It’s Helaena.”

Her words struck him like thunder.

He froze.

His breath hitched, his lips hovering an inch from hers. His eye snapped open, and for the first time, he truly saw her. Not you. Her.

His heart stopped. His body went rigid, his hands still on her back, still holding her close. But it was not you in his arms. It was not you who he had kissed. His mind reeled, horror settling in his chest like a weight too heavy to bear.

He stumbled back as if burned, his eye wild with disbelief. His gaze darted from her face to his hands as though he were trying to rid himself of the feeling of her touch.

“Helaena…” he breathed, his voice hollow, broken. His back hit the wall, and he gripped his hair with both hands, tugging hard as if the pain might wake him from this nightmare.

Helaena stared at him, eyes filled with shock and sadness. Her fingers brushed her lips, her brows drawing together in a frown. “Aemond…” she said softly, her voice laced with confusion and pity.

“No,” he hissed, shaking his head violently. “No. I… I thought—” He cut himself off, his breath coming in shallow, sharp gasps. His heart was thundering in his chest, a wild, untamed drumbeat of guilt and confusion.

His eye darted toward the door. His throat tightened. He could see it so clearly in his mind — the image of you standing there. Watching. Seeing everything.

What have I done?

He shoved himself off the wall, his face twisted in pain, his gaze filled with regret. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, nails digging into his palms. He took one step toward the door, then another. He had to find you. He had to explain. He had to fix this.

But as he reached the door, he froze.

What if you had seen it all?

His breath caught in his throat, panic swelling in his chest like a rising tide. If you had seen him with Helaena, seen him kiss her — no, you wouldn’t understand. You would think it was love. You would think he had chosen her. You would think you had lost him.

He staggered back, his eye wide with horror.

“No,” he whispered to himself. I can’t lose her.

But it was too late. He could feel it in his bones. The vision of your tear-streaked face haunted him, the pain in your eyes, the way your lips would tremble as you held back sobs. He knew it as clearly as if it had already happened.

He turned toward Helaena, his face a mask of anguish. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said, his voice sharp, almost pleading. His gaze burned with desperation, his eye wild and frantic. “Please, Helaena.”

Helaena didn’t answer right away. She simply stared at him, her hands still lightly pressed to her lips, her eyes distant and filled with sadness.

“I won’t,” she said quietly, her gaze soft but unyielding. “But you should tell her the truth, Aemond.”

Her words cut deeper than any sword. He turned away, his chest tight with pain, shame curling around him like a noose.

“I can’t,” he muttered, his voice hollow. He glanced at the window, where the moon hung heavy in the sky. His face was cast in silver and shadow, his features sharp with grief. “If I tell her, she’ll never look at me the same way again.”

“Maybe,” Helaena replied softly, her gaze never leaving him. “But if you don’t… she’ll never look at you at all.”

Her words struck him like a blade to the heart.

He left without another word, his footsteps quick and uneven, like a man fleeing from a battle he knew he had already lost. He didn’t know where he was going — all he knew was that he had to find you.

But when he reached your chambers, the door was closed. He stood there for a long time, his hand hovering over the handle. His heart pounded harder than it had in battle.

Knock, he told himself. Open the door. Apologize. Tell her the truth.

But he didn’t move. His hand dropped to his side, his gaze darkening. Not tonight, he thought. Not like this.

He turned away, his face a mask of cold indifference, but inside, he was crumbling. For the first time in his life, he knew fear — the fear of losing you.

And as he walked away, the only sound was the faint echo of his footsteps in the dark.

Aemond’s footsteps echoed through the stone halls of the Red Keep, each step harder and faster than the last. The whispers of the servants clung to him like a curse. “She left Prince Aegon’s chambers this morning,” they had said, their voices low but sharp enough to pierce his mind.

His jaw tightened, his breathing heavy with barely restrained anger. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat fueling the fire of jealousy and betrayal burning within him. He didn’t slow down until he reached your chamber doors. Without knocking, he pushed them open with a sharp creak.

You sat in front of your mirror, calmly brushing your hair as if nothing in the world could disturb you. The golden glow of the midday sun highlighted the softness of your features, but there was nothing soft about the cold, sharp presence that had just entered your room.

Aemond stood there for a moment, his one eye locked on you. His chest rose and fell, his breaths shallow and uneven. His face was carved from stone, his lips pressed into a hard line, his gaze sharp with accusation.

“You think this is how you repay me?” His voice was low but laced with venom. Each word was as sharp as a dagger. He took a step forward, his long strides bringing him closer to you. “You think this is fair? After everything I’ve done for you, after everything I’ve endured for you—this is how you choose to answer me?”

You paused your brushing, your eyes meeting his reflection in the mirror. Calm. Unshaken. But your grip on the brush tightened. “I don’t owe you anything, Aemond,” you said softly but firmly. Your voice was steady, unlike his. “Not after what I saw in Helaena’s chambers.”

His face twisted with frustration. He took another step toward you, his fists clenched at his sides. “What you think you saw is not what it was,” he snapped, his voice louder now, his patience hanging by a thread. “You see one moment, and you think you know everything? You think I would betray you with her?”

You turned, finally facing him directly. Your eyes burned with something deeper than anger — hurt. Raw, unfiltered pain. “Don’t lie to me, Aemond,” you said, your voice cracking but still strong. “I saw you with her. I saw you holding her. Smiling with her. You have never looked at me like that.”

His breathing grew heavier, his lips twitching as if he wanted to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. He stepped closer, his gaze locked on yours like a predator watching its prey. “I never touched her the way I touch you,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. “Never.”

You raised your chin, eyes unwavering. “And yet, you touch her at all.”

Silence fell between you, thick with unspoken words, unshed tears, and untold truths. He stared at you like a man lost in a storm, searching for a way out but unable to find it. His chest heaved with shallow breaths, his fingers twitching like he wanted to reach for you but knew he couldn’t.

“You shouldn’t have gone to Aegon,” he muttered through gritted teeth, his gaze filled with something more than rage — desperation. “You shouldn’t have done this to me.”

You stepped closer, your eyes locked on his, unyielding. “I only gave you back what you gave me, Aemond.”

His face twisted with something between pain and fury. His breathing grew louder, his jaw clenched so tightly it looked as if it might shatter. He took one more step toward you, his body mere inches from yours.

“You belong to me,” he hissed, his eye blazing with intensity. “Not him. Not anyone else. Me.”

“Then prove it,” you shot back, your eyes filled with tears that refused to fall. “But you can’t, can you? Because you don’t even know how.”

His face fell for a moment, his lips parting as if he might finally say something honest. But, like always, he said nothing. His hands remained at his sides. His body stayed rigid. His words stayed locked behind his clenched teeth.

And then, slowly, he stepped back.

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his eye flickering with something unreadable. Then, without another word, he turned and walked toward the door. His steps were slow, almost hesitant, as if he was waiting for you to call him back. But you didn’t.

He paused at the doorway, his back to you, his head tilted down slightly as if in thought. His fingers curled into fists at his sides, his shoulders tense with everything he wanted to say but couldn’t.

“You saw what you wanted to see,” he muttered, barely loud enough for you to hear. Then he walked away, leaving you standing alone in the quiet of your chamber, the sound of his footsteps echoing long after he was gone.

Aemond sat on the edge of Helaena’s bed, his hands resting on his knees, his gaze fixed on the ground. His silver hair hung loose around his face, casting shadows that made his sharp features look even harsher. Across from him, Helaena sat quietly, her hands resting on her stomach, her eyes distant as if she were somewhere far away.

Her breathing was uneven, shallow, and her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her sleeve. She wasn’t afraid of the child growing inside her — no, she had faced that before. Her fear was something deeper, something far more personal.

“She’ll think it’s yours,” Helaena whispered, her voice so soft it almost disappeared into the stillness of the room. Her violet eyes, identical to yours, flickered with worry as she glanced at Aemond. “You know she will.”

Aemond lifted his head, his gaze hardening. His jaw clenched as if he were biting back words that threatened to spill. Slowly, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, his fingers clasped tightly together.

“Let them think what they want,” he muttered, his voice low, rough, and filled with quiet fury. “The truth is not theirs to hold.”

“But it is hers,” Helaena replied, her gaze unwavering, her eyes filled with a sadness only she could understand. “She’ll believe it, Aemond. She saw you here with me that night. She saw the way you looked at me.”

Silence hung between them like a noose, suffocating and tense.

Aemond’s eye darted to her, his face hard with frustration. “She saw only what her mind wanted her to see,” he hissed, his voice sharp like the edge of a blade. He pushed himself to his feet, his movements rigid, his hands curling into fists at his sides. “If she had stayed— if she had listened—” His voice cracked, and he stopped himself, breathing deeply to regain control.

“But she didn’t,” Helaena said softly, her gaze dropping to the floor. Her fingers rubbed slow, nervous circles over her stomach. “You let her walk away, brother. You always let her walk away.”

Her words were a dagger to his heart, and Aemond felt the pain sharper than he’d ever admit. He knew it was true. He had watched you leave that night. He had watched you cry. He had seen the pain in your eyes and done nothing. He told himself it was for the best, that you needed to calm down, that you’d return.

But you hadn’t.

And now, the whispers in the halls had grown louder. The maids spoke of you leaving Aemond’s chambers in tears and seeking solace in Aegon’s company. Every word of gossip reached his ears like a hammer to his skull, and every mention of your name alongside Aegon’s made his blood boil.

He hated it. He hated him.

His eye turned back to Helaena, and for the first time, he saw his sister not as a reflection of you, but as herself. She looked so small, so fragile, yet braver than anyone gave her credit for.

“This child is Aegon’s,” Helaena said, her eyes filled with certainty. “But she won’t believe that.” Her eyes met his once more, her gaze piercing. “She’ll believe it’s yours.”

Aemond exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping with the weight of it all. His hand reached up to press against his face, his fingers rubbing at his temple. He felt the coldness of the sapphire where his eye once was.

“Then I will tell her,” he said finally, his voice steady but cold. “I will tell her everything.”

Helaena tilted her head, watching him closely. “Will she believe you, brother?” she asked softly, her gaze filled with something close to pity. “Or has she already decided to believe someone else?”

Aemond’s breath hitched, and he stood there, frozen. Her words echoed in his mind, louder than the whispers in the hall, louder than his own thoughts. Has she already decided to believe someone else?

The image of you with Aegon flashed in his mind. He could see it so clearly — you brushing past him in the hall without so much as a glance, your hand resting on Aegon’s arm as you laughed at something he said. It wasn’t real, but it felt real. It felt real because he knew what jealousy tasted like, and it tasted like ash on his tongue.

His eye burned with something dangerous. “No,” he said through gritted teeth. “She is mine.”

Helaena didn’t respond, only lowering her gaze as if she’d already seen the ending to this story. She cradled her stomach gently, her lips pressing into a thin line.

“Then you better make her believe that, brother,” she whispered. “Before it’s too late.”

The sound of Aegon's laughter echoed through the chamber, sharp and mocking like the clash of steel. Both Aemond and Helena turned toward the doorway, their gazes meeting the sight of Aegon leaning casually against the frame, his arms crossed, a twisted grin tugging at his lips.

"Quite the scene, isn't it?" Aegon drawled, slow and deliberate, his eyes filled with mischief and malice. He clapped his hands together lazily, the sound reverberating off the stone walls. "The dutiful husband comforting his dear sister, all while his sweet wife runs to me for solace."

Aemond's entire body stiffened, his fingers curling into tight fists at his sides. His jaw clenched so hard it ached, but he didn't move. Not yet. His eye stayed locked on Aegon, cold and calculating, the storm brewing behind it barely contained.

"Do you want to know what she said to me, brother?" Aegon asked, his grin widening as he stepped further into the room, his boots clicking against the stone floor with an infuriating rhythm. "She begged me. Begged me, Aemond." He tilted his head, eyes gleaming with wicked delight. "Her voice was so soft, so desperate. 'Make me forget him,' she said. Over and over, like a prayer."

The air in the room grew colder, heavier.

"Shut your mouth, Aegon," Aemond hissed, his voice low and venomous. He took a step forward, his movements slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking prey. His eye never left Aegon's face, watching every twitch, every smug smile that only fueled his rage.

But Aegon didn't stop. He lived for this-he always had. Pushing people, testing them, until they broke. And now, he was pushing Aemond.

"She didn't want to think of you anymore," Aegon continued, his smile sharp as a blade. He raised his hand, dragging it lazily through his silver hair as if recalling a fond memory. "You should have seen her, brother. The way she clung to me, the way she moaned when I touched her-"

Aemond moved faster than anyone could have seen. His fist collided with Aegon's jaw, the impact echoing like thunder. Aegon stumbled back, his laughter turning into a grunt of pain as he crashed against the stone wall. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, his eyes wide with shock before they filled with rage.

"You dare hit me, brother?" Aegon spat, his grin gone, replaced by a snarl. He shoved himself off the wall, advancing like a drunk lion ready for a fight. "Over her? A woman who would rather be in my bed than yours?"

Aemond didn't respond with words. He lunged at Aegon, slamming him against the wall with all his strength, his forearm pressing hard against Aegon's throat. Aegon choked, his eyes narrowing, but he laughed again — that same taunting laugh that made Aemond's blood boil.

"Say it again," Aemond growled, his face inches from Aegon's, his voice colder than the dead of winter. His breath came in sharp bursts, his chest rising and falling with barely restrained fury. "Say it again, and I will carve the words from your tongue."

Aegon sneered, his eyes wild with reckless defiance. "You should be thanking me, little brother," he rasped, his breath shallow under the pressure on his throat. "I'm the one who gave her what you couldn't."

Aemond's grip tightened, his nails digging into Aegon's skin. His heart pounded like a war drum, his mind screaming with rage, jealousy, and something else he refused to name. His fingers twitched with the desire to crush, to hurt, to silence the man who had always taken everything too far.

"Enough!"

Helena's voice cut through the chaos like a blade. Her tone, usually soft and distant, was now sharp and commanding. She had risen from the bed, her hands clenched into small fists at her sides. Her wide, violet eyes stared at both of them, filled with something neither brother had seen before - disgust.

"Look at you," she said, her voice trembling but strong. "Fighting each other like beasts over her. Over a woman you both claim to love." Her eyes flickered to Aemond, disappointment clear in her gaze. "What do you think she would see if she walked in now? Would she see the man she loves, or a monster?"

Her words hit Aemond harder than Aegon ever could. His grip loosened, and he stepped back, his breathing ragged, his mind reeling. He glanced down at his hands, his fingers still curled like claws, and for a moment, he didn't recognize them.

Aegon coughed, rubbing his throat as he leaned heavily against the wall. He glanced at Helena, then back at Aemond, his eyes still sharp but his grin gone. "Pathetic," he muttered, shaking his head as he wiped more blood from his mouth. "You'll lose her, Aemond. Just like you're losing everything else."

Aemond didn't react. He didn't move. His eye remained fixed on his hands, his breathing shallow, his mind clouded with doubt. The silence grew heavy, broken only by the distant sound of footsteps echoing through the halls of the Red Keep.

Helena approached Aemond, her gaze gentle but firm. She placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "If you truly love her, Aemond," she whispered, her voice soft again, "then stop letting your pride destroy everything you have with her."

Her words lingered in the air like the last breath of a dying man.

Aegon scoffed, his grin slowly returning as he glanced between his siblings. "It's too late, sister," he muttered, pushing himself off the wall and heading toward the door. "He already lost her."

His words echoed even after he was gone.

Aemond remained still, his gaze on the ground, his heart heavier than his armor. He felt the weight of every mistake, every missed chance, every time he chose silence over action. He could hear your voice in his head, the way it had cracked when you asked him, "Why am I never enough for you?"

His chest ached with something deeper than pain.

"I haven't lost her," he muttered, his voice hoarse but certain. His eye lifted to meet Helena's gaze, filled with a determination sharper than Valyrian steel. "Not yet."

Aemond stood still, his one eye locked onto you as you burst into his chamber, tears streaming down your face. His heart clenched at the sight, and for a moment, he forgot how to breathe. He didn’t move, didn’t speak. He just listened. Every word that spilled from your lips was like a dagger cutting deeper and deeper into him.

“You think I’m a fool, don’t you?” you hissed, your voice raw with pain. “You think I don’t see it — how you look at her, how you always choose her.” Your voice broke, and you wiped at your face angrily, as if frustrated with yourself for crying in front of him. “But I see it, Aemond. I see everything, and I’m done pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

Each word was a blow, but Aemond didn’t flinch. He didn’t dare. He felt his nails digging into the palms of his hands, his jaw so tight it ached. He wanted to tell you that it wasn’t true. He wanted to shout it at the top of his lungs, to deny it, to beg for your forgiveness. But something stopped him — maybe it was pride, or maybe it was the weight of his own guilt.

“Say something!” you yelled, your voice cracking under the weight of your pain. “Say something, Aemond! Tell me I’m wrong! Tell me that I matter to you!”

He opened his mouth, but no words came. His heart was at war with his mind. He wanted to tell you that you were wrong, that you were the only one who mattered to him. But the words refused to come out. His lips moved, but no sound followed.

You stared at him, eyes wide with disbelief, searching his face for something — anything — that would tell you he still loved you. But all you saw was silence.

“Pathetic,” you whispered, voice low but filled with venom. Your eyes, once so soft and full of love, were now hardened by hurt. “Pathetic.”

That was when he moved, his body finally catching up to his heart. His hand twitched, ready to reach for you, to pull you close and never let you go. But before he could close the distance, you turned on your heel and ran.

“Wait,” he choked out, his voice hoarse and weak, but you didn’t stop.

He watched you disappear beyond the door, his world crumbling as your absence hit him harder than any physical blow. His breath quickened, chest heaving as anger swirled inside him like a storm.

“Seven Hells!” he roared, his voice echoing through the chamber like thunder. His rage exploded. He swept his arm across the table, sending goblets, scrolls, and plates crashing to the floor. His breath came in sharp, shallow pants as he gripped the edge of the table, his knuckles turning white from the strain.

His vision blurred with red. His heart ached more than his clenched fists as he slammed one of them against the stone wall, the sharp crack of bone meeting stone reverberating through the room. Pain shot through his hand, but he didn’t care. He hit it again. And again. And again.

“You’re a fool,” he hissed to himself through gritted teeth, his forehead pressing against the cold wall. “A damned fool.”

His breath was shaky now, his heart still pounding like a war drum in his chest. His eyes darted to the door where you had disappeared. He clenched his jaw, his gaze hardening with resolve.

This is not how it ends.

His breath steadied, though his hands still shook from the adrenaline. His heart still ached with the ghost of your words, but he wasn’t about to let it end this way. Not this time.

“Not again,” he muttered, his voice like steel. Not again.

Aemond’s grip on the reins was so tight his knuckles turned white, the leather creaking under the strain. His jaw was set in a hard line, his chest heaving with every breath as if the air itself burned him from the inside out. Each word from you and your mother echoed in his mind like a war drum.

“The marriage will be annulled.”

His heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest, trampled underfoot by those very words. His face betrayed nothing, but the storm within him was uncontrollable. It churned and boiled with rage, pain, and desperation. How dare they? How dare they think they could take you away from him?

The horse’s hooves pounded against the stone path with a steady, thunderous rhythm as he made his way to the Dragonpit. His silver hair flew wildly behind him, his cloak billowing like the wings of a dragon about to take flight. The cold wind bit at his skin, but he welcomed the sting — it was nothing compared to the pain in his chest.

His one eye remained fixed ahead, sharp as Valyrian steel, unblinking, unwavering. No one takes her from me. No one.

The guards stationed at the entrance to the Dragonpit stiffened at his arrival but said nothing. They could see the fury in his stride, the storm in his gaze. No one dared to stop him. No one ever did.

He strode through the cavernous hall, his footsteps echoing like distant thunder. The air smelled of ash and dragonfire. Shadows danced along the walls from the flickering flames of braziers, making him appear larger, more fearsome, like the very shadow of death itself.

His eyes sought one dragon and one dragon only. Vhagar. The old beast lay curled in the farthest corner, her massive body rising and falling with each breath. Her eyes opened, glowing with ancient intelligence. She sensed his turmoil, his fury, his need for destruction.

“Come, Vhagar,” he muttered darkly, his voice hoarse but commanding. The great dragon shifted, her scales scraping against stone as she uncurled her massive form. Her eyes remained locked on him, unblinking, understanding. She had seen this before — the rage of a Targaryen in his purest, rawest form.

He climbed onto her back without hesitation, his fingers curling tightly around the leather straps. The air was thick with the heat of dragonfire, and he breathed it in like it was salvation.

“Fly,” he growled, his voice rough with emotion. “Take me away from them. Take me away from her.”

With a mighty roar, Vhagar unfurled her wings, her ancient bones creaking but still powerful. The gust of wind from her wings sent dust and loose stone scattering across the pit. Aemond’s heart thundered in his chest as they rose higher and higher, the Red Keep shrinking beneath them. The cold air stung his face, but he didn’t care. The higher they went, the lighter he felt, like the weight of the world could only be shed in the skies.

His eye scanned the world below, and the city of King’s Landing sprawled out like a living, breathing thing. Its people were ants, scurrying in their small, insignificant lives. It would be so easy to burn it all. So easy.

But it wasn’t them he wanted to burn. It was the helplessness. The rage. The pain.

His hands gripped the straps tighter, his breathing sharp and unsteady. His heart was a storm, a wild, untamed thing, and every beat echoed one thought: She’s mine.

They think they can take her from me?

His vision blurred with tears he refused to shed. His pride wouldn’t allow it. Targaryens don’t cry. Targaryens don’t beg. But his heart didn’t care for the pride of kings. It only knew that you were being taken from him.

“Dracarys,” he muttered under his breath.

Vhagar roared, the ancient sound shaking the very clouds. Fire erupted from her jaws, a golden inferno that lit up the sky. Below, the people of King’s Landing glanced up in fear, pointing at the streak of fire that illuminated the night like a second sun.

Aemond watched it burn, his eye reflecting the flames. His heart was still heavy, his mind still clouded, but at least now — just for a moment — he could feel something other than the ache of losing you.

But the fire would burn out. It always did. And once it was gone, all that remained was the cold, empty silence.

Aemond's footsteps echoed heavily through the stone corridors of the Red Keep. Each step was faster, harder, fueled by the growing rage that burned hotter with every passing moment.

His jaw was clenched so tightly it ached, his hands balled into fists at his sides. Aegon.

His brother's name repeated in his mind like a curse. How dare he? How dare he humiliate Helena like this? Begging their mother to dissolve his marriage as if it were nothing more than an inconvenient arrangement. As if Helena, their sweet, kind Helena, was unworthy.

The image of her tear-streaked face flashed in his mind. She had sat there on his bed, trembling, her voice cracking as she tried to explain what had happened. Her confusion, her pain — it all became fuel for the wildfire of rage in his chest.

His boots hit the floor harder now, his stride more determined. The servants he passed shrank against the walls, their eyes cast down to avoid his gaze. No one dared to speak. No one dared to stop him. Everyone knew what that look on Prince Aemond's face meant.

He reached Aegon's door. The two guards stationed there glanced at each other, unsure if they should intervene. Aemond didn't give them the chance to consider it. With one swift kick, the door burst open, slamming against the wall with a deafening crash.

Aegon was lounging on his bed, a goblet of wine in his hand, his tunic disheveled as if he'd just woken from a long, lazy nap. He blinked in surprise at the sudden intrusion, wine sloshing over his fingers. His shock was quickly replaced with his usual smirk.

"Well, well," Aegon drawled, wiping the spilled wine on his sleeve. "To what do I owe the pleasure, brother?"

Aemond said nothing at first. His single eye burned like dragonfire, sharp and unyielding.

He stepped forward, slow, deliberate, like a predator stalking its prey. Aegon's smirk faltered.

"You went to Mother," Aemond said, his voice low but seething with restrained fury. "You begged her to annul your marriage to Helaena."

Aegon raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance as he sat up, setting the goblet aside. "I don't see how that's your concern, brother." He shrugged, his grin returning with a hint of mockery. "If I don't want to be chained to a woman who speaks in riddles and stares at bugs all day, that's my choice, isn't it?"

Aemond moved so fast Aegon barely had time to react. In an instant, Aemond had grabbed him by the collar, yanking him up from the bed with the strength of a man possessed. Aegon's grin vanished, replaced with panic.

"Listen to me, you drunken fool," Aemond hissed through gritted teeth, his face inches from Aegon's. His voice was deathly quiet, but it carried more weight than a thousand roars.

"You can humiliate yourself all you like. Drink, stumble, wallow in filth. I care not."

He slammed Aegon against the nearest wall with a thud, making the wooden frame of the bed creak behind them. "But you will not disgrace Helena. You will not break her."

"Since when do you care so much about Helaena?" Aegon sneered, squirming in Aemond's grip. "Is it guilt, brother? Or is it something more?" He chuckled darkly. "Do you wish it was you in my place? Is that it? You always did have a soft spot for her, didn't you? Perhaps you'd rather she warm your bed-"

Aemond's fist connected with Aegon's face before he could finish the sentence. The crack of bone echoed through the chamber, and Aegon stumbled, blood already trickling from his nose.

"You forget yourself, brother," Aemond growled, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding in his ears. "Speak her name with respect or I will carve it into your tongue."

Aegon wiped the blood from his face, laughing bitterly. His eyes were filled with something darker now, but he didn't move to fight back. Instead, he leaned against the wall, staring at Aemond with a knowing look.

"You act like you're doing this for her," Aegon said, his voice rasping as he spat blood onto the floor. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "But it's not her you're thinking about, is it?" His eyes narrowed, his lips curling into a grin. "It's her. Your little wife. That's why you're really angry, isn't it? Because you can't stand to see me touching her."

Aemond's breath hitched, his hands trembling at his sides. He said nothing. But his silence was answer enough.

Aegon's grin widened, his eyes lighting up with wicked delight. "Hit too close to home, did I, brother?" He tilted his head, eyes full of mock sympathy. "Don't worry. I'm sure she'll come crying to me again. She always does, doesn't she? She likes it when someone actually touches her."

Aemond's world went red. He lunged at Aegon, slamming him to the ground. His fists came down like hammers, blow after blow, each strike fueled by rage and jealousy. Aegon's grunts and gasps echoed through the room, but Aemond didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Not until the fury in his chest burned out.

It took the guards bursting in and pulling him back for him to stop. Two of them grabbed his arms, holding him in place, their strained voices calling his name. "Prince Aemond! Stop! Stop, my prince!"

Aegon lay on the ground, coughing and groaning, blood dripping from his nose, his lip split wide open. Despite the bruises swelling on his face, he still had the audacity to laugh.

"Careful, little brother," Aegon croaked, grinning through bloody teeth. "If you break me too much, there won't be anyone left for her to run to."

Aemond wrenched himself free from the guards' grip, his chest heaving as he glared down at his brother. He wiped his bloodied knuckles on his tunic and leaned in close, his voice deathly quiet.

"She'll never run to you again," Aemond promised, his voice laced with venom. "If you so much as look at her, I will carve your eyes from your skull and feed them to Vhagar."

News of your pregnancy hit Aemond like a blow he couldn’t dodge. His fury burned hot, an uncontrollable fire raging within him. On the training grounds, he swung his sword with unrelenting force, each strike harder and faster than the last. Ser Criston barely managed to block each blow, his face growing tense from the effort it took to hold his ground.

“Aemond! That’s enough!” Ser Criston shouted, raising his sword to parry another wild swing. “Control yourself!”

But Aemond wasn’t listening. His eye was sharp with rage, his gaze distant and filled with something more dangerous than mere anger — betrayal. Their swords clashed, a sharp metallic clang echoing across the courtyard. Sparks flew from the impact. Ser Criston staggered back, his chest heaving as he struggled to steady himself.

“You think I don’t know?!” Aemond roared, his voice rough, strained, like the growl of a dragon ready to breathe fire. His face was flushed, a sheen of sweat on his brow. His violet eye gleamed with raw fury. “They all know. They whisper behind my back. They mock me. She mocks me.”

“Aemond!” Ser Criston stepped forward, his sword lowered in caution. “No one is mocking you. You’re a prince, a warrior, a Targaryen.”

“Shut up!” Aemond snarled, swinging his sword so violently that it nearly disarmed Criston. The Kingsguard narrowly dodged, his face shifting from concern to controlled anger.

“That’s enough!” Ser Criston’s voice boomed with authority, louder than before. “You want to fight them all? Fine. But don’t be a fool and strike down the ones still on your side!”

Aemond froze. His chest heaved as he drew in deep, ragged breaths. His eye locked on Criston with an intensity that could break stone. But then, slowly, his gaze shifted to the ground. His grip loosened, and with a sharp clang, his sword fell from his hand, hitting the stone floor with a loud, echoing crash.

The entire training yard went silent. The guards and servants nearby glanced at one another, unsure of what had just happened.

Aemond turned away, his face as blank and cold as a winter sea. But inside, a storm raged. Guilt. Anger. Shame.

He let you go.

He saw you cry in Aegon’s arms, and he did nothing.

He let you fall into Aegon’s embrace.

And now, you were carrying Aegon’s child.

Aemond pressed his hands against his face, fingers digging into his skin, as if trying to claw the image out of his mind. But it wouldn’t leave. The whispers from the servants echoed in his ears like a chorus of mockery. He could still see Aegon’s smug grin, could still hear his brother’s taunting laughter.

“I should have stopped it,” he whispered to himself, his voice hoarse, barely audible. “I should have stopped you.”

His hands lowered slowly, and his eye glowed with new resolve. His jaw tightened, his face hard as steel. His heart may have been torn apart by guilt, but there was one truth that remained clear to him.

He would not lose you.

No matter whose child you carried.

No matter what Aegon claimed.

No matter what anyone said.

You belonged to him.

And he would take you back.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @giirlinblack

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats

Aegon ii Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI. Targcest, smut, angst, violence. S2 SPOILERS

“I can’t be ‘Aegon the Magnanimous.’ No one knows what Magnanimous means.” Aegon drawls, slumped over in his throne. The hour is late and there are many places he’d rather be. Namely with his beloved wife, who he’s scarcely seen, since taking on his duties. Their children will already be asleep, but if they wrap things up here soon, he may have a few moments with Y/N before bed.

“Aegon the dragon cock.” One of the piss drunk men raises his cup to the king.

“That’s more like it,” Aegon claps his hands together.

The men hoot and holler at the name. Dissolving into laughter.

“Speaking of,” Aegon rises to his feet, “I must get back to my wife. I did not wed her to admire from afar.” Aegon tosses back the remainder of his wine, throwing his gauntlet down beside the throne. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

He wastes no time, taking the stairs two at a time up to his chambers. His queen is already abed, waiting up for him with a bit of light reading. “What story is that now, my dearest love?” Aegon asks, pulling off his boots.

“It’s a book about the plague.” Y/N bends it open at the spine, setting the bound pages on the bedside table.

“Seems a bit morbid.” Aegon frowns, “especially in these times, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you have something better in mind, your grace?”

Aegon doesn’t miss the bitterness in her voice. “You are my equal, here of all places. Don’t do this to me, please. Do not ice me out, I cannot bear it.”

Y/N sighs, crossing both arms over her chest. “Helaena is frightened of the rats. I’ve been looking into their behaviors and customs.”

Aegon flops onto the mattress, unceremoniously. “The rats?”

Y/N nods, “to be honest, I’m not particularly fond of them either. Although, they are interesting.”

“No vermin shall touch you so long as I live, darling girl. The only thing nibbling your toes will be me.” He wiggles his foot against hers for emphasis.

Y/N huffs a laugh. Allowing the silence between them to hang heavy.

“I am sorry about your brother.” Aegon says, despite ordering his own brother, Aemond, away at the news and holding her through sobs, he’s yet to say the words. “I cannot stand your suffering. It’s made it nearly impossible to be away from you to perform my duties.”

Y/N brings his hand to her lips, kissing the knuckles.

“I want you to attend the petitions,” he decides. “At my side, in my lap, seated directly on my cock; whatever suits you.”

“Directly on your cock?” Y/N chortles, “your mother would have my head.”

“She will do no such thing, you are queen. You may do as you wish.”

“You spoil me,” that’s what everyone says anyway.

“You’re mine to spoil. They’re jealous is all.”

“Shall we practice then? For the hearings?”

“If you wish.” Aegon rolls onto his back, sliding both arms behind his head.

Y/N grins, devilishly as she slides off his clothes, allowing his cock to spring free. Her own nightgown and small clothes follow before she swings a leg over his hips and slides down his length.

“Seven hells,” Aegon groans.

His wife leans forward, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

“A tenth of my flock has been taken, your grace.” Aegon tells her, repeating one of the smallfolk’s concerns.

“Your what?” Y/N blinks at him.

“Sheep,” he continues, “a tenth of them gone, taken by your guard, just before winter. What say you, my queen?”

“Give them back.” Y/N sighs as his hands finally land on her hips, guiding her movements.

“That’s what I said,” Aegon hums, thrusting up to meet her.

“Did they listen?”

“No.” Aegon purses his lips, “they might need them to feed the dragons.”

“It’s much harder to concentrate this way, my king.”

“I know,” he coos, “but you’re doing so well.”

“The dragons,” Y/N pants, “have never required sheep from the smallfolk before.”

“We have never been to war.” Aegon says, through gritted teeth as she clenches around him.

“My mother will want revenge for Lucerys.”

“And I want this matter resolved peacefully.” Aegon assures her, “still I cannot give my brother up for the slaughter.”

“I don’t see how this can end peacefully now,” Y/N laments, feeling the coil in her belly tighten. “It will end in fire and blood.”

“What would you have me do?”

Y/N shakes her head, “We must stop Aemond from claiming Harrenhal at the least.”

“Consider it done.” Aegon beckons her down for a kiss.

The clatter of metal against the floor breaks them apart, “what was that?” Y/N’s eyes search the room.

“Twas only the wind, my dearest love.” Aegon smiles up at his wife.

The hairs on the back of her neck stand at attention. “No. Something is wrong.”

“I agree,” Aegon takes her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it to a taut peak. “You stopped moving.”

“Aegon,” she warns, “please.”

“Shhh,” he gentles her back to a steady grind. “I’m here. You are safe.”

Y/N offers a shaky smile. Still something seems amiss, though she can’t think much more about it with Aegon’s free hand toying with her pearl.

“Cum on my cock, then we will look into it, if you feel so inclined.”

Y/N nods, bouncing faster, harder. Trying to ignore the worry twisting at her gut.

Aegon’s bottom lip is caught between his teeth. “Fuck, I love you.”

“I love you.”

“More than anyone or anything, save for our children. I want you to remember that…always.”

Y/N nods, feeling herself teetering on the precipice. “I-” she wants to say it back, only her brain doesn’t seem to be working.

“Hush, sweetheart.” Aegon groans, because he knows. Rubbing his fingers harshly against her pearl to push her over the edge. Shaking and crying her release as she milks his cock. “Good girl.” Aegon fills her pulsing cunt with his spend.

She leans toward her husband, capturing his lips as they ride out their high. Once she has caught her breath Y/N rolls away, off of the bed, shuffling back into her nightgown.

Aegon follows her lead, redressing in his tunic and trousers. “Head to the children’s room, wait for me there. I’ll have the guards help me search the floor for any sign of…rats.”

Y/N wrings her hands, knowing how silly it sounds. “Thank you, Aegon.”

He closes the distance between them, pressing his lips to her forehead and cheek. “You’re more than welcome.” He watches her leave the room before heading in the opposite direction. Where is everyone? The keep is never so quiet, even at night.

Y/N scampers down the hallway to the nursery, it takes a moment for her mind to make sense of the scene before her. Helaena with a knife held to her throat by a strange man. His counterpart hovering over the children’s beds with a blade at the ready.

“What are you doing?” Y/N breathes, clutching a hand to her chest.

The man holding Helaena shoves her aside.

Y/N catches the woman in her arms, smoothing down her white tresses. Helaena clings to her. “It’s ok.”

The children sleep better together, they always have. Besides the maids prefer Aegon and Y/N’s children close to Aemond and Helaena’s for practical reasons, until they are older.

“Which of them are yours?” The first man demands.

“All of them,” Y/N lies. “All of them are mine.”

“You have but four children,” Cheese insists. “Here lie six, tell me which are yours and I will spare them.”

“If I don’t tell you and you’re wrong, my mother will have your head.” Y/N clenches her jaw. “For all I know of our true queen, this was not her request. So who’s was it?”

“A son for a son, that’s what’s fair.” Blood insists.

“What did they offer you? Gold?” Y/N wonders, “I’ll double it if you leave now.”

The men look to each other, undecided.

“Or you could take me instead. I’m worth more to my mother than any bounty.” Rhaenyra’s eldest child offers.

————————————————————————-

Aegon completes his sweep of their chambers, along with the rest of the royal floor. Nothing is amiss. He moves to the children’s quarters and finds Helaena, curled up on the floor. “What’s happened?”

Helaena takes her brother’s outstretched hand. “They wanted to kill the boy.”

The boy? “My boy?”

Helaena shakes her head, “mine.”

Aegon looks to his nephew, still sleeping soundly. “Where is Y/N?”

“They took her instead.”

“Where the hell is Cole?” Aegon demands. “Where in the seven hells is anyone?”

“I don’t know,” Helaena sobs.

Part 2

[just-some-random-blogger]

Losing Dogs

Neither you or Aegon wanted to get married. Neither you or Aegon wanted to marry each other. But at some point, you figured you should make the most of what you had, and so you offer your husband a deal he cannot refuse.

Aegon Targaryen x Reader | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, arranged marriage/loveless marriage, smut (piv, virginity loss, rough/loveless sex) DD:DNE, alcoholism, violence, suicide/suicidal thoughts & ideation, mentions of domestic/child abuse, death, pregnancy/miscarriage, aegon's mommy issues, insecurities, angst, typos, etc.

A/N: ... i had something to say about this fic but i forgot... maybe ill remember later???? edit: i did not remember. i thought of mitski while entitling this so go play i bet on losing dogs ig?

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @deniixlovezelda @azperja @sloanexx @risefallrise

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

Aegon only truly understood what this meant the day he was married and he was forbidden to drink a drop of alcohol.

As if it wasn't painful enough that he was going to be married to a complete stranger from some house he's never fucking heard of, he was erratic and uneasy the whole day because of the withdrawal. He loathes the preparation, the ceremony, the fucking pageantry of it all.

He thinks it was worse that you seemed to be so chipper the entire time. You smiled with a halo, skin shining with the light. You also seemingly did no wrong, judging by the praises you received from his mother and grandfather. But, who was he kidding, of course they fucking loved you, they chose you to be his prison keeper.

You did not press him once, not when you were preparing for the ceremony, not when you were at the feast, not even after the Queen encouraged you to dance.

Anyone with eyes could see from how he slumped on his chair during dinner that Aegon would rather die than circle around the room to this grating noise echoing in the chamber.

The band begins to play another song and another round of dancing ensues.

He stares at the food on the table. Oh, to be a suckling pig.

The relief that coursed through him when he could finally leave was enough to knock him out. Except, he really wanted, no, needed a drink.

He crashes on his bed, belly down, and reaches for the cabinet door on his bedside table. He feels for his bottle, hand knocking into the corners of the compartment, but he sits up when he finds nothing.

He growls in frustration upon realizing this was definitely his mother's doing. Thief!

"I managed a cup."

Aegon struggles to look over his shoulder from his position. He rolls on his back as you walk to the side of the bed.

He stares at you. You offer a glass holding burgundy liquid. Your voice is soft and kind as you explain, "your mother would suspect me if I took a whole bottle."

Aegon pushes himself up and sits on the edge of the bed, facing you. He gulps at the wine you were offering.

Sure, he may not be the brightest, but anyone could tell this scene was the epitome of ulterior motives. Aegon leans on his thighs, "why are you doing this?"

You stare a moment. You clutch the cup in both hands and examine it. Again, your voice is gentle, "you are clearly in torment. It hurts my heart."

His eye twitches.

I see. It seems you were a fucking saint.

Aegon rips the glass out of your hands, some of the wine spills over. He downs the contents in one go, then chucks the glass across the room once he finished.

He looks back at you, glaring with watery eyes. He was exhausted, he was angry, and he wanted you to know it. But you don't flinch at the sound of the glass breaking. You didn't flinch at all when he showed aggression. Why didn't you flinch?

You press your lips and sigh. You step towards him and reach out.

He nervously straightens up and tilts his head back as you approach. His breath hitches when your warm hand touches his cheek. He blinks rapidly.

"It's been a long day. Would you like me to help you change?"

Again, his eye twitches.

And then he realizes what you mean.

Ah. So, this is what you wanted?

He releases a breath, eyes lowering. Your face falls into a slight frown.

He thinks about it for a moment. I mean, sex was sex and he was game. It didn't matter how he performed, his completion was all that mattered, really. And you were pretty enough, albeit irritatingly good.

When you stroke his hair, Aegon pulls at your skirts, causing you to squeak and topple, hands flying to his shoulders for support. Your faces are inches apart. He pulls you down until you have no other choice than to sit on his lap.

You can smell the remnants of the wine he just drank on his breath. Aegon brings his face closer to yours, and you let out a soft 'hmp'. You mutter, "I gather you don't want to change, but want to get out of your clothes."

He narrows his eyes as you shift on his lap and undo the buttons by his chest. He mutters dumbly, "this is what you wanted."

With knit brows, you retort, "I've not yet told you what I wanted." You shift on his lap again as you peel his top off. Amidst it, he asks, "what do you want?"

You grunt after ridding him of his top. You fold it in your arms then set it aside on the bed. You turn back to him. Aegon's breath hitches when you fondle with strings of his undershirt. He watches your lips as you mumble, "I want you to give me a ride on your dragon."

He furrows his brows. But that's what he just said.

You stand, only to lift your skirt and take your place back on his lap. This time, you straddle him.

Aegon gulps, hands coming to your hips like a magnet. He feels you grind on him; shaky breaths leave his lips in response. His hands scratch up your back and a moan escapes him when your nails trace his collarbones.

"Allow me one trip on Sunfyre, and in return, I'll be your magic lamp," you whisper, taking one of his hands, bringing it to the side of your ribs, "you may rub me where you like-"

His heart skips when you kiss his cheek.

"-and I will grant you all your wishes."

Aegon ticks.

The next moment, he pushes you down on the bed. He doesn't bother getting either of you naked, nor does he prepare you at all in fact. Thankfully, you were already wet.

You don't have the opportunity to ask him to be gentle, to explain you were a bride after all, and it was your wedding night.

Aegon grips your skirts as he fucks you like he means to prove a point. He snaps his hips roughly into you to assert dominance, to exemplify control. Sure, you offered yourself to him, but he was the one doing the work, and you were the one beneath him.

In truth, the pace he set gave you more pain rather than pleasure. And with how pent up he was, the rough tempo he set burnt him out way too quickly before it could make any of you feel good. And when he begins to lag, you start to feel good.

You notice this change and rub your nose against his. He recoils, unused to affection when fucking. It snaps him back into an aggressive trance.

You yelp. Aegon convinced himself it was a sound of bliss.

You kiss his jaw and work your way to his ear, hoping to calm him down. He tenses at the feel of your tongue on his lobe. It stokes flames in his belly and makes him involuntarily roll his hips slower to focus on the attention you're giving. In return, his pace is just enough for him to hit that spot that makes you throw your head back.

Aegon is startled by the scratchy groan that leaves your throat. He finds himself lifting his head to spectate, but you pull him into you by the nape and groan, "like that. Please- gods - that feels good."

His brows tense and he rolls his hips again, finding the same reaction.

You wrap your arms and legs around him, uncaring of how hot and sweaty you were getting. In the heat of the moment, you reach for his lips, needing them, needing something to wrap your own on.

Aegon kisses you. He kisses you with a strange twinge in his chest. He kisses you until he has to pull away and reposition himself to catch his building climax.

In a second, he's back to his fuck-loving self, only self-serving and lustful. As he gazes upon your writhing body, catching the beads of sweat on your skin, the concentration on your face, and the way you chant his name as you part your legs for him, he's overcome by another spirit. To watch you break, to watch you coil and collapse around him felt just as urgent as his need to come.

And so Aegon rubs your clit and forces you to peak first; you do it so well he curses loudly and comes after.

He lays on top of you for a moment, the overwhelming need to be held ripples through his body. He recalls how his whores shoo him away after he's done fucking them though. Before you can cradle him in your arms, he rolls off you.

You close your legs and and watch him strip himself and sequentially change. You watch him get back in bed and bring himself underneath the covers. He goes to sleep.

He fucking goes to sleep.

You feel hollow after this, but tell yourself it's nothing personal. You repeat this as you, yourself, get up and change, sequentially sleeping too. Or at least you try. You have fight the urge to cry for hours before you do.

The next morning, you bring up dragon riding to Aegon, and disappointed as you are, you are unsurprised to find that he was unwilling to give you such a thing.

It was a plain thing you were asking for, you explain. And it's exactly why he doesn't want to do it. It's clearly some trick, something to trap him, something he's going to regret. It was probably some ploy orchestrated by his mother.

Oh gods, he thinks, it's worse. It's a bonding experience so you can make him into your puppet. Fuck. No.

So, he does what he does best, and makes an excuse, "I don't feel like riding today. I'm still exhausted from the festivities."

You purse your lips and nod, "that's understandable. Would you like for me to get you something?"

Wait. You weren't going to argue about him not keeping his end of the deal?

You seem to catch this, considering your response and the way you take his hand. You place his palm on your chest. He can feel your pulse quicken as you mutter, "I am your magic lamp, husband. I wish to please you. I will prove this until you trust me enough to grant me a ride on dragonback."

He narrows his eyes, "you would grant me wishes, all in return for a ride on Sunfyre?"

You smile softly at him, "in return for respite, yes."

He doesn't trust your smile.

"I want to visit the Grey Cliffs. I have for a years now. I went there once as a child and long to go again."

"Why?" he knits his brows at your explanation, "what's there?"

You lower his hand and rub his skin, "respite, my prince."

Aegon pulls his hand away.

Very well. If that is what you want, then he will wear your wishes dry until you find it no longer worth the trouble.

Aegon wishes on his lamp everyday, and his wife sequentially plays entertainer, jester, servant, and slave.

He makes you bring a bottle of wine with you everywhere, and pour him a cup when he wishes. He loathes how you seem unbothered by it. He loathes how you don't even correct a visiting Lord who mistakes you for a cupbearer and simply serve him some wine. The Lord is mortified when he realizes you are his wife, a fucking princess. Aegon hates how you tell the man you were unbothered because you spent your whole life being a cupbearer to your father anyway.

He makes you do trivial tasks as well, sometimes tasks meant for more than one person at a time, and yet you still manage to do them, annoyingly better than the maids. When he demanded you cook him a full course meal, you did so all by yourself, and had the servants looking at you like you were some goddess.

He ripped a hole in his clothes then made you mend it. You covered the hole so seamlessly that he poked a bigger one right in front of you. And even then you don't give him the satisfaction of getting angry. You tell him you will embroider something on top of the hole and he storms off. He overhears you telling the servants, who applaud your level-headedness, that you were used to angry men, because your father was just the same.

You use each of these moments to somehow tell him you were the perfect wife and he had to oblige your stupid request at some point.

But then he found your flaw.

Aegon asked you to play the harpsichord for him, and you told him you did not know how. The woman who knew all did not know something? He would then proceed to hang this over your head. When he asked you for food, he'd tell you how much better it'd taste if he had entertainment. If he asked you to do something physically taxing for him, he's say that he wouldn't have asked you to do it, had you known how to play his 'favorite' instrument. He would use this as the reason why he could never bring you to Grey Cliffs.

It was all fun and games, but then you had to snitch, hadn't you?

"What are you doing to that poor girl!" Queen Alicent barked, making his ears ring.

Aegon groans from where he lies in bed. His mother rips the blankets off him, making him wake in a sour mood.

"She is your wife!" Alicent yells, "not your slave! Fine, you wish her to do tasks for you, tasks for your betterment. But to insult her standing by treating her like a maid is beneath a prince, Aegon!"

Aegon feels his throat tighten at the sight of his angry mother's face, "she is my wife," he growls, "I do with her as I please."

She strikes his cheek.

Aegon's head whips to the side. He doesn't have the energy to look back at her.

"You will no longer parade her as a cupbearer. I will have it decreed you are not ever served a drop of wine if you don't."

Alicent leaves after this. Aegon's anger explodes when the door closes.

He screams and rips at his hair. He kicks furniture around and eventually drops to the floor, exhausted, furious, and hurt. This was all your fault.

He screams again and claws the tears on his face. He slowly exhales through tight lips. His cheek is hot with saltwater. Who was he joking, this was all him.

This was all Aegon's doing.

His breathing is impeded by snot. He walks over to his window and stares at the ground below. If he jumps head first, not even the best maester in Westeros could fix him.

Before he can lean on the ledge, he is paralyzed in his spot by the sound of the door opening.

"I did not know she would be angry with you," you say.

Aegon looks back.

You see his red eyes and wet skin. He is a mirror to your younger self. You feel sick to your stomach. You try to explain, "I only asked if she could find a harpsichord teacher. I did not realize she would take offense in wanting to learn to play for you."

Aegon's heart aches at your naïve response. You were a stupid, perfect wife, and he, a stupid, petulant husband.

"I'm better off dead," he mumbles, looking back out the window. The call of the fall felt inviting, "want to push me, wife?"

You don't respond.

Aegon looks back at you, and suddenly you're only inches away. He tries to evade you, but you manage to catch his hand.

"We could jump together."

"What?"

Your face is blank. You part your lips, and for a moment, your eyes seem desperate, but then it's gone. You sigh, "dying is quite lonely," looking down, "I could keep you company."

Aegon stares at you. Tears stream down his face. "You're mad," he sniffles, yanking his hand away.

He walks over to his bed and collapses on it. He wraps himself in a blanket and feels sorry for himself, and angry at you for suggesting such a thing. Even now you want to be perfect by dying with him?

"I am," you mutter.

Aegon watches as you walk over to him. You sit on the floor beside his bed and look at your hands as you rub them.

"I cannot play the harpsichord, because my father does not like noise," you explain, "I was not allowed to make a sound or else I would be punished."

Aegon covers his head with a blanket but keeps his face visible, "he beat you, didn't he?"

You look at him, eyes melancholy, but still, he is the only one crying, "he beat everyone."

Aegon does not respond.

"I can sing though."

His brow raises, "how can you sing?"

"I would practice whenever he was gone, and sing for my mother in secret. It made her happy... happy enough."

He knew there was more to this confession, but he was too tired to ask about it, too tired to shed more tears.

"Would you like me to sing for you?"

"No."

"..."

"..."

"Would you like me to hold you?"

"..."

"..."

"..."

You stand from where you sat and get on the edge of the bed. Aegon watches as you slowly lie beside him. You bring an arm over him and pull him close. Aegon closes his eyes as you bring him into your chest.

You hold him until he falls asleep. Later that night, he asks you to hold him again. He also asks you to sing to him.

Aegon nestles his face in the crook of your neck. He wraps his arms around your torso, digging his fingers between your flesh and the bed. Your hushed voice reverberates in the bedroom, the song you sing is haunting and soothing. The vibrations from your chest lull him to sleep. You feel wetness pool by your clavicle but you make no note of it.

Aegon asks you to hold him the next morning after breaking fast. He asks you to stay with him in bed and to sing to him some more. When you have to leave his side, he asks to join you and waits until he can have you in his arms again.

Aegon becomes your shadow, and follows you around, under the promise of getting to share in your embrace. As you read and review letters or ledgers, your seat becomes Aegon's lap. He sleeps against you while you work without a fuss, cheek pressed against your back, arms fastened around your waist.

Sometimes, he notices the line that forms between your brows while you read and at some point, asks about it. You explain what causes it, and he is unmoved, as he is uninterested in politics that stress you. But when you read out to him, he finds comfort in your voice and asks you to read some. He falls asleep to your calm droning of circumstances he could not care less about. He groans and groggily awakens when you stop. He mumbles against your skin that you continue, pleadingly so.

When you had to leave the Keep for business, Aegon insisted that he joined you. When you brushed his cheek and explained to him why he could not go and that you would not be long, Aegon pushed you away and stormed off. You left without him anyway, and the treachery he felt was so great, he realized then how he could no longer go day to day without you. What was there to do, if you were not there?

And so Aegon desperately rubs his magic lamp and wishes upon you.

He wishes that you never leave without him again once you return.

He wishes that you promise to no longer make plans without him.

He traps you beneath him on your shared bed and wishes to be inside you. He kisses you and wishes to see you completely bared to him.

Aegon's mind is dizzy as he gazes upon the glory of your skin. He kisses your thighs, your hips, your breast, your lips.

Aegon wishes to surrender to you. He wishes that you undress him. He wishes to pull you on his body like a blanket. He wishes to see you take control. He wishes to see you cast your eyes upon him and lay your weight on his body.

He wishes to see you use him, to take what you need from him, to pleasure yourself, and to make him yours. He squeezes your thighs desperately when you moan out his name. This was much more maddening that what he imagined it would be.

He wishes to feel you come undone around him. He wishes he could forever feel the pleasure he did when he comes right after you do.

He wishes to hold you after. And when he holds you, when you lay on his chest and kiss him there, he wishes to never leave this moment ever again. He wishes to sing to you like you've sung to him.

"What are your plans tomorrow," Aegon asks as he draws nothings on your back.

You lift your head from his chest. He looks at you. You smile, "whatever you wish them to be."

He rubs your back and smiles, "I wish to take you to the Grey Cliffs."

Your expression drops, "what?"

He raises a brow at your reaction. You shift on your place. You straddle him again.

He looks up at you, noticing the line between your brows. He rubs your thighs, "you've granted me all my wishes. It's time I grant you yours." He shifts on his elbows and sits himself up, "it's time you meet my mount and-"

"We don't have to," you cut him off, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Aegon examines your expression. He listens to you sigh.

"I'd like to keep you-- wish to keep you..." you correct yourself, pushing him back down.

He looks up at you, feeling your hands rake up his body.

"...just like this," you finish, eyes solemn, lips curving into a soft smile, "I've not felt a thing like this in my entire life."

Aegon takes one of your hands and places it on his cheek. He whispers it like a secret, "neither have I."

You lean down to kiss him, "I wish to keep like this."

He kisses you back.

He is blindsided by how his wishes came to bite him in the arse. It's all crashing down on him. Suddenly, he wishes he didn't actually do any of those things with you.

He most of all wishes he heard you wrong. He wishes you didn't repeat yourself when he stupidly said, "what?"

"I'm with child," you speak slower, less excited yet excited still.

Aegon wishes you didn't look so excited. He wishes he fucking pulled out, but gods, you felt so good-- you feel so good around him, he felt so good inside you.

He realized the next moment, it couldn't be helped. You were going to have to bear his spawn at one point or another. He wishes you didn't have to. He wishes his seed wouldn't take completely. He wishes you don't take it to term. He wishes he won't have to be a father. Fuck.

He realizes he's been too quiet and you were waiting for a response from him. Your face began to twist. Your smile fades.

"Congratulations," Aegon musters. He feels like he swallowed a metal ball. His eyes wander to your belly. He mumbles mindlessly, "I suppose."

Your face falls.

Aegon looks back at you. Your face is devoid of any semblance of the glow it normally holds. You look sick. You feel sick.

"I see," you say, unintentionally allowing him to hear your voice break. Aegon's brows furrow at it.

He shakes his head, "you will be a great mother," he chuckles dryly, "you mother me so well."

You offer him a smile, but Aegon can see how disconnected it was from your eyes. You say, "thank you."

When you leave him after this, he wishes he hadn't said a word. He wishes he just left it at congratulations. He wishes he just pretended like the idea of having a child didn't mortify him and make him sick to his stomach. He wishes he wasn't so ill-suited to be a father.

Ageon no longer wishes for anything after this.

He no longer wishes to hold you, though he so badly wanted to. He no longer wishes to hear you sing, nor does he wish to hear you read to him. He no longer wishes to be around you, though his body urged him to follow you around like the lost soul he was.

He wishes he didn't wonder what you were doing at every moment of the day. He so desperately wishes to rid you from his mind completely that he drowns himself in his first and only true love, alcohol.

Fuck. He wishes he hadn't taken this route to his room. He wishes you hadn't taken this route to wherever it was you were going. He wishes he just turned around and fled like the coward he was, because then, you wouldn't have spoken to him.

"Husband," you curtsey.

Aegon stiffens and uncomfortably avoids your eyes.

You catch it, feeling your chest tighten painfully. You clear your throat and take a deep breath to steel yourself, "I thought you should know that I will be travelling."

Aegon looks at you.

"I have a ship ready and I'll be visiting the Grey Cliffs. Do not wait up for me."

His face falls. He opens his mouth, but doesn't have an opportunity to speak.

"I thought you should also know that I am no longer carrying."

His eyes widen.

"It's not an uncommon occurrence the first few months," you say simply, "I suppose the gods do not wish me to be a mother."

Aegon feels like a murderer. He wants to say something, to apologize, to comfort you, but he can't. He's too taken aback to do a single thing.

He turns into stone when you take his hand. You step forward and place his palm on your chest. Your heart is slow as you speak, "you won't have to worry about anything anymore, Aegon. Today is the end of our shared torment."

Aegon's stomach drops when you kiss him.

His eyes are glassy. You pull away before he can kiss you back. He wants to hold you, but the sadness in your eyes reminds him he is undeserving. You kiss his wrist, "goodbye, my love. I love you."

His heart thumps as you walk away.

Aegon is manic. He basks in the mess he's made and feels crushed by it all.

He finally acts after wasting so much time feeling sorry for himself. You were long out of his sight by the time he started running. This is why he headed to the dragonpit and got on Sunfyre.

"WAIT!" he screams, just as your boat leaves the dock.

Aegon watches as you run to the edge of the boat. He lands Sunfyre and runs as far to the edge of the docks as he could.

"Aegon-"

"Take me with you!" he pleads, "let me be the one to take you to where you must go!"

You look back. The ship stops. The crew brings down a boat and on it, you are rowed back to the dock.

He crushes you in his arms once he reaches you.

"Aegon," you mutter.

"Forgive me," he shudders, "I... I wish you let me do this for you."

"Aegon," your voice croaks. You push him away, "go home."

His heart drops. He breaks away to look at you. Your words feel like a stab at his thorax. It was presumptuous of him to assume you'd want him back, but it doesn't kill him inside any less.

"I've come to realize this is a trip I must go on myself," you mutter.

He shakes his head, "no. Please." He motions an arm out to his mount, "one wish. That I grant you one wish before you throw me away forever is... is--"

Your throat constricts at his words. Tears rush down your eyes, "I'm not throwing you away--"

"Please," he squeezes both your hands in his, "please, let me do this for you."

The flight to the Grey Cliffs is quiet, save for the whoosh of winds and the roars of the golden dragon you both rode. You always imagined it would be freeing, but only now did you know how it freeing it truly felt to fly. You knew now you'd forever chase the euphoric crush of air against your skin.

Aegon, who sat behind you, looks at your form as you outstretch your arms and close your eyes. Your body presses against him, and in this moment, he is unable to hold back from wrapping an arm around you and sparing a kiss on your shoulder. You are snapped out of your trance because of this.

The Grey Cliffs are dark and gloomy when you get there. Aegon realizes when you land that it got its name from the weather conditions.

He helps you down and surveys the area, trying to make out which part of this drear land was so special to you that you wished to go here.

You catch his expression and squeeze his hand.

Aegon turns to you.

You give a solemn look, "the view is better on the edge."

Aegon strokes Sunfyre's cheek, commanding him to stay before you lead him by the hand to the edge of the cliff. Once you get there, he feels queasy looking down at the crashing waves far beneath him. In contrast, you seem comforted by the view. His brows furrow at the deep breath you give out.

When you look at him, his stomach feels it, the comfort you felt upon witnessing the violent waves. Whatever it was that compelled you to this place was the same force that compelled him to kiss you.

He reaches out for your cheek, his other hand coming to you back. He pulls you close. His heart twinges when you stop him from kissing you.

"Aegon-"

"Forgive me," he cuts, "I beg."

You gawk at him. He brushes your hair which was wildly flinging with the breeze.

"You must know by now that I am craven. I lack the spine and the wit to be of any use to you."

Your eyes water. Your lips quiver.

"I would be a hopeless father, worse than my own, no doubt."

"Aegon," you babble as sobs overtake you.

Aegon, himself, succumbs to tears. He wipes the ones streaming down your face before taking a breath, "but you made me feel a love I do not deserve."

You swallow a heavy lump in your throat.

"I love you," he confesses.

"No," you pierce his heart. You shake your head in disagreement, "Aegon, this is a mistake. Bringing you here was a mistake."

"No!" he blurts louder than needed, "this was a choice," he looks down, "I choose to rip my insides out for you to devour. I am miserable, much more in the heat of your hate, but most of all without you."

His downturned eyes land on your face when you grab his wrists. You croak, "I do not hate you."

Aegon is not relieved by the admission, but he chooses to believe you mean it. He smiles softly, "good."

"But I do hate this life I live."

He clenches his jaw. Of course you do.

"You saved me," you press a hand on his cheek, taking your turn to wipe his tears, "even if for a moment."

"I made you miserable."

You chuckle. The sound makes his heart skip.

"You filled my life with purpose," you smile softly, "even when you did not mean to."

Aegon knits his brows deeply and takes your hands. He brings them to his lips and kisses them.

"But accidents happen. You must remember that accidents happen all the time."

Aegon shakes his head, "this is not an accident. Believe me when I say I chose to do this, I- ... I choose to love you."

You sob and turn to your feet.

"Please... believe me."

You sniffle and nod, slowly looking up at him, "I believe you."

You lunge into his arms and seal him into a tight hug. He hugs you back like it's his only way of surviving.

A crack of thunder startles Sunfyre. He becomes restless and steals away Aegon's attention, panicked that he might flee and leave them here.

He pulls away and takes a step towards her. He holds your hand, urging you to follow, "we should go before it rains."

You hug him from behind and press your face into his back, "thank you for taking me on Sunfyre."

"It was a long time coming."

"I've always wondered what it would be like to fly. And now that I know how peaceful it is, I'm ready to fly one last time."

He turns to you as you slowly come to his side. You hold his hand. He looks at you as you turn to Sunfyre. He promises, "I will take you on dragonback as many times as you wish."

You smile, but your eyes are fixed on his dragon. You release his hand and wrap your arms around yourself, "he is beautiful. You must never tire looking at him."

Aegon gazes upon Sunfyre. He takes in his golden scales and has newfound appreciation.

You take a step back.

"He is. To be honest, it's been long since I, myself, took him out of the pit. He must enjoy this day as much as you do."

"Aegon, you must understand that what I have to say has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me."

Aegon turns to you. He watches you tighten your arms around yourself. You must be cold. He rubs your shoulders.

You shake your head and turn him back to his dragon, "look at Sunfyre."

He knits his brows, "I'm looking."

"For so long," you release him, "I've wanted to fly free, to find my peace here in the cliffs. This was before I even met you." You point at the golden dragon, "I choose to love you too, but accidents happen, like if Sunfyre were to fly away, and you were to be left here alone."

Aegon stares at his ride for a moment as you lower your hand. He tries to makes sense of your words, but he cannot for the life of him understand.

He sighs, "what accident? Why do you keep-"

Aegon is flooded by confusion when he turns and finds you nowhere behind him. A split second later, he lets a horrified scream and the fear that claws into him makes his knees buckle. He crumbles to the ground and crawls to the edge of the cliff. He screams so loud that Sunfyre roars back and comes towards him.

Aegon watches as the red seafoam bubbles at the foot of the cliff. He watches as the crimson waves slowly slosh back into its original tint.

Rain begins to pour, and his tears taste no longer salty.

Was this the flying you ached for? Was this the relief you sought?

When he returns to King's Landing, dripping wet, he breaks down in front of his mother, weeping as he clutched his skirts.

Queen Alicent is obviously disturbed. She instructs her servants to get his son a change of clothes and some towels. She looks down at him, "what's happened? What's wrong, Aegon?"

"An accident-" he barely manages to say, "there's been an accident."

"An accident?!"

Aegon's mind goes blank. A bitter taste

You don't know what you have until it's gone.

[br0kenangel]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Part 1 ♡ Part 2

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

[gtgbabie0]

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{Aegon takes pleasure in his cups… and in between your thighs although it’s all the same to him}

!!-18//MDNI-!! I was listening to Amy Whinehouse whilst writing this, enjoy my lovelies💕

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The hour of the bat was well and truly upon Kings Landing, the crescent moon resting against the abyss of the night sky as it casts down a silvery hue that bleeds throughout the Red Keep. With the absence of the sun, you found peace, resting on the velvety divan with a book in hand.

You were lost within the chapters as Aegon paces the length of your bedchambers before collapsing next to you on the divan, leaning up against cushions with a heavy sigh.

“They all belittle me… they all take me for a fool.” He huffs, pointing over to the door of your chambers, still complaining about today’s council meeting with a deep frown. You had already said your piece yet it seems Aegon was not done venting to you.

He looks up to you, opening his mouth to complain about how you ‘need to pay attention to him and not the book’ however the words fall short, dissolving on the tip of his tongue as he stares at you completely star-stuck.

His lips curl into a lopsided grin, the sight of you and the slightly sheer fabric of your nightslip that veils your body, how the fireplace bathes you in a warm orangey light, you had a beauty that captivated him wholly.

“Fuck them… fuck, all of them.” He declares suddenly, although deep down he doesn’t mean the words, not really, you can tell by the way his amethyst eyes flicker with hesitation, glancing down at his fidgeting hands.

“Aegon—” you start, but your words are quickly cut off by him, his rough palm resting against your cheek.

His gaze meets your own, shuffling closer to you, his lips curling downwards in a nonchalant manner. “No, I don’t need any of them, just you.” His words are hushed, only meant for your ears.

With a sigh your eyes soften in an understanding, for you know his only desire is to be admired or at the very least just simply liked. You close your book, leaning over him to place it on the wooden table.

“And you have me, no matter what the future holds.” You reaffirm his words, watching him closely as he lets out a shaky sigh which he tries his best to conceal.

There was an instability in Aegon’s life, save for you, his only constant in a world of ever-changing conditions. Perhaps that is why he clings to you the way he does, arms wrapped tightly around your soft waist with his head nuzzled into the crook of your neck.

“I am not as malleable as they think… I will win, I will burn down anyone who goes against me.” He whispers against the curve of your jaw, confidence weighing against his tone. His hand slips in between the gap of your nightslip to caress your bare waist down to your hip, the cool metal of his wedding band sends a chill down your spine.

He needed a distraction, the pressure from the heavy crown he never asked for was too much for him to endure alone. He needed to not feel like such a disappointment for even just a small moment.

He kisses the small spot behind your ear, an invitation, to which your head instinctively tilts to the side, enticing him to leave open-mouthed kisses along your neck. His lips linger against your pulse point with a small grin, the sound of your pleasured sigh hitting his ears.

“Of course, I do not doubt you, you know that.” You whisper through a shaky voice, steeped in desire. Your body jolts, a soft gasp, at the feeling of his teeth nipping the sensitive skin on your throat before kissing the spot once then twice.

He hums in acknowledgement, pulling back to admire you. His palm still cupping your cheek with a certain hint of possessiveness, it shows in the way he thumbs at your bottom lip. “Hmm, you might be the only one who does, my pretty wife.” He whispers, all of his worries and troubles slowly ebbing away.

The atmosphere around the pair of you suddenly changes, the air becoming so thick that you’re sure it could snuff out the candles around you.

“Yours… all yours Aegon.” The words come out in one breath, tumbling past your parted lips as his fingertips graze along your lower abdomen, slipping through the coarse hair on your mound before dipping past your slick folds.

The rough pads of his finger slides along your slit to collect your wetness before finding your clit, rubbing slow circles against the sensitive bud, testing the waters, as you melt into the divan. Aegon chuckles against your shoulder, enjoying the way your thighs spread and your hips writhe with desperation for more.

He sinks down onto the floor, kneeling between your thighs, ready to pray at the altar of your body. He immediately pushes the silk fabric of your nightdress up past your thighs, letting it pool around your hips.

“I’ve been deprived of you for weeks…” he mutters, leaving marks against your hip-bones, sucking at the sensitive skin, before soothing them with a gentle kiss or two.

You watch his lilac eyes go dark with a carnal craving, the way his hands greedily feel up your thighs, squeezing the supple fat harshly, it all only elicits more gasps and moans from you.

He coos against the inside of your thigh, nudging one leg over his shoulder and propping the other up on the divan to spread out in front of him, the sight of your soaked cunt going straight to his hardening cock. “I’ll be gentle… so gentle.” He smirks, a lie, lips trailing over your inner thighs with all tongue and teeth as your hips buck upwards in anticipation.

He tuts, fingers digging into your hips to keep you still. All too suddenly he’s tugging you closer to him roughly, making you slouch against the cushions of the divan with a shocked gasp.

Your fingers bury within his white choppy hair, pulling him closer to your aching heat as his tongue trails along your cunt, flicking against your clit with a groan. He smirks into your soaked folds, the sound of your whiny moans, the way his name falls from your parted lips in a hunger only he could satisfy, it all makes his skin burn.

“Keep moaning… let me hear you.” He encourages, words muffled against your slickness, lips pressed to your clit, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your sensitive bud trying to elicit more sweet noises from your lips as he hums in delight.

A broken moan escapes you, your hips grinding upwards in tandem with his lips and tongue. “Oh, Aegon… more please.” You cry out, a woman possessed by pleasure.

It is the same possession that causes you to arch your back up from the divan to try and get closer to him. His fingers squeezing into your hips, a warning, his tongue lapping up your desire before teasing your entrance, practically drinking from you as if you were a chalice of Arbor Red.

Aegon flattens his tongue against your cunt, licking up to your clit once more with a muffled moan, sucking on it with delight. “Tastes so sweet…” The vibrations from his words only serve to add to the searing heat that begins to pool deep within your lower abdomen, leaving you a panting mess.

“Aegon, don’t stop… I’m so close.” your hands pull helplessly at his hair, drawing him impossibly closer. He chuckles at your wanton need, how you shamelessly grind yourself against his mouth without a care in the world.

He pushes his fingers inside of you with ease, humming in pleasure at the way your heat sucks in his digits. Aegon fucks you with them you at a tantalising pace whilst licking at your sensitive bud. You look down at him, your mouth agape, watching his head move against you so eagerly as you teeter along the line of release.

“Gods— Aegon!” You cry out his name with a broken moan, your slick walls clamping around his fingers as he continues to curl them deep inside you, still kissing greedily at your clit. He mumbles sweet, loving words of encouragement as he drinks up your orgasm. The wet sounds fill the silence of your bedchambers as you come down from your high with shaky breaths that come out in puffs.

He looks up at you with a cocky smirk, pride blooming through his chest, his lips and chin slick with your release. He pushes himself back onto the divan, leaning over you. “You are truly all I need, all I want.” He whispers feverishly, his fingers wrapping around your jaw to bring your lips to his own.

The taste of you against his lips is all you need to deepen the messy kiss, both of you melting into each other's warmth in a mixture of lust and love. He would take this as long as he could, until you were completely satiated. And even then, he would push for more. He was addicted to you.

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[adragonprinceswhore]

Teaching the Unteachable

Aegon Targaryen x Wife

Summary: When all else fails, Aegon's wife employs drastic measures to teach the unteachable.

Warnings: 18+, banter, (slight) dom/sub, temperature play, wax play, dry humping, dirty talk, Aegon being horny and in love

A/N: So, apparently this smutty drabble I wrote in December turned out to be canon? Anyway, have some more 'Aegon being bad at High Valyrian', but with a fun, sexy twist ✨

Word Count: 1200

. • ☆ . �� .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　

“No, you need to roll your R’s. Like this: zaldrīzes” 

Aegon rolls his eyes before mockingly impersonating you, “zaldrīzes”. 

“No no, place the tip of your tongue by the roof of your mouth”, you explain, demonstratively opening your mouth to show your husband how he should place his tongue to achieve the sound he hadn’t yet mastered. 

Aegon’s eyes light up in mischief as he regards you. “I’m afraid I do not quite understand, my love. Perhaps if you place your tongue in my mouth, you can demonstrate it for me?” 

Now it is your turn to give him an unimpressed look. 

“If you want the realm to view you as a true Targaryen, you need to know how to speak like one”, you chide him, eyes sternly locking with his. 

“I do not give a shit about how the realm views me”, Aegon replies, tone sincere yet playful, “All that is of matter to me is how tempting my wife appears when she speaks of proper tongue placement”. 

You’re sitting next to each other by the table placed a few paces from the hearth burning in your shared chambers, Aegon’s hand continuously playing with your fingers. 

“You come to me sulking over the fact that your High Valyrian is no better than it was back when we were mere babes”, you sigh, “begging me to teach you”

Aegon hums as he bends your ring finger in his palm.

“Yet you do not listen to a word I say”, you scold him, pulling your hand away from his grip. 

“My love, I have come to a regretful realisation”, he replies with feigned gravity weighing heavy in his voice, “I’m afraid I’ll need another tutor” 

You answer his declaration by raising an impassive brow. A grin breaks out on his face. 

“One that doesn’t make my cock hard as soon as she opens her mouth”. 

Your eyes go wide at his crude remark, hand coming up to lightly smack him on the chest for his lewdness. 

“Aegon-“

He winks before moving closer to you, restless hands coming up to squeeze your thighs over your skirts, “Call me husband”

It is hard to stay mad at him in playful times like these, when he uses every charismatic trick he knows. Yet you have to remain strong, if only on the outside. 

“Why should I waste my days teaching the unteachable?”

“I am your husband. Your valzȳrys”, Aegon triumphs, hands moving up to pinch the flesh of your hips over the satin fabric you’re donning.  

One of the candles adorning the wooden table by you draws its last breath, hot wax running down its side. Your finger comes up to collect some, a pleasant chill running through your body at the sudden sting of warmth. 

“You can’t even say that right”, you tell him, a petty ridicule you know he won’t take to heart. Your eyes stay fixed on the wax slowly hardening on your fingertip. 

“Then teach me” 

His hands grab onto your sides tighter, pulling you off your chair and towards him. Instead of giving in too quickly, you resist his demand momentarily, feet steady on the floor to hinder him from pulling you onto his lap.

“Valzȳrys, I think you’re in due need of a punishment. For being such a disobedient pupil, and for talking about your tutor in such lewd ways”, you say, voice serious but eyes shining with mischief. 

Aegon looks up to meet your gaze, the grin on his face growing wider as he nods. 

You climb onto his lap, straddling him. Your noses almost knock together from the close proximity. He brings his hands to rest around your waist, but you grab them both and gently place them on the armrests of the chair. 

“No touching”, you instruct and he nods obediently. 

You’re sure you can sense the rigid proof of growing arousal where your centres meet, and your strict demeanour almost falters at the realisation. You haven’t even begun, yet your husband is desperate for you. 

You fight off a victorious smile as you pick up one candle, flame still burning, and look into Aegon's lilac eyes. The hand not holding the candle moves to untie the strings at the top of the undershirt he’s wearing. 

“If you fail to properly recite the words I ask you to say”, you start, the grin you’d tried to fight off causing the corners of your mouth to twitch upwards, “I get to pour wax on your chest”

Your husband’s eyes light up in intrigue, “And if I say the words correctly?”

“You’ll be awarded the satisfaction of knowing you are coherent in your native tongue”, you respond sternly. Aegon watches you expectantly. 

“Wife”, you begin your unwonted examination, swirling the lit candle between your fingers.

“Ābrazyrys”, Aegon confidently replies, raising his face in pride. 

You tilt the candle to the side, allowing the hot wax to pour down onto his slightly exposed chest. He gasps in surprise and you tut at his reaction.

“Atrocious pronunciation”, you chastise your husband, eyes shining with amusement. He inhales deeply, hands gripping the sides of the chair tightly. 

“Again”, you demand. 

“Ābrazyrys”, he breathes out, a whimper escaping his lips as you pour more wax on his chest. You are now certain that the hardness against your centre is evidence of how much he’s enjoying your teaching method, so you languidly roll your hips against his.

“Ābrazyrys”, you correct him as he grunts at the feeling of your core pressing against his. The wax on his chest had congealed, resembling pearls resting on his flustered skin. 

The alluring sight causes you to momentarily lose your senses, pressing a kiss against his lips; the flustered pink tint of his cheeks too appealing. When you pull away, he follows your mouth for more, but you give him a pointed look and continue, 

“Thank you, wife”

“Kirimvose, ābrazyrys”, Aegon all but moans as you pour more wax down his chest in the middle of his utterance. Having him at your mercy, torturing him with stinging pleasure, has rendered you wanton as well, causing you to roll your hips against his more forcefully to dull the ache blooming there; waiting to be attended to. 

You lean forward, swiping your tongue over your husband's soft lips. He pays no heed to your instructions any longer, hands leaving the armrest to circle your body, pressing you closer to him as he devours your mouth. He pushes your body in a silent plea for you to continue rocking against him, and you comply, eager to soothe your neglected core. 

The passion between you almost causes you to forget the still burning candle in your hand, but you manage to detach from his lips long enough to blow it out, fingertips once again pressing into the melted wax on the top. Before it solidifies over your skin, you grab the sides of Aegon’s chin, messily pressing the wax into his flesh as you steer his face towards yours, kissing him deeply as he hisses in stinging bliss. 

Perhaps he truly needs another tutor? 

One that doesn’t get her cunt wet as soon as he opens his mouth.

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Thank you for reading! 🩵

[sonolynn]

What The Fates Allow

summary | "The Dragon can have whatever, and whomever they wish", is what Daemon had told Rhaenyra before she bedded her uncle, Daemon Targaryen. In secret she gave birth, and in secrete she sent the babe away. Years later the girl would return, only to become the object of the Ursurper's affections.

pairing | Aegon x Rhaenyra'd Bastard!Reader

tags | SOME EXPLICIT CONTENT Mentions of bastards, infidelity, swearing, some parts might be 18+, talks of murder, talks of sucicidal thoughts, grief, overall angst, fluff, smut, the whole deal.

note(s) | I will be (trying) to update this every week on Saturday!

Chapter navigation:

Prologue

Chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

[moonlightrafe]

Watermelon Sugar

summary: Family brunches are boring, Aegon makes them more fun.

pairing: Modern!Aegon Targaryen x Niece!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: Explicit smut, alcohol consumption, incest in a modern setting (whoops), fingering, p in v sex, semi-public sex 18+ MDNI

note: This is a repost …. Feedback is appreciated!

The warm sun illuminated your skin as you reluctantly made your way over to your seat for brunch. Viserys had planned it — his own feeble attempt to bring your fractured family together, even if it was only for a brief moment. For the most part, it worked. Everyone tried to behave themselves, though gatherings like this usually ended in a confrontation of some sort.

Before you even arrived at your seat, you felt a hand wrap around your waist, tugging at the hem of your sundress.

"Whew! Who are you all dressed up for?"

Aegon asked as you batted his hand away, shooting him a look of disapproval.

There was an unspoken thing between the two of you, everybody knew it. However, you didn't need him pawing at your waist in front of the entire family.

"Charming as ever I see."

He flashed a grin at you in response; that boyish smile of his made you weak in the knees.

"Here," he handed you the mimosa that was in his hand, "you're going to need it," he whispered before making his way back to his own seat.

You kept your eye locked on him as he retreated to his designated spot. Noting that Aemond was muttering something to him as he sat down.

"What?" he retorted, "I can't say hi to our niece?" Turns out, Aemond wasn't the only one annoyed with Aegon's show of affection.

"You'd think he would know better than to encourage you to drink at this hour," your brother admonished you, nodding his head toward Aegon in annoyance.

"It's brunch, Jace," you say before taking a large sip of the mimosa, "live a little."

"Right. Because Aegon needs an excuse to drink at noon."

"Please," you pleaded, "don't start."

"I'm not," he huffed, before shoveling a forkful of eggs in his mouth, "I'm just saying."

Thankfully your brother's comments ended there and so far everything was going well. Lucerys was sat next to Daeron — as far away from Aemond as possible, which was key to any family event running smoothly. The two young boys were talking loudly about a video game. Your mother and Alicent were giggling amongst themselves, talking so low you couldn't decipher what they were saying. Aemond sat stoically in his seat, occasionally stealing a glance at Helaena, who was tapping aimlessly at her phone, playing some sort of trivia game that you could only assume had something to do with bugs.

Every so often Aemond would glare at you, and then at Aegon who was now three mimosas deep.

If you could make it through brunch peacefully, you would find yourself back at the keep with your family later that evening. And if you played your cards right, you'd get your claws into Aegon.

It didn't take long for you to figure out that family gatherings such as these served to be rather boring when there was no fighting involved.

Staring down at the plate of fruit in front of you, an idea popped into your head. Maybe you could make your own fun.

You plucked a piece of watermelon from the plate and took a small bite, allowing the juice to run down your chin onto your chest. Rubbing your thumb along your bottom lip, swirling the juice in a fake attempt to clean yourself up. Innocently glancing over at Aegon through your lashes. His eyes were fixated on your breasts, flicking them up to make direct eye contact as you began to suck on the fruit. His lips parted in anticipation as he watched you.

But, Aegon wasn't the only one watching, Aemond's eye was also locked on you. He was hard to read, but he looked disappointed by your actions. Feeling heated and a bit flustered you decide to go freshen yourself up.

"If you would excuse me, I’m going to go to the restroom," you announced to the table before making a beeline to the other side of the restaurant.

As you went to shut the door behind you, a hand shot through and Aegon made his way into the small space with you.

"What are you doing?!" You hiss.

"What am I doing?! What are you doing?" He spun you around and wrapped his arms around you tightly, pressing his bulge against your backside.

"What are you doing? Huh?" He repeated as he inhaled the sweet scent of your hair. A mixture of apple from your shampoo, and vanilla from your perfume.

"Gods, you're going to be the death of me," he groaned in your ear.

"This dress," he rasped, releasing his grasp on you to tug at the hem of it, "that little show you put on out there." His large hand came down and smacked your ass harshly, causing you to yelp.

Aegon wasted no time and lifted you up onto the marble counter with quickness, kissing you deeply.

Against your will, a moan escaped your lips.

Aegon took this as an okay to continue. Snaking his tongue into your mouth, pushing your legs apart so he could settle in between them.

He tasted so good — remnants of orange juice, champagne and a subtle hint of tobacco filled your senses. His hands dug into your thighs with such force, you were sure his rings were going to leave marks, but you didn't care. He nipped at your your neck and kissed down your chest, licking the sticky remnants of the watermelon juice from the valley of your breasts.

Once he made his way further down, he began to began to take his time. Lifting your dress slowly, the pads of his fingers ghosting your thighs. The anticipation was killing you.

"Mmm, Aeg. Please," you whined.

He chuckled at you and lifted your dress up, bunching it around your hips to reveal your underwear. He took a minute to admire the damp spot that was forming in the center, and you felt a slight blush form across your cheeks. His thick fingers finally made contact with your pussy, rubbing them against the thin, lacy, material of your panties. He looped his fingers through the sides and quickly ripped them down your legs, exposing you to the cool air. He took no time to slide his fingers through your folds, gathering your slick.

"Oh look at you," he purred appreciatively, "so naughty, baby."

A loud moan erupted from your chest as he used his index finger to slowly trace around the opening of your cunt, each swipe had you silently begging he would slip it inside.

That devilish grin of his flashed across his face once more as he looked up at you.

"Don't get desperate on me now. l've barely even touched you. Gotta keep quiet, huh baby?"

A simple nod in response was all you were able to give him.

"Good girl" he drawled as he pushed his finger into you.

"Fuck, Aeg. Feels s'good," you whispered.

His tongue darted out to lick his lips as he began to move his hand faster, adding a second finger in. The pleasure was so overwhelming you forgot where you were. In a cramped, unisex bathroom, with your entire family seated at a table not too far away from the door.

All you cared about was that you wanted more, no, needed more. You squirmed against him, trying to get his fingers deeper into you.

He took the hint and obliged. Pressing them harder into you, pumping in and out with vigor.

He used the calloused pad of his thumb to push violently against your clit. He reached the spongy spot within your walls and pressed firmly into it, his free hand pushing down on your stomach as he continued to thrust his fingers. Occasionally scissoring them, stretching you out even more. It soon became too much for you. You felt your stomach drop and your walls tighten as your cunt squeezed around his digits.

"Thereee she is," he sing-songed. That's it, good girl."

He continued to fuck you with his fingers through your orgasm. Your ears rang, your vision blurred and white-hot electricity pumped through your veins. When he finally removed his fingers from your pussy he brought them up to your mouth, watching with bright eyes as you sucked your release off them, pushing them down your throat causing you to gag a little.

Releasing his fingers from your mouth you shimmied off the bathroom counter, fumbling to unbuckle Aegon's pants.

"Uh uh, baby. We will have time for me later. We have brunch to get back to.

As eager to please you as he was, Aegon was not one to usually turn down his own pleasure. You were unsure if he was being serious, or if he just wanted to hear you beg for it.

"Aeg, please."

He didn't need anymore convincing.

"Put your hands on the counter," he demanded as he spun you around. Unbuckling his belt, sliding his jeans and boxers down his legs with quickness; allowing his already hard cock to spring free and slap against his stomach. Lifting your leg before shoving himself between your folds. You groaned and tried to push yourself closer to him. He let out a laugh and smacked your ass, causing you to jolt forward.

"Be still," he growled.

You nodded your head eagerly, the palms of your hands resting against the cold marble. He filled you to the hilt with one single thrust, spearing you open.

As he began to move in and out of you, his hands tugged at your hips. "Oh, fuck!" you mewled loudly before his palm slapped over your mouth to keep you quiet.

He leaned over you, panting with his breath hot on your ear.

"What would Jace think," he whispered, venom in in his voice, "knowing that his precious little sister is a whore for my cock, huh?" You bit down your lip and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to cum for a second time from his lewd words.

"Or Aemond?" he taunted, "our prim and perfect niece bent over for me like a dirty little slut."

Agon bit down hard on your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin, causing you to moan and arch your back, meeting his thrusts. He makes direct eye contact with you in the mirror as he continued to pound into you.

"Oh, you like that, huh? You like being my dirty little slut?" You nodded your head feverently, the walls of your cunt contracting, sucking him in.

"You gonna cum again for me baby? Gonna make a mess on my cock?"

"Fuck, yes. I'm gonna cum! Aegon, please, please make me cum."

Your nails dug into the counter as he fucked into you, the head of his cock pressed against your sweet spot with precision. He reached up, grabbing your breast, pinching your nipple roughly, pushing you over the edge one final time.

Your second orgasm washed over you with such intensity, it was almost painful. Your cunt squeezed around Aegon's cock, threatening to pull his own release from him.

"Shhh, that's it, there you go," he cooed. With a few more harsh thrusts against your cervix, his cock twitched inside you, pearly ropes of him coating your walls.

You could feel his heart beating through his chest, as his breathing slowed down. He kissed your neck and nuzzled his head inyour hair before quickly pulling out of you, immediately pulling his pants back up.

"Holy fuck," you breathed as he handed you back your underwear.

Whatever train of thought you had was interrupted by a knock.

"We're leaving! And you guys are assholes!”

Aemond's voice called from the other side of the door.

The two of you burst out laughing before making your way out of the bathroom.

[aemondsbabe]

Little Love

summary: aegon comes to your chambers crying and needing comfort, but what happens when your husband walks in?

pairing: aemond targaryen x reader x aegon ii targaryen

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, mommy kink!! i cannot stress that enough!! astronomical amounts of titty suckin', nipple/breast play, oral (f receiving), handjob, fingering, piv, angst but happy ending, hand on throat but no choking, subby aegon, breeding kink, creampie, consensual threeway relationship, let me know if i missed any!

word count: 6k oops

a/n: header image is for aesthetics only & is not used to describe the reader! a huge huge thanks to my honorary wife & this fics adoptive mother @toms-cherry-trees 🩵 thank you for all your help with this one!!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Aww,” you coo softly, eyes filled with adoration as you study the man on your lap, “Are you mommy’s precious little baby? Hm?” You brush a silvery lock of hair off of his face, trailing your thumb over the light flush across his cheeks as your other hand rubs soothingly over one of his biceps. 

Aegon hummed and nodded as best he could around your pert nipple, bright eyes lazily blinking up at you. One of your thumbs gently sweeps away tears from the corners of his eyes while you gently rock him as best you can, gazing at him with a smile. You stay quiet for a while, taking pleasure in the way he clings to you so needily, the way he’s looking at you as if you hung the stars in the sky. 

You can’t help the sigh that leaves your lips at the feel of his warm mouth around your nipple, his tongue flicking and teasing at the sensitive skin as he carefully suckles it in his mouth. “Shh,” you whisper, calming Aegon when you see another wave of tears threatening to spill from his violet eyes, “I promise there is nothing to worry yourself over, my little prince,” you tell him softly, trying to squeeze him somehow closer to you, “Just rumors, nothing more.”

You couldn’t help but feel protective of Aegon, your heart twisting as you remember the state he was in at the beginning of the evening when he had first loudly burst into your chamber. 

The fire in the hearth warmed your skin as you sat on the sofa in the small sitting area of yours and Aemond’s chambers, easily guiding the needle through the fabric of your embroidery as you hummed a song. With a sigh, you held the hoop up and tilted your head as you examined your work, nearly dropping it when you jumped at the sound of the heavy doors of your chambers crashing open. 

You jumped up, whirling around to see who could’ve possibly been disturbing you in such a manner, already glaring before you’d even turned your head. Your narrowed eyes widened however when you saw Aegon striding toward you, a pained look on his face.

“Is it true?” He had questioned, coming to a stop a little ways away from you, voice shaking even through the angry tone of his voice. 

“Is what true?” Your eyebrows furrowed together in confusion as you clasped your hands in front of you. 

His frown had faltered for a second, eyes already sparkling with tears as his hands clenched at his sides. “The whispers in court,” he explained, gaze flitting from you to the stone floor, “The rumors about – about you and my brother.” 

Shaking your head, you had carefully walked toward him, “My love, I am sure they are untrue,” your voice had been gentle, “I cannot even imagine what they would be ab—“ 

“That you’re pregnant!” His voice was thick with unshed tears as he spit out the words, “That you must be!” This had left you dumbfounded, unable to do anything but gawk at him, which had only served to upset him further. He had sighed heavily and fixed you with a tearful gaze, bottom lip quivering, “So it’s true?” 

“No!” You rushed out, emphatically shaking your head as you hurried to him. “My love, my sweet baby,” your fingers carded through his hair when you reached him. You had gently pulled his gaze to yours before you had cupped his cheeks, your fingers already damp from the tears streaking them, “That is nothing more than court gossip, I promise you. I swear upon the Mother, you’ve nothing to worry about.” 

The dam had finally broken as he hiccuped out a sob, his shoulders sagging. “D-Do you mean it?” He’d asked meekly, voice so small you had felt your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. 

“Oh,” you had taken his hands in yours and led him to your bed, sitting him down at the edge as his body started shaking with sobs. Sitting next to him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, gently cupping the back of his head as he slumped against you and rested a wet cheek against your chest. “My little prince, I swear to you I do,” you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, rocking the two of you together, “You know Aemond and I would not do that to you.” 

His fingers had clung to your sides as he sobbed, hands bunching in the fabric of your gown. “They’re saying it’s been long enough,” he’d said mournfully, “Th-That it’s been three moons since the w-wedding and y-you must be by now.” 

You’d stroked his hair comfortingly and rested your chin on the top of his head, feeling his hot tears trail down your cleavage, “You know your brother and I would speak with you first, my love. We would not leave you out, you know how this arrangement works.”

The only answer you got was a small sniffle, his shoulders still trembling, although not nearly as badly. You had let him calm down for a moment more, rocking him against you while you hummed his favorite song. 

Eventually, he had calmed down, his shoulders steadying and his breath evening out. You had almost assumed he was asleep before you heard him whimper against your collarbone, pink lips mouthing needily at your skin. Your lips had quirked up in a smile as you had gently pulled him up, his small whine making you chuckle as you looked into his eyes.

“Do you need some time with mommy, my little love?”

Which is how you found yourself in your current position – reclined on the plush pillows of your bed with Aegon’s head in your lap, his lips eagerly suckling at your breast, not getting any real milk but the action calmed him still. You shiver slightly in the cool breeze that wafts in from the balcony, the air growing colder now that the sun has set. 

Aegon sighs contentedly, his warm breath fanning across your chest as small whimpers and whines slip past his lips. The small noises make you chuckle as you run a hand over his bare chest, “You’re my favorite little prince, do you know that?” You whisper, softly tickling his side enough to make him giggle and squirm. He smiles around your breast and nods happily, his nose digging into the fat of your breast as he presses himself more firmly against you. 

You stiffen a little at the sound of your chamber door opening once again, unable to see the entryway from the decorative screen you and your husband had placed in front of the bed. You make no move to disturb Aegon, though – bless the poor maids but there is not much they haven’t seen already. It is not a maid, however, that rounds the corner and you are instead met with the wide, surprised eye of your husband. 

After a second, the shock melts off of his face and he smirks at the sight of the two of you, his older brother still suckling away at your breast as if nothing were amiss. “My, my,” he tuts, stalking across the room to deposit the stack of books he carries onto the small breakfast table by the balcony before returning his attention to you once more, “I left my wife this morning dripping with my spend and already I return to a babe.”

“Aemond!” You hiss, frowning when you hear Aegon whimper at your chest, “Please, he is already in a state.”

“And in our chambers,” Aemond takes a seat at the table, unlacing his boots before setting them to the side, along with his leather tunic, “Normally you two reserve this… intimacy for his rooms.” His long fingers quickly untie his trousers, leaving them hanging from his slender waist as he moves about your chambers, poking the fire in the hearth back to life and tidying the papers on the writing desk. 

You soothe Aegon when he whimpers again, looking up at you with questioning, unsure eyes as a blush blooms on his cheeks. Even if his brother knows the details of your relationship with him, and even though he had walked in on him in this exact position before, he couldn’t help but feel so shy and vulnerable when he got this way. 

“Shh, my sweet,” you speak softly to the man at your breast, running your fingers through his pale hair, “Just relax, you’re okay.” Your words seem to settle him and his eyes grow droopy and half-lidded once more, a contented groan rumbling through his chest. 

“You should have seen him earlier,” you turn back to Aemond, eyes following him as he walks to your dressing table, “Poor thing came crying about court gossip.” You didn’t miss the small eye roll your husband gave at you calling his brother “poor thing” but you chose to ignore it for the time being; you didn’t love their endless taunts and teasing but they were still brothers, after all. 

“And what was the sweet babe weeping about this time?” Aemond asks, his voice dripping with derision as he takes a cloth from the small wash basin on the dressing table and quickly wipes at his neck and shoulders, droplets of water streaming down his defined frame and running into the lines and dips of the muscles on his chest, arms, and abdomen. 

Aegon growls at your chest, not missing the mockery in his brother’s tone. You try to calm him but it’s no use, he pulls off of your chest and throws Aemond a vicious look; you merely make yourself comfortable against the pillows and sigh tiredly. Gods be good, you thought, staring up at the stone ceiling as if the Seven would appear to offer their guidance; you love the two brothers more than anything else but you could do without their brotherly spats. 

“Well?” Aemond goads, his eye widening as he stares at his brother, a silent challenge.

“He feared I was pregnant,” you interject quickly, attempting to quell the coming squabble before it broke out, “Apparently the ladies of court have nothing better to do than monitor my condition.” You put an arm around Aegon as you speak, as if keeping him close to you would keep the two men from bickering. 

“You are my wife,” Aemond huffs out a sardonic laugh, a smirk playing at his lips as he wrings out the cloth and leaves it to dry on the side of the wash basin, “Why would it be of his concern if –”

Aegon growls against your breast again, letting your nipple fall from his pink lips as he fixes his brother with a glare, one that falters for half a second as you protectively tighten your hold on him. His dark eyes continue to glare at Aemond, following his every move as he comes to stand at the side of the bed, arms crossed over his chest as he studies the two of you. 

“Hush, my love,” you pet at his head and shoulders in an attempt to soothe him once more, glaring at your husband in warning, “This is nothing we need worry ourselves with tonight.” 

Aemond comes to sit next to you on the bed, giving Aegon a quick glare before he leans down and places a tender kiss to the top of your head. “You’re right,” he says into your hair, one hand coming up to cup the side of your face, “We need not trouble ourselves with it tonight.” 

Aegon huffs against your chest once more and gives his brother a final warning glance before looking up at you with a questioning gaze, pouty lips parted in an unspoken question. 

“You need some more time with mommy?” You ask him softly, grinning when he shyly nods, still so skittish of his needs around his brother. You coo and give him a nod, unable to stop the sigh that leaves you at the feel of his mouth on you once more. His tongue delicately licks at your hardened nipple before he sucks it into his mouth, still teasing it as he suckles. 

You admire him for a moment, studying the way his long lashes fan out over his cheeks once his eyes slip closed, his arms wrapped protectively around your middle as he kneels at your side. 

Finally, you turn your head to Aemond, surprised to see his eye trained on his brother, watching as he nurses at your breast. “Husband?” You ask tentatively; your relationship with both brothers was not a secret, at least not between the three of you, but even still, you rarely had them at the same time. 

His eye finally meets yours and he smiles, cuddling you closer, which earns a small whine from Aegon as he’s forced to move a fraction of an inch with you. “You needn’t worry so much,” he keeps his voice soft as he speaks, trailing kisses down your temple and cheek, “I’m merely thinking.” 

“About?”

“Putting a babe in you,” he all but growls into your ear before kissing the delicate skin just below it. “Seeing you grow with my child,” he continues, one hand skimming up your arm before he cups your unoccupied breast, long fingers kneading it gently before they pinch at your nipple, “Watching as these swell with your sweet milk.”

A shiver rolls through you at the thought, and at the salacious groan that vibrates from Aegon’s mouth. Your husband smirks at your reaction, watching proudly as your eyes become cloudy and unfocused. 

“Do you like that?” Aemond asks against the column of your throat as his lips and teeth and tongue work against your skin, sucking marks into the flesh, “Like the thought of my seed filling you up, finally taking root?” 

You hardly register Aegon’s whine, eyes squeezed shut as you feel your husband pressing himself to you, lips pressing against any bit of your skin he can reach, chuckling softly at how easy it is to work his brother up. “Wouldn’t that be something, brother?” Aemond questions sarcastically, his eye glimmering mischievously, “Wouldn’t she be so beautiful with my babe in her?”

The older brother grumbles something against you before redoubling his efforts, making you gasp as he begins suckling at you harshly, nose twitching in annoyance. You calm him as best you can, a shaky hand coming up and carding delicately through his hair – Aemond’s ministrations making it hard to concentrate. 

“You’ll be such a good mother, sweetling,” Aemond says lowly, kissing his way down your stomach as he moves to kneel between your thighs, “So perfect and sweet and caring.” He continues, punctuating each word with a kiss against your abdomen, his long hair tickling the skin of your thighs. 

“Aemond,” you pant softly, back arching as Aegon’s teeth just barely graze against your sensitive nipple, “Please!” You beg, though whether it’s to get him to stop taunting his brother or carry on with you, you cannot say. 

“Shh,” he presses wet kisses against one of your thighs, lips trailing slowly up to where you want him most before he tilts his head and begins kissing up the other thigh as well, his pace torturously slow, “I always give you what you want, do I not?”

A loud, uncontained moan tears itself from your throat as Aemond presses a kiss against your folds, groaning into your heat as he tastes you. “Gods, you’re dripping,” he growls into your cunt, practically making out with your center as his hands come to rest on the tops of your thighs, holding you in place, “Did your babe not care for you at all?”

At this, Aegon pauses, whining against your breast as he lifts his head, thin tendrils of drool connecting his shining lips to your hardened nipple. The feeling of his mouth lifting off of you has you finally opening your eyes, only to be met with his wide, uncertain eyes.

“Mommy?” His voice is so small, so terribly worried at the thought that he may have disappointed you somehow. 

“Oh, sweet prince,” you whisper, voice catching in your throat as you gasp at the feel of Aemond sucking your aching pearl into his mouth, worrying the sensitive skin between his lips. Your brows furrow with concentration as your eyes meet Aegon’s, your hands gently cupping his cheeks, “Don’t worry yourself,” you have to pause again as a curse slips past your lips, “You’re my perfect little baby, you could never disappoint me.” 

You finally manage to pant out your reassurances, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head at the feel of Aemond’s hot tongue licking into your center, his nose pressed firmly against your bud as he fucks you on the long muscle, groaning into your slick folds as he savors your sweet taste. You stare desperately into Aegon’s dark eyes, back arching as your husband feasts on your cunt with practiced ease, the slick, squelching sounds of him licking into you and suckling at your pearl making you mewl and blush. 

“You’re so beautiful, mommy,” Aegon murmurs softly, violet eyes staring at you with rapture, as if he’s trying to absorb the pleasure radiating from you, “So pretty.” He breathes finally and leans down to press a soft kiss against your lips, whimpering when he feels your tongue press into his mouth. 

The men hold you like that for a moment, letting you lie back on the bed as they attend to you – Aemond murmuring dirty praises into your cunt as he licks at you wildly, flicking shapes and patterns against your pearl that have your head spinning; Aegon swallowing your wanton moans in his own mouth as he moves his lips against yours. 

You whine against the older brother’s mouth when you feel your husband’s fingers gently prodding your center, gathering wetness on them before carefully pushing two into your heat. “Seven, you’re tight,” his breath is warm against your glossy folds, “Always so tight, feels so good, sweetling.” He purrs before quickly wrapping his lips around your bud once more, gently sucking at the tender flesh but combined with the pressure of his fingers, it’s enough to send you into a tailspin. 

You pull away from Aegon with a gasp, back arching off the bed as you whine Aemond’s name, blushing as you hear the loud wet sounds emanating from where his fingers fuck into your cunt. Faintly, you hear Aegon whimpering next to you, his soft cries almost in time with yours as he presses soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. 

“Mommy, my mommy,” he whispers in reverence, leaning across your chest to get to the breast he’s neglected thus far, kissing softly across your supple skin and teasing your nipple with the tip of his tongue before finally suckling it into his mouth, closing his eyes with a soft groan as he nurses, getting lost in the feel of you beneath him, your skin on his. 

Aegon’s lips around your nipple has you breaking, every muscle in your body seeming to tense up as your high overtakes you. A strange mixture of their names leaves your lips in a rough moan as you squeeze your eyes shut, fire exploding through you. 

“That’s it,” Aemond groans, crooking up his fingers within you as he feels your walls pulsing around them, pressing them into that rough patch he has memorized in your heat, the one he knows prolongs your peak, “Gods, that felt like a big one, sweetling.” 

Somehow, you find it within yourself to nod tiredly, chest heaving as you catch your breath, slinging an arm over Aegon’s back as he sighs happily against your chest. 

“Made you feel good, mommy,” he chuckles proudly around your breast, nipping and licking at your nipple as he tilts his head to meet your gaze, earning an annoyed huff from Aemond as he presses calming kisses against your thighs and hips. 

He’s so proud of himself that you can’t help yourself from smiling and giggling, your fingers carding through his hair. “Oh, yes you did,” you coo, “You made me feel so good, my precious boy.” 

Below you, Aemond bites at your thigh as a warning, making you jump. “Keep it up and you’ll only give him a bigger ego,” he rolls his eyes and presses wet kisses in a trail up your stomach, stopping only when he reaches Aegon, still lying across you. The bed dips as Aemond crawls back up to lie next to you, kissing his way up your neck and jaw before finally slotting his lips against your own.

A whimper escapes your lips as he does, one of your hands reaching up to run your fingers through his long hair, the pale strands threading between your digits like silk. He sighs into the kiss, one of his hands coming up to gently cup your neck, not choking but merely staking a claim. The action makes you mewl and he uses it to his advantage, quickly sliding his tongue across your bottom lip before entwining it with your own as he licks into your mouth. You can feel your face heat up as you taste yourself on his lips, squirming in his hold as Aegon continues licking and suckling at your hardened nipple, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine and quickly reigniting the flames in your belly. 

Aemond smirks as your moans change in pitch, the familiar high-pitched, whiny cadence causing him to let out a low, vibrating growl himself. 

“Please, Aemond,” you whisper against his lips, whimpering as he trails his kisses down your jaw and neck.

Your husband groans softly against your shoulder, a shudder rolling through him at the breathy way you say his name, his favorite sound. “You need not beg me, sweetling,” he sighs, gently gripping your hips and nodding for you to roll onto your side, “I’ve got you.”

Aegon whines as Aemond moves you, struggling to keep his soft lips latched around your peaked nipple, which earns him another eye roll from your husband. Quickly, you settle onto your side, both arms immediately wrapping around Aegon to hold him close. His pale hair tickles your lips as you press a sweet kiss to the crown of his head, softly giggling as he desperately suckles your nipple back into his mouth; your sweet boy could be at your breast for hours and it still wouldn’t be enough for him. 

The bed dips on either side of you as the two men bracket you between them, Aemond behind you and Aegon in front. Your husband presses kisses against the back of your shoulder as he slots himself against you, the warmth of his chest pressing against your back sends a shiver down your spine and makes your already stiff nipples harden to the point of aching. 

“Iksā sīr gevie, ñuha ābrazȳrys,” Aemond whispers against your shoulder as he trails a hand over your curves, humming appreciatively as he palms the swell of your arse, “Avy jorrāelan sīr olvie.” (You are so beautiful, my wife, I love you so much.)

You whimper at his words, your heart twisting happily in your chest as you recall their meaning from the lessons he had given you during your courtship. “Avy jorrāelan tolī, ñuha valzȳrys,” you manage to moan brokenly, “So much, Aemond!” You breathe, foggy brain unable to keep up with translations any longer. (I love you too, my husband.)

A gasp leaves you as Aemond presses himself against you tightly as you realize that he had managed to tug off his trousers at some point, his length slotting beautifully between your thighs as he ruts against you. 

“Gods!” Your slick folds part greedily as your husband rubs against your center, coating his cock in your juices, the tip rubbing deliciously against your pearl, “Oh, Aemond!”

“Shhh,” he breathes against your ear as one of his warm hands latches onto your thigh and pulls it up, giving him more room to guide his cock into your heat, “I’ve got you, sweetling, I have you.”

You nod, near delirious, practically sobbing as he finally guides himself into you, filling you perfectly. Your head lolls back, further into his embrace as he slowly presses into you, stretching you as he finally bottoms out, stones pressed firmly to your backside as a low, gravelly groan vibrates against your back. 

“You feel so good,” you moan breathily, your fingers scrambling through Aegon’s hair as you press his mouth against you, earning a whimper from the prince as he takes your breast further into his mouth, suckling at it greedily, spit leaking from the corners of his lips. 

“Feels perfect,” Aemond huffs, grunting as he begins moving his hips against yours, eye squeezing shut at the feel of your slick walls sucking him in as you quiver around his length, “You feel perfect, tight little cunt.” He mutters, more to himself than to you, hissing the words between clenched teeth.

You let yourself get lost for a moment, a light sheen of sweat blanketing your skin from the heat of the two men around you. You make no attempt to stop soft, satisfied moans from slipping out of your lips, breathing your pleasure against Aegon’s forehead as Aemond rocks into you, thrusting his hips in a well-practiced pattern as he fills you again and again. Your husband’s grip tightens on your thigh, making your eyes roll back deliciously as Aegon flicks his tongue against your nipple before greedily sucking it back into his mouth. 

A few moments later, you’re brought out of your reverie by a slick feeling at the front of your thigh, small whimpers and whines from the man at your breast finally managing to trickle their way into your consciousness. 

You finally open your eyes, letting out a soft moan as you take in the sight before you – Aegon suckling desperately at your sensitive breast, his dark eyes looking up at you pleadingly, already shimmering with unshed tears, as he ruts his hard length against your thigh, already leaking glossy trails onto your skin with every movement.

“Ohh,” you coo softly, pressing a kiss to his sweat-damp forehead as you wrap your hand around his length, feeling it immediately twitch in your grasp, “You need mommy to take care of you?” You ask breathily.

“P-Please,” Aegon whimpers brokenly, flicking his tongue over your nipple as he nods his head, “Hurts!” He whines, voice thick as tears leak from the corners of his eyes. 

You press another comforting kiss to his forehead, gasping in time with Aemond’s hard thrusts as you begin slowly teasing the prince’s hard length, cooing again as you feel him pulsing in your grasp. “What a good boy,” you whine, swirling your thumb against his leaking tip, “Getting so hard from hearing mommy get fucked, hm?”

You feel him shudder against you, a low groan sounding against your breast as his hips fuck up into your hold. He whines as you let go of his cock for a second, quickly running your fingers around where Aemond spears into you. Your husband grunts behind you at the sensation as you quickly gather some of your juices on your fingers, moaning brokenly as you flick them around your pearl for a second before returning your attention to Aegon. 

Your face heats as you suddenly get a dirty idea and you take a second to spread some of your juices across your unoccupied breast, chuckling breathily as Aegon immediately abandons the one he’s currently suckling on, a loud moan snaking past his lips when you wrap your slick fingers around his cock once again, easing his thrusts into your fists. 

“Greedy babe,” Aemond grunts from over your shoulder, watching as Aegon frantically licks around your breast, humming excitedly at your sweet taste before latching onto your nipple once more, “Suckling at any part of my sweet wife he can reach.”

A fire lights in your belly at Aemond’s words as you’re surprised he’s addressing Aegon at all, his teasing lilt only adding to the heat within you. The prince whines within your grasp, his face flushing to a deeper shade of pink than it already is and his violet eyes shoot daggers in his brother’s general direction, not caring that he can’t see them. 

Suddenly, Aemond lets go of your thigh, leaving you to sling it over one of Aegon’s pale hips as he continues thrusting his cock into you, deep and slow. His hand instead settles on one breast and he lovingly palms at it, humming with satisfaction at its weighty feel in his hand. 

A loud whine leaves you as his fingers pinch around your overly-sensitive bud, tweaking and tugging at the swollen skin. Your back arches, loud whimpers tumbling past your lips as his touch borders on pain. Aegon growls at your sounds of discomfort, letting your nipple fall from his lips as he sits up just enough to throw him a malicious glare over your shoulder.

“Ngh!” Your little prince grunts, smacking Aemond’s hand away from you before wrapping an arm around your waist protectively and pressing soft kisses to your abused breast, “Mommy?” He questions softly, teary eyes searching yours, desperately wanting to make sure you’re alright. 

“Shh, shh,” you soothe sweetly, carding your fingers through his hair as he lays his head on your pillow once more, “Mommy’s okay, my sweet, thank you.” Your words are breathy, feeling halfway forced out of you as Aemond’s thrusts speed up, your mind growing fuzzy as the head of his cock moves against the sensitive spot within you perfectly, making you clench around him. Aegon continues thrusting into your grasp, his hands frantically grabbing onto any parts of you he can reach. 

“Pathetic,” Aemond huffs at his brother, biting into the sensitive skin of your neck, “So whiny, fuck, so whiny under your muña’s touch you can’t even speak.” (Mother’s)

Aegon whines again, a high, pitiful sound against your beast as he latches onto you once more, low groans ripping through him as the leaking head of his cock rubs against your soft thigh. 

“Hush,” you admonish, one arm hugging possessively around the prince, “Mommy’s taking good care of her sweet little boy, isn’t she?” 

“Y-Yes,” Aegon breathes brokenly around a soft moan, his cock twitching desperately in your hand, “Yes, yes, yes!” He chants around your breast, soft little words in time with each stroke of your hand. 

You can see him start to lose himself — watching as his eyes grow ever more glossy, tears welling up in the corners while throaty sobs and sighs warm your breast, his length seeming to get somehow thicker in your grasp as the head of his cock positively weeps against you. 

“What a good boy,” you sigh encouragingly, smiling proudly, glowing with the knowledge that you can reduce him to such a state, “Are you close, my sweet?” 

He nods desperately, soft grunts accompanying the thrusts of his hips up into your grasp. You keep your pace steady, your own head swimming as your release builds within you. 

After another few seconds, Aegon begins shaking helplessly in your grasp, his chest heaving as sobs are wrenched from his throat. “That’s it,” you murmur softly, feeling your cunt clench around Aemond’s length at the sight of the prince coming undone before you, making the other man groan loudly behind you, “Come on, I know you’re so close, show mommy how good she makes you feel, my love.” 

As always, your soft approval is what unravels him. You moan loudly, watching him fall apart in your arms, relishing the soft moans and sighs of your name as they fall from his pouty lips, the way his hips stutter in your hold. You gasp softly at the feel of his cock twitching between the two of you, his spend coating his belly and chest in pearlescent streaks.

Before he’s even had the chance to recover, your sweet boy finds it within himself to bring one hand down, greedily seeking out your bud. He sighs happily when you cry out his name, his fingers circling your aching pearl perfectly, just in the way you’d taught him, his chest still heaving with his own release. 

“Oh, Gods!” You gasp, your own hips rutting back and forth between the two men, “So c-close, fuck!” You whine, the fire in your belly threatening to consume you. 

“That’s a good girl,” Aemond grunts, hips thrusting into you at a maddening pace, “Do you want me to breed a baby into your wet little cunt, sweetling?”

You and Aegon whine at the same instant, yours in pleasure and his in annoyance. Your walls clench desperately at your husband's thick length, making him chuckle breathlessly behind you. 

“Find your pleasure, sweet girl,” he groans, his thrusts somehow perfectly timed to the swirls of Aegon’s fingers against your bud, “Peak and I’ll put a little babe in your belly, my love.” 

Aemond’s promise, Aegon’s soft whine, and the feel of their touches mingling on your slick heat finally pushes you over the edge once more. Your cunt pulses around Aemond as you slip over the edge, your pearl buzzing and twitching under Aegon’s fingers as flames of pleasure lick up your spine, sparks exploding behind your eyelids as you cry out against Aegon’s neck. 

Your release claws Aemond’s out of him as well, the feeling of his seed emptying into you spurring your peak on further. You whimper, mouthing at the pale skin of your prince’s throat as you feel warmth bloom within you, your husband’s harsh strokes finally slowing to a stop. 

The three of you lay silent for a while, the only sounds in your chambers being soft pants and sighs. Finally, Aemond carefully pulls his length from you, soothing you gently when you whine. 

“Seven,” he groans softly, watching his seed slip slowly from your spent center, “Perhaps this time we should let it take.” He muses as he gets up from the bed, retrieving a fresh cloth from your dressing table and quickly cleaning your center and thighs.

“But,” Aegon whimpers softly, drawing your attention back to him as he looks at you with wide, worried eyes, “What…what about me?” The meekness in his voice makes your heart ache as you hurriedly hush him, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes with your thumbs. 

“You don’t worry about a thing, my little love,” you reassure him, pulling him into your arms and rocking him slowly against you, “No matter what the future holds, you will always be my precious little prince. I swear it.” You promise, pressing soft kisses to each of his cheeks, one of your hands tickling at his side until he squirms and giggles against you, burying his head in your neck with a tired sigh.

Aemond huffs again, setting his eyepatch on the table by your bed before he assumes his spot next to you once more, slinging an arm over your waist as he makes himself comfortable. 

On your other side, Aegon shuffles down the bed once more, making you giggle softly as he presses feather light kisses to your breast, sighing happily at the mere feel of your supple skin against his lips as he cozies himself against you. 

“Maybe we should hold off on the moon tea this time,” Aemond ponders, mumbling against your shoulder as his fingers trace soothing patterns into the soft skin of your hip, “Surely an actual babe could be no more difficult than the one we already seem to have.” 

Aegon whines, Aemond chuckles, and you tiredly groan.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @hopelesswritergall @phantombitch @fan-goddess @aemshaircare @cuddlejeongin @imaegontatgaryenwife0 @valeskafics @beautbuck @watercolorskyy

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[rottenfyre]

⸻ ʟ ᴏ ᴠ ᴇ ᴍ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Aegon I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: Aegon spends his life desperately trying to win the love of his sister. And yet he's never enough.

Warning: Non-Con (rape), targcest, physical violence, murder, obsessive and delusional behavior, child loss/grief.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to Denis Maznev. Hope you enjoy!

She was always there.

From his earliest memories, her face is etched in his mind like a cold, pale moon. She never smiled, never laughed. Never cried. Just looked. Always watching, always silent. Even as children, while Rhaenys played with him, she was a shadow in the background. A constant presence that gnawed at him, her cold eyes watching him with that empty gaze. It was as if nothing could move her, nothing could please her. But he tried. Gods, how he tried.

He was barely seven, still small but proud of the sword his father had given him. He had trained for hours, his arms aching, his legs sore, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to show her. He wanted her to see him—really see him—for once.

He had run to her, his little chest puffed out with pride, holding his wooden practice sword like it was Blackfyre itself. "Look! Look what I can do!" he had said, his voice bright with excitement. He swung the sword in wide arcs, spinning and thrusting as best as his small body could manage. "Did you see that? I’m going to be a great warrior! You’ll see!"

But she just stood there. Watching. Her face expressionless, her eyes cold, as if she hadn’t seen anything at all. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t even blink. It was like he wasn’t there, like his efforts were meaningless.

He had felt something tighten in his chest then, a feeling he didn’t understand. A hollow ache that made his hands shake as he gripped the sword tighter. He tried again, swinging harder, faster. "Are you watching?!" he had shouted, frustration leaking into his voice.

But she didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t say anything.

She never did.

And that’s how it always was. Every time he tried, every time he showed her something—his victories in the yard, his skills in battle—she just watched. Her cold eyes always on him but never giving him what he craved. Never giving him anything.

But then, that day came. The day that broke something inside him.

He remembers the sound first. The sound of her laughing. It was so foreign, so unexpected that he almost didn’t believe it at first. He had stopped in his tracks, heart racing, the sound of her laughter echoing in his ears like the sweetest music he’d ever heard. For a moment, just a moment, he thought it was meant for him. Finally, he thought, she was laughing. She was happy. Maybe, just maybe, he had done something to make her feel.

But then he saw it.

She wasn’t laughing with him. She wasn’t laughing for him.

She was laughing with a man. Some nobody. A fool. A good-for-nothing who could never even begin to understand her, let alone deserve her. And yet, there she was, her eyes shining, her lips curved into a smile—something Aegon had never seen in all his life. She was radiant, her laughter like music, but it wasn’t for him.

The rage came fast, burning through his veins like fire. How dare this man, this insignificant speck, be the one to bring her joy? How dare she smile for him, laugh for him, when she had never once given Aegon anything but that cold, dead stare? He could hardly see through the fury as he drew his sword, his heart pounding in his ears, and with one swift strike, he cut the man’s head clean off.

The blood sprayed across the floor as the man's body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, useless. And Aegon, triumphant, stood there holding the severed head, his heart racing with the thought that maybe now—now—she would see how much he loved her.

He brought the head to her, a smile tugging at his lips, presenting it like a gift, like an offering to a goddess.

But then, for the first time, he saw her cry.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, silent, like everything else about her. She didn’t wail or scream, just wept, her cold, distant eyes filled with sorrow. But not for him. Never for him. The realization hit him like a dagger to the chest. She wasn’t crying for him. She was mourning the other man, that worthless fool.

Could she not see? Could she not understand what he had done? He had killed for her. For her. To prove his love. Why couldn’t she see that?

It was worse now. So much worse.

He stands in the room, their child’s room, staring at the small bed where their son had once slept. His heart is heavy, his chest tight with grief that he can’t seem to swallow. Tears burn in his eyes, but he doesn’t care. Their child is dead. Gone. And he can barely breathe from the weight of it.

But when he looks at her, she’s standing by the window, her back to him, staring out into the night as if nothing had happened. As if their son wasn’t lying cold and still in the crypts below.

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t scream. She doesn’t even move.

His son, their child, lay lifeless, and yet...she didn’t care. She couldn’t care. The realization gnawed at him, twisting in his chest like a knife. If it had been another man’s child, would she be mourning now? Would she cry for that child, like she had cried for that worthless fool?

"Do you...do you not care?" His voice cracks, the words barely a whisper. He feels like he’s choking on the silence. "He was our child. Our son." His hands tremble, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Why… why?"

She doesn’t answer. Of course, she doesn’t.

She never answers.

The hollow ache that had plagued him since childhood is back, sharper than ever. He stares at her, at her still, cold form, and something inside him snaps. He can feel it, like a tether breaking, a dam bursting inside his mind.

"Why?" he growls, his voice low, trembling with fury. "Why can’t you love me? Is it really so hard?!" He steps toward her, fists clenched, his heart hammering in his chest. "I’ve done everything for you. Everything!"

His hands shake as he grabs her by the shoulders, spinning her around to face him. She looks at him with that same blank, emotionless expression, her eyes cold and distant, as if she’s not even here. As if she’s not even alive.

"I killed for you!" His voice is rising, desperate, wild. "I’ve fought for you, bled for you! I’ve done everything you could ever want, but you—" He pauses, his breath coming in harsh gasps as a dark, twisted thought coils in his mind. "Is this because of him? Because I killed that servant? Did you really think he could love you more than I do? That he deserved you? Him?"

His grip tightens, fingers digging into her flesh. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, the rage coursing through his veins. "I am the one who loves you. I’m the one who’s always loved you!"

She doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t react. Just stares at him with those empty, cold eyes.

The silence is unbearable. It breaks him.

With a roar, he grabs her dress, tearing at the fabric, ripping it apart in his hands. He’s rough, vicious, his fingers leaving bruises on her pale skin as he forces himself onto her.

She doesn’t fight back. Doesn’t scream. She just lies there, blank, her body cold and still beneath his. The more she doesn’t react, the harder he thrusts, the rougher he becomes, as if he can force her to feel something—anything. He can feel the blood, can see the bruises forming on her skin, but she just keeps staring at him, those empty eyes boring into him, cold and unfeeling.

But it didn’t matter.

She will love me. She will.

"You will love me," he growls, his voice low and savage, each thrust more brutal than the last. "You will love me. You’ll see. I’ll make you."

But she doesn’t change. She never changes.

Even as her body bleeds, even as he takes her in the most violent, twisted way, she just looks at him with that same cold, distant stare. As if he’s nothing. As if nothing will ever be enough.

Her eyes stayed cold.

Her eyes stayed empty.

And still, he kept going.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[hisfavegirl]

Fated Misconnections.

Pairing : Aegon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen x Jacaerys Velaryon.

Chapter Summary : A week after the birth of your little brother Joffery, the whispers and abuse your mother received increased. Until she decided for you to move to Dragonstone, a decision that you reluctantly had to agree to.

The news of Rhaenyra’s decision to leave King’s Landing and return to Dragonstone reached every corner of the Red Keep. The whispers grew louder with each passing moment, and soon, everyone knew.

The air in the castle felt tense, as if something monumental was shifting.

You were in your chambers, carefully folding your clothes and placing your small belongings into a wooden chest. The soft rustle of fabric filled the quiet room. Your fingers moved slowly, as if delaying the inevitable. Every item you packed seemed to weigh heavier than the last.

Suddenly, there was a loud bang against the door. Urgent, frantic knocking.

You froze. Before you could respond, the door flew open with a loud creak.

Aegon and Aemond burst into the room. Their breaths were shallow, and their silver hair was a mess from running. Aegon’s eyes were wild, darting around the room before they landed on you and your chest of half-packed belongings. Aemond was calmer, but his eye locked onto you with an intensity that rooted you to the spot.

“No. No. You’re not leaving,” Aegon said breathlessly, storming toward you. His voice was loud, raw with emotion. He stopped right in front of you, his hands hovering near your shoulders as if he wanted to grab you but didn’t know if he should. “You can’t leave. You can’t leave us.”

“Aegon…” you sighed, glancing down at the chest. “I have to. My mother needs me. She needs all of us together.”

“She doesn’t need you,” Aegon shot back quickly, his tone sharp with desperation. His eyes searched yours, his voice cracking slightly. “Not as much as we do. Not as much as I do.”

You felt your heart tighten in your chest.

You glanced at Aemond, hoping for logic, hoping for understanding. But he wasn’t looking at the chest, nor at Aegon. He was looking directly at you. His single violet eye burned with something sharp and unspoken. He stepped forward slowly, his face unreadable but his posture tense.

“You belong here,” Aemond said firmly. His tone wasn’t as wild as Aegon’s, but it was far more resolute. “This is your home. Not Dragonstone. Here. With us.”

“My Mother says otherwise,” you replied softly. “Her place is my place. I am her daughter. I have to follow her.”

Aegon let out a bitter, humorless laugh, dragging a hand through his hair. “She’s taking you away from us! She’s taking everything from us!” His words were sharper than before, louder, laced with anger and sorrow. His eyes darted around the room again, like he was searching for something, a solution, a way to make you stay.

“We don’t care about her,” Aemond said, his voice quieter but far more dangerous. He moved closer, his steps slow but deliberate. His gaze didn’t waver from your face. “We care about you.”

“Aemond… Aegon…” you said softly, reaching for them both. You placed one hand on Aegon’s arm and the other lightly against Aemond’s chest. “You’ll always have me. No matter where I go, I’ll always be with you.”

“No, you won’t,” Aegon muttered bitterly, his head lowering so you could no longer see his eyes. His fists clenched at his sides, and his body shook slightly as if trying to hold himself together. “You’ll leave and forget about us. Just like everyone else does.”

“I would never forget you,” you said firmly, giving his arm a squeeze. “You’re my uncles. My blood. No one could ever replace you.”

Aemond’s gaze narrowed. He tilted his head, studying you, his jaw set in a hard line. He didn’t believe you. Not fully. Not with the way his fingers twitched at his side, like he was gripping the air to stop himself from grabbing hold of you.

“Don’t lie to us,” Aemond said coldly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut through the room like a blade. “You’re going to Dragonstone. You’ll live among them. You’ll fight for them. And one day, you’ll forget about us. You’ll forget who stood by you when you were alone.”

“That’s not true,” you said, frowning deeply. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his cheek. He stiffened at first, but he didn’t pull away. “You know that’s not true, Aemond.”

He didn’t answer. He just stared at you, his gaze unwavering

You stood at the edge of the ship’s deck, the cool sea breeze tangling your hair and brushing against your skin. King’s Landing grew smaller and smaller in the distance, its towering red stone walls slowly vanishing into the horizon. The proud towers of the Red Keep—a place you had called home for so long—looked smaller than ever before.

Your heart ached. No matter how much you had prepared for this moment, leaving was harder than you had expected.

You glanced over your shoulder. Your mother, Rhaenyra, sat on a cushioned bench, cradling your youngest brother, Joffrey, in her arms. Her face was calm but firm, her eyes distant as she gazed at the waves ahead. Her fingers gently stroked Joffrey’s back in soothing circles, and he yawned sleepily, his tiny hands curled into fists.

Laenor sat beside her, his gaze far away as well, though it was clear his thoughts were not on the sea. His fingers tapped against his leg in a slow, restless rhythm. He had always been like that — still on the surface but always moving within.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you leaned against the ship’s railing, gripping the wood tightly. The familiar scents of King’s Landing — warm stone, horse sweat, and the faint tang of the harbor — were slowly replaced by the smell of salt and the endless sea.

You could still hear their voices in your head.

Aegon’s sharp, desperate words. “You’ll leave and forget about us.”

Aemond’s cold, cutting promise. “Don’t lie to us.”

Their faces lingered in your mind. The hurt in their eyes. The way Aegon’s voice cracked when he realized you were really going. The way Aemond had stared at you without blinking, like he was trying to memorize every part of you before you disappeared.

You squeezed your eyes shut, inhaling deeply. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about them.

“Are you alright, my sweet girl?”

Your mother’s voice pulled you back to the present. You turned to see her gazing at you, her head tilted in that soft, motherly way. Concern filled her eyes.

You forced a small smile. “I’m fine, Mother.”

Her gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if she didn’t quite believe you. But she didn’t press you. Instead, she adjusted Joffrey in her arms and glanced at the sea.

“Dragonstone will be different, but it will be home,” Rhaenyra said, her voice quiet but certain. Her eyes flicked to you, firm with the strength of a princess, but there was warmth in them too. “It will be ours. No one will question us there.”

You nodded, but your eyes flickered back toward the shrinking shape of King’s Landing, still faint on the horizon. It didn’t feel like victory. It felt like running away.

“Do you think they’ll miss us?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Your mother’s eyes softened. She reached out, placing a gentle hand on your cheek. Her thumb stroked your skin in slow, soothing motions, just as she had done for Joffrey.

“Of course they will,” she said. “But it’s better this way. Away from the whispers. Away from the wolves.”

Her words were meant to comfort you, but they didn’t. Aegon and Aemond were not wolves. They were your uncles. They were your family.

But as the ship sailed further into the vast, open sea, you knew that family was no longer something you could count on. It was something you had to leave behind.

The journey to Dragonstone had been long and exhausting. The sway of the ship still lingered in your legs as you stood at the base of the steep stone stairs leading up to the castle. The cool sea air, sharp with the scent of salt and smoke, whipped against your face, tugging at your hair and your cloak.

Dragonstone loomed above you like a shadowed giant, its sharp, jagged towers piercing the gray sky. The castle was nothing like the Red Keep. It was rough, ancient, and carved from volcanic rock, with dragon motifs curling along its battlements. It looked more like a beast lying in wait than a home.

Your legs felt heavy, each step requiring more effort than the last. The weight of the journey pressed down on you, and the chill of the sea clung to your bones. Every muscle in your body ached, but you kept moving forward, step by step. Your breath came out in soft, visible puffs, each exhale a sign of your exhaustion.

Ahead of you, your mother, Rhaenyra, ascended the stairs with quiet strength, her posture tall and regal despite her weariness. Her silver-gold hair caught the faint sunlight, glowing like a beacon of Targaryen pride. She did not falter. She never did. Beside her, Laenor carried little Joffrey in his arms, the boy’s head resting against his shoulder as he slept, oblivious to the world.

Your brothers, Jace and Luke, climbed ahead of you, racing each other up the stairs, laughing as though they had not spent days on a swaying ship. Their giggles echoed against the stone, breaking the quiet of the wind.

“Come on, slowpoke!” Luke called back to you, grinning mischievously. “We’ll reach the top before you!”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. His energy was endless, even after everything. He always found joy, even in places where there was none.

“Careful, Lucerys,” your mother warned, her voice firm but gentle. “The stairs are steep, and a fall from here would be your last.”

Luke slowed for a moment, his grin faltering, but he continued climbing at a more careful pace.

You took another step, feeling the ache in your legs, your hands gripping the sides of your cloak to keep it from getting tangled in your feet. The air grew colder the higher you climbed, and the wind howled louder. For a moment, you stopped to catch your breath, your eyes gazing up at the towers of Dragonstone.

It wasn’t the warmth of home. Not like King’s Landing had been. It felt… distant. Quiet. Lonely.

A soft hand touched your back. You turned to see your mother beside you, her eyes filled with quiet understanding.

“Just a little more, sweet girl,” she said softly, her voice gentle as she brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. “Then we will rest. I promise.”

Her warmth gave you strength. You nodded, determination hardening your gaze, and you pushed forward, climbing the remaining stairs step by step. One step. Then another. Then another.

By the time you reached the top, your chest was heaving, and your legs felt as if they were made of stone. You stopped, placing your hands on your knees, gasping for breath.

But you had made it.

The great doors of Dragonstone stood before you — tall, dark, and unyielding. Two guards in black cloaks stood at attention, their spears firmly planted at their sides. As your mother approached, they moved aside, their eyes cast downward in respect.

Your mother glanced back at you, waiting patiently as you caught your breath. Her eyes were soft, filled with pride.

“You did well,” she said, her lips curling into a small smile. “Come, let me show you your new home.”

With slow, deliberate steps, you followed her inside. The stone halls were dimly lit, the air cooler than you expected. The flickering light of torches danced along the walls, casting long shadows that twisted into the shapes of dragons. The air smelled of fire, ash, and sea salt.

As you walked, your fingers trailed along the cold, rough stone of the walls. It wasn’t smooth like the polished marble of the Red Keep. It was raw, unrefined — but there was something powerful about it. It felt alive, ancient, as though the very stones remembered every king and queen who had lived here before you.

Your footsteps echoed through the grand halls. Luke and Jace’s laughter faded into the distance as they ran ahead, their excitement filling the space like birdsong in a forest.

“Not too far,” your mother called after them. Her voice carried authority, and the echoes of it bounced off the high stone ceilings.

You gazed up at the vaulted arches overhead, wondering how many dragons had flown above them. How many dragons had been called here. You thought of Aegon and Aemond back in King’s Landing, their faces flashing in your mind like ghosts. Would they think of you too? Would they miss you as much as you already missed them?

You shook the thoughts away. This was your new home now. Dragonstone would be your fortress, your shelter, your sanctuary.

Your mother’s hand found yours again, fingers wrapping gently around yours as she guided you down the hall. Her warmth chased away the cold stone air.

“Come,” she said. “You will have a room of your own with a view of the sea. You’ll hear the dragons at night, calling to each other.”

Her voice was soft but certain, like a lullaby.

You stepped into your new chamber, the faint creak of the heavy wooden door echoing behind you. The first thing that caught your attention was the wide, arched window on the far wall. Golden sunlight streamed through it, illuminating the cold, gray stone of the room with a soft, warm glow. You approached it slowly, drawn to the view beyond.

Stretching out before you was an endless expanse of blue — the sea, vast and unyielding, glittering like a field of sapphires beneath the midday sun. The waves rolled in a steady rhythm, their distant crashes against the shore like a song that only the sea could sing. The salty breeze brushed softly against your face, carrying with it the faint call of gulls and the distant, guttural roars of dragons from beyond the cliffs.

Your gaze lingered there for a moment longer. It was beautiful, but it was not the view you were used to. The sprawl of King’s Landing, with its bustling streets and crowded markets, had always been full of life, movement, and noise. Dragonstone was different. Quieter. Wilder. Lonely.

Behind you, you heard the soft rustling of fabric as one of your maids entered, carrying a small trunk of your belongings. She set it down near the large wooden bed before bowing her head. “Shall I help you unpack, my lady?” she asked softly, her voice respectful but distant.

You glanced back at her and gave a small nod. “Yes, please.”

For the next hour, you worked together, pulling out dresses, cloaks, and trinkets from your old life. The maid carefully folded each gown and placed them in the carved oak wardrobe by the wall. You arranged your personal items on the wooden shelf near the bed — a small figurine that Jace had given you on your nameday, a silver hair comb from your mother, and a bundle of pressed flowers from King’s Landing, gifted by Aegon before your departure. You ran your fingers over the dried petals, their colors faded but still soft to the touch.

“Do you miss them, my lady?” the maid asked as she smoothed the wrinkles from a cloak. Her voice was quiet but curious.

You blinked, glancing over at her. You didn’t need to ask who she meant. “Yes,” you admitted softly, fingers still resting on the dried flowers. “I miss them very much.”

Her eyes flickered with understanding. “You’ll get used to it,” she said gently, folding the cloak and placing it neatly on the shelf. “Dragonstone has a way of growing on you. The quiet isn’t so bad once you learn to listen to it.”

You glanced back toward the window. The sound of waves crashing below was constant, like a heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Eternal.

The days at Dragonstone passed slowly. Each morning, you woke to the sound of distant dragon calls echoing across the cliffs. The chill of the stone floor nipped at your feet as you rose from your bed. It had been almost a week since your arrival, but the silence still felt strange. Back in King’s Landing, every day had been filled with noise — the clamor of horses, the calls of merchants, and the ever-present hum of people gossiping in the halls.

Here, there was only the sea, the wind, and the dragons.

You spent much of your time walking through the castle gardens, such as they were. The “gardens” of Dragonstone were not like the lush, colorful gardens of King’s Landing. There were no roses or delicate lilies, no chirping birds or marble fountains. Instead, there were hardy plants and wildflowers that grew in the cracks of stone and the shallow soil near the cliffs. Lavender, thistles, and wild grasses swayed in the wind, strong and resilient, just like the people who lived here.

You often found yourself drawn to one particular path that led to the edge of the cliffs. From there, you could see the sea stretching endlessly in every direction. The spray of saltwater brushed against your skin when the waves crashed against the rocks below. Sometimes, you would spot the dragons flying overhead — shadows moving across the clouds with the beating of mighty wings.

“It feels as though the world is holding its breath,” you thought to yourself as you gazed out at the sea one afternoon. The wind tugged at your hair, carrying with it the distant roar of a dragon. It wasn’t like King’s Landing, where there was always something happening. Here, everything was slower. Quieter. Too quiet.

At times, you wondered if your uncles missed you. Aegon and Aemond had been the hardest to leave behind. Aegon, with his carefree charm and playful smirks, had always found ways to make you laugh, bringing you little gifts or flowers as if you were a princess in one of his songs. Aemond, quieter but no less thoughtful, had a way of watching over you without saying a word. His gifts were more deliberate — a book, a polished stone, a carved figure of a dragon. He never said much, but he was always there.

You wondered if they felt your absence as much as you felt theirs.

One afternoon, as you sat near the cliffs, pulling wildflowers from the cracks in the stone, Jace and Luke ran up to you, breathless from play. Their cheeks were flushed, and their hair stuck out in wild tufts from the sea breeze.

“Come see!” Luke shouted, grabbing your hand and tugging at you. “There’s a cave! Jace found it, and it looks like dragon eggs might be inside!”

You arched an eyebrow, doubt flickering across your face. “Dragon eggs?”

Jace crossed his arms, his face filled with pride. “It could be! Maester says dragons sometimes leave them hidden in caves. Come on, you have to see it!”

They pulled you along, their excitement too strong to resist. Their laughter echoed down the stone corridors as they guided you toward the cliffs. For the first time in days, you felt something stir in your heart — a flicker of joy, of adventure, of belonging.

When you reached the cave, it was little more than a hollow carved into the side of the cliff, narrow and dark. Luke was already crawling inside, calling back to you, “Come on, it’s not that small!”

You crouched down, looking into the cave’s narrow entrance. It was damp, the air thick with the smell of wet stone and seaweed. Jace crouched beside you, his eyes bright with mischief.

“Are you afraid?” he asked, his grin teasing.

“Of course not,” you said, raising your chin. “But if a dragon is hiding in there, I hope it eats you first.”

Jace laughed, and the sound was so familiar — so normal. You followed them inside, your heart thudding in your chest. For the first time since arriving at Dragonstone, it didn’t feel so lonely.

That night, as you sat around the dining table with your family, the dim glow of the hearthfire flickered softly against the stone walls of Dragonstone’s dining hall. The quiet hum of dinner conversation was broken by the sound of heavy footsteps approaching.

One of the guards entered, his armor clinking softly with every step. He bowed his head respectfully before approaching your mother, Rhaenyra, and placed a sealed letter in her hand. The wax seal bore the mark of House Velaryon — the sigil of the seahorse pressed into deep blue wax.

“From Driftmark, my princess,” the guard announced before stepping back into position by the door.

Rhaenyra’s eyes lingered on the seal for a moment longer than usual, her thumb brushing over it slowly. Something about it made her pause. Her brows furrowed slightly as she broke the seal and unfolded the letter, her eyes scanning the words with growing intensity.

The room grew quiet.

You glanced at your mother, watching her face shift from calm focus to something more troubled — her lips pressed into a thin line, her eyes hardening. Her fingers tensed on the parchment.

“What is it?” Laenor asked from across the table, his gaze narrowing in concern. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the table, his eyes locked on her.

Your mother didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze flickered to you, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. Her eyes softened, but there was something in them you didn’t quite understand — something distant. She glanced at Laenor and then back at the letter in her hand, as if weighing her words.

Finally, she took a steady breath and folded the letter in her lap. Her gaze remained downcast for a moment longer before she lifted her eyes to meet Laenor’s.

“Leana is dead,” she said softly, her voice steady but burdened with grief.

The silence that followed was absolute. You felt a chill crawl up your spine as the weight of her words settled into the room. Your hands, which had been resting on the table, slowly curled into fists on your lap.

“No,” Laenor muttered, his face contorting in disbelief. He blinked several times, as if trying to convince himself he had misheard her. His lips parted, his breathing growing unsteady. “No, that can’t be right.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes met his with quiet sorrow. “She died in childbirth.” Her voice was gentle, but her words cut sharper than any blade. “The babe did not survive either.”

Laenor’s face crumpled. His hands gripped the edge of the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. He hung his head, his shoulders trembling. His breath came in shallow, uneven huffs as he tried to contain himself, but his grief was too heavy. He closed his eyes, as if doing so might block out the pain.

Your heart ached as you watched him. Leana was his sister. And though you had not known her as well as he had, you knew what family meant.

Jace and Luke looked at each other, both confused and worried. Luke tugged at Jace’s sleeve, whispering, “What does it mean? What happened to Auntie Leana?”

Jace didn’t answer. His face was blank, his eyes distant, but you could see the subtle shift in his expression — the quiet understanding that someone was gone, someone important.

Your mother reached for Laenor’s hand, her fingers curling over his knuckles. She squeezed gently. “Corlys and Rhaenys have called for us to attend the funeral tomorrow at Driftmark.”

Driftmark.

The name of the Velaryon seat rang in your mind like a distant bell. It was a place you’d only visited a few times, but you remembered its rocky shores and stormy skies. It wasn’t a place of warmth. It was a place of power, of salt and stone.

Laenor said nothing for a long time. His head remained bowed, his breath shallow but steady. His other hand ran down his face, wiping at his eyes. You’d never seen him like this before — broken.

“I’ll be ready,” he muttered at last, his voice strained. He didn’t look up.

Your mother gave his hand another squeeze before letting go. Her eyes flickered back to you and your brothers. Her gaze was soft but firm. “You will all accompany us.”

You nodded, your throat tight. You felt something heavy in your chest — an ache you didn’t fully understand. It wasn’t your grief, not really. But it was the grief of your family, and you felt its weight all the same.

Luke sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Jace’s jaw was tight, his hands folded in front of him. You glanced at Joffrey in his cradle, still too young to understand the weight of the world he had been born into.

That night, the warmth of the hearth didn’t feel as strong. The food tasted duller. The quietness of the hall felt heavier.

You went to bed early, curling into your blankets, but sleep did not come easily. Images of the sea filled your mind — crashing waves and distant cliffs, the stormy shores of Driftmark. You wondered if Leana had been afraid, if she had known her end was near. You wondered if she had called for her daughters, or for Daemon.

Daemon.

You thought of him too. You had only met him a few times, but he was impossible to forget. Daemon Targaryen was fire wrapped in flesh — dangerous, unpredictable, and wild. He had a look in his eyes like he belonged to no one but himself.

Would he be at Driftmark tomorrow?

The thought of it stirred something uneasy in your heart.

Tomorrow, you would stand on those cold, stormy shores. You would watch the sea claim another soul. And you knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same after that.

Driftmark greeted you with an atmosphere as heavy as the waves crashing against its jagged shores. The sea, usually an endless expanse of strength and power, seemed furious today — its waves clawing at the rocks as if mourning alongside the living. The sky was a dull gray, mirroring the somber mood that hung over the island.

You sat in the carriage beside your mother and father, the rhythmic clatter of the horses’ hooves blending with the distant roar of the sea. The inside of the carriage was silent, save for the faint creak of its wooden frame as it swayed gently with every turn.

Your eyes drifted to your father, who sat across from you, his head leaning back against the cushioned seat. His face was pale, his usually vibrant expression replaced by one of emptiness.

Laenor Velaryon — a man known for his charm and laughter — looked hollow. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his cheeks bore the faint traces of dried tears. You had never seen him like this before. It was unsettling to see someone so full of life now sitting so still, so consumed by grief.

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to comfort him, to reach out and take his hand, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you settled for watching him, hoping your silent presence would be enough.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, sat beside him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. She didn’t speak either, but her eyes were filled with quiet concern as they flickered between him and the window. You could tell she wanted to ease his pain, but she, too, seemed unsure of how to reach him.

The carriage jolted slightly as it hit a bump in the road, pulling Laenor from his thoughts. His gaze shifted to the window, where the jagged cliffs of Driftmark loomed closer. The great castle of High Tide was visible in the distance, its dark silhouette standing firm against the restless sea.

“She loved this place,” Laenor muttered suddenly, his voice hoarse.

Your mother turned to him, her brows furrowing. “What?”

“Laena,” he said, his voice cracking as he spoke her name. “She loved Driftmark. Even when we were children. She would always run to the cliffs, no matter how many times she was told it was dangerous.” He let out a soft, bitter laugh. “She wasn’t afraid of anything.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened, and she reached for his hand, squeezing it gently. “She was brave,” she agreed quietly. “A true Velaryon.”

Laenor nodded, but his eyes remained fixed on the window. You could see the grief etched into every line of his face, the weight of loss bearing down on him like a storm.

You glanced back out the window, watching as the sea grew closer. The salty air stung your nostrils, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the rocks filled your ears. It felt as if the island itself was mourning.

As the carriage slowed to a halt in the courtyard of High Tide, you took a deep breath and looked at your father one last time before stepping out. His shoulders were slumped, his eyes distant, but he managed to rise and follow your mother without a word.

The courtyard was bustling with activity, mourners dressed in black moving solemnly toward the castle. You spotted Corlys Velaryon, your grandfather, standing at the entrance, his face grim and unreadable. Beside him was Rhaenys, your grandmother, her expression a mask of calm composure, though her red-rimmed eyes betrayed her sorrow.

The world felt heavier here, as if Driftmark itself was bowing under the weight of grief. You felt small amidst it all — a child in a world of sorrow and loss.

Your mother reached for your hand, guiding you toward the entrance. The sound of the sea grew louder in your ears, and you couldn’t help but glance over your shoulder at the cliffs in the distance. Somewhere out there, the waves would soon claim your aunt’s body, taking her back to the sea she had loved so much.

Before the ceremony began, you found yourself wandering through the courtyard of High Tide, the somber atmosphere weighing heavily on your small frame. The salty breeze carried whispers of grief, mingling with the faint murmur of guests gathering for the funeral.

Your eyes scanned the crowd until they landed on two familiar figures—your uncles, Aegon and Aemond. They stood near one of the stone archways, their silver hair catching the dim light. But something felt off.

Neither of them looked at you, nor did they greet you. Aegon stared off into the distance, his expression unreadable, while Aemond’s face was stoic, his arms crossed over his chest. They didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge your presence—as if you were invisible to them.

Your heart sank a little, confusion and hurt bubbling inside you. Had you done something wrong?

Before you could muster the courage to approach them, a soft voice called your name. Turning, you saw Alicent, your grandmother, walking toward you. She looked elegant even in her mourning attire, her emerald-green dress a stark contrast to the black-clad mourners around her.

When she reached you, she bent slightly to meet your gaze, her face softening into a warm smile. “My sweet girl,” she said, her tone gentle. “I’ve missed you so much.”

You managed a small smile in return, her familiar presence soothing some of your unease. “I’ve missed you too, your grace,” you replied.

Alicent reached out and brushed a strand of hair from your face. “You’ve grown even more beautiful,” she said, her voice tinged with pride. Then, with a glance toward your uncles, her expression turned more serious.

“They’ll come around,” she said softly, as if sensing your thoughts. “Aegon and Aemond… they’re still upset about you leaving for Dragonstone. They don’t understand why you had to go.”

Her words made your chest tighten. “I didn’t want to leave,” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

“I know,” Alicent said, cupping your cheek. “But you did what was right—what your mother needed. They’ll see that in time.”

You nodded, though the ache in your heart didn’t fade completely. Alicent gave you a reassuring smile before pulling you into a gentle hug. Her warmth was a small comfort amidst the cold grief that surrounded you.

When she released you, she smoothed down her dress and said, “Come now, let us go inside. The ceremony will begin soon.”

As she guided you toward the hall, you stole one last glance at Aegon and Aemond. Aegon was still distant, his gaze unfocused, while Aemond’s jaw was tight, his expression unreadable. They didn’t look your way as you passed, but you held onto Alicent’s words, hoping that one day, things would be as they once were.

The funeral ceremony had concluded, leaving the air heavy with sorrow and the salty tang of the sea. You found yourself seated on a stone bench near the gardens of High Tide, the faint crash of waves providing a somber backdrop.

Beside you sat Baela and Rhaena, their faces still streaked with tears as they clung to one another. You placed a comforting hand on Baela’s, your voice gentle as you spoke.

“Everything will be alright,” you said, though a part of you wasn’t entirely sure. The weight of grief hung thick in the air, and you could feel the tension between the gathered family members. Still, you wanted to provide some comfort for the two girls who had just lost their mother.

Baela gave you a small, grateful smile, though her eyes betrayed her heartbreak. Rhaena leaned against her twin, her silence speaking volumes.

As you turned your gaze away from them to let them grieve in peace, a strange sensation washed over you—a feeling of being watched.

You shifted uneasily, your hands fidgeting in your lap, and slowly turned your head to search for the source of the sensation. Your eyes scanned the gathered mourners, the stone walls, and the shadows of the hall… until they landed on Daemon Targaryen.

He stood apart from the others, his arms crossed over his chest, his silver hair catching the dim light of the torches. His piercing gaze was fixed on you, his expression unreadable.

There was nothing harsh or threatening in his eyes, but the intensity of his stare made your heartbeat quicken. He wasn’t looking at anyone else—just you.

You quickly looked away, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny. Why was he watching you? What did he see?

Baela noticed your shift in demeanor and placed a hand on your arm. “What’s wrong?” she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly, forcing a small smile. “Just tired.”

Baela nodded, accepting your answer, but as the night wore on, you couldn’t shake the feeling of Daemon’s eyes following you. Even as the mourners began to disperse and the hall grew quieter, his presence lingered in your thoughts.

You returned to the chamber your grandfather had arranged for you, the weight of the day still heavy on your shoulders. When you opened the door, a wave of relief washed over you as you spotted Helaena sitting on the edge of the bed. She looked up at you with her usual soft, dreamlike smile, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Helaena!” you exclaimed, running over to her. Without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace.

“I missed you,” she said quietly, resting her chin on your shoulder.

“I missed you too,” you replied, pulling back slightly to look at her. “It feels like it’s been so long.”

Helaena nodded, her violet eyes shimmering with a mixture of joy and melancholy. “The Red Keep feels different without you. It’s quieter.”

You both sat down on the bed, the day’s exhaustion momentarily forgotten as you caught up with her. Helaena talked about her days in the Keep, how she spent her time wandering the gardens, chasing butterflies, and reading in her favorite hidden corners. You told her about the journey to Dragonstone and how much you missed having her by your side.

The hours seemed to melt away as the two of you laughed and shared secrets, just as you always did. There was a sense of comfort in being with Helaena—a feeling that, no matter what happened in the world outside, you would always have each other.

When the moon hung high in the sky and the candles burned low, Helaena glanced at you hesitantly. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?” she asked softly. “I don’t really want to be alone.”

You smiled warmly and nodded. “I’d like that. I don’t want to be alone either.”

Helaena’s face lit up at your response, and she quickly moved to lie down beside you. You both snuggled under the thick blankets, the chill of Driftmark’s sea air forgotten in the warmth of your shared companionship.

As you lay there, you felt her hand brush against yours, and you turned to see her staring up at the ceiling. “Do you think things will ever go back to how they were before?” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

You hesitated, unsure of how to answer. “Maybe not,” you admitted softly. “But as long as we have each other, it’ll be alright.”

Helaena turned her head to look at you, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re right,” she said, her voice filled with quiet determination.

With that, the two of you closed your eyes, the bond between you stronger than ever. The world outside might have been chaotic and uncertain, but here, in this small room, you found peace.

The sharp knock on your door stirred you from your sleep. The darkness outside the window told you it was still deep in the night. Confused and slightly disoriented, you got up and opened the door to find Ser Criston Cole standing there, his expression grim and urgent.

“Princesses you must come to the grand hall at once,” he said, his voice low but commanding.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, a knot forming in your stomach.

“Prince Aemond has been injured. Gravely,” he replied, refusing to elaborate further.

Your breath hitched as you quickly woke Helaena, explaining as best as you could before the two of you hurried down the dimly lit corridors of Driftmark. The tension in the air seemed to grow heavier with every step, and your heart pounded with dread.

When you entered the grand hall, the sight before you made you stop in your tracks. The room was a whirlwind of chaos and emotions. Your mother, Rhaenyra, stood protectively in front of Luke, who looked shaken but defiant. Blood smeared his face, his small hands trembling at his sides. Across the room, Alicent knelt beside Aemond, whose face was partially obscured by a bloodied cloth. Even from the distance, you could see the raw wound where his left eye had been.

Your heart sank. The sight of Aemond—proud, cold Aemond—reduced to this state sent a pang of guilt and sadness through you. But then Alicent’s voice broke through, sharp and accusatory.

“Your son,” she hissed, pointing at Luke, “has maimed mine. He has taken his eye!”

Your mother’s voice was equally sharp as she retorted, “Your son provoked him! He called my sons bastards! He stole Vhagar from Baela and Rhaena without a thought!”

The words hit you like a blow, and your gaze instinctively turned to Aemond. His remaining eye burned with fury, but beneath it, you could see something else—pain and anger, yes, but also a sense of defiance.

“Is it a lie?” Aemond’s voice, though pained, was clear and strong. “They are bastards.”

The words made your chest tighten painfully, and you looked toward Aegon, who stood beside his brother. His face was stony, but he didn’t deny the accusation.

The air grew thick with tension as you stood there, caught between your loyalty to your family and the ache in your heart for your uncles. Your hands trembled slightly as you tried to keep your emotions in check.

“Why would you say that?” you finally managed, your voice quiet but filled with hurt as you looked at Aemond and then at Aegon. “Why would you say something so cruel?”

Neither of them answered, but Aemond’s eye met yours, and for a brief moment, you saw something flicker there—regret, perhaps? Or maybe it was just the pain from his injury.

“Enough!” came the voice of King Viserys, who had entered the hall, his face pale and his expression furious. “This family has bled enough tonight! I will have no more accusations, no more fighting!”

But even as the King demanded peace, the damage was done. The rift between the two sides of your family deepened that night, and though you tried to hide it, the pain lingered in your chest. The words they had spoken echoed in your mind long after the hall had fallen silent.

The salty sea breeze brushed against your face as you stood on the edge of the Driftmark dock, watching the sails of the departing ships grow smaller in the distance. Above them, the silhouettes of three dragons glided across the skies, the mighty beasts casting long shadows on the waves below. Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena were leaving, and with them, any fragile semblance of unity that once existed in your family.

You stood beside your mother, her face stoic but her eyes betraying the turmoil within. Blood had been spilled, bonds had been broken, and the rift between your family and the Greens seemed irreparable now.

For a moment, you turned your gaze to Daemon, who stood not far from you and your mother. He leaned casually against a pillar, his expression unreadable, but his presence was a reminder of the man who had always been on the edges of your life, observing but rarely intervening.

Looking back at the horizon, you let out a quiet sigh. “May I go check on Luke?” you asked, turning to your mother.

Rhaenyra tore her gaze away from the sea to look at you. Her lips curved into a small, strained smile as she nodded. “Of course, my sweet girl. Make sure he knows he’s safe.”

You curtsied lightly before stepping away, your steps echoing softly against the stone dock as you made your way back toward the castle. Your heart ached for Luke, who must be feeling the weight of everything that had transpired. Aemond’s eye was gone, and Luke’s actions—though unintentional—had caused it.

As you entered the castle, the cool, dim corridors wrapped around you like a protective shield. You found Luke sitting in a small alcove near one of the windows, his knees pulled to his chest and his arms wrapped around them. His face was buried, but his quiet sniffles reached your ears.

“Luke,” you called softly, your voice gentle as you approached him.

He lifted his head slightly, his tear-streaked face turning toward you. “It’s all my fault,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to hurt him.”

You knelt beside him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I know you didn’t,” you said, your voice soothing. “But it wasn’t just your fault. Aemond made his choices too. What happened was a tragedy, but it doesn’t make you a bad person, Luke.”

He looked at you, his wide, innocent eyes searching for reassurance. “Do you think he’ll hate me forever?”

You hesitated, knowing the truth was more complicated than a simple yes or no. “I don’t know what Aemond will feel in the future,” you admitted honestly. “But what matters now is that we’re a family, and we stand by each other. You’re not alone, Luke. None of us are.”

He leaned into you, seeking comfort, and you wrapped your arms around him, holding him close. In the aftermath of chaos, all you could do was offer him your strength and hope that, in time, the wounds within your family might begin to heal.

Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @hangmanscoming @giirlinblack @yazzzmints

[nebulaafterdark]

The Rats Pt. 2

Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

Summary: Aegon attempts to make peace with Rhaenyra after being forced to usurp her throne. Lucerys’ death complicates things.

18+ ONLY, MDNI

Part 1

“Princess Y/N of house Velaryon.” The guard announces.

Rhaenyra’s heart skips a beat, surely he is mistaken.

“Mother,” Y/N says, racing toward her. “Your grace,” she corrects herself.

Rhaenyra wraps her eldest child in her arms. “Mother will do just fine.”

Y/N buries her face in Rhaenyra’s shoulder.

“How did you get here?” Aegon would never let her go of his own free will.

“Daemon,” Y/N breathes. Knowing that her stepfather will owe her for the half truth.

“Where are the children?”

“In King’s Landing.” Y/N tells her, “to keep Aegon’s wits about him in my absence. He wants to come to an agreement, he’s more than willing to bend the knee. I only ask that he and Helaena be spared…as for Aemond Targaryen, he is a murderer.” Y/N’s voice breaks, “we will avenge the murder of my brother.”

Rhaenyra’s strokes a hand over her hair, feeling the dark waves that remind her of Lucerys. “Aegon and Helaena will receive full pardons based on your testimony. Rest assured I appreciate what you have done on my behalf.”

“Thank you.” Y/N pulls back marginally, realizing her mother’s pregnant belly should be between them. “Where is the babe?”

Rhaenyra shakes her head.

Y/N covers her mouth with her hand, “I am terribly sorry.”

“It is no fault of yours, darling girl.”

“I should have been here with you.”

“When I offered your hand in marriage, I had no idea Aegon was capable of love. It has complicated all of this.”

Y/N nods, “speaking of my husband. I should send word that I am well, lest he take out his frustration on Dragonstone.”

Rhaenyra taps her chin, affectionately. “I will fetch a scroll.”

————————————————————————-

Aegon’s youngest son is the only one of his children to share Y/N’s dark locks. His wife insisted they name him Aegon. After my dearest love. She said.

Aegon agreed of course as he can deny her nothing. The child wails nonstop, in the absence of his mother. At all of four months old, Aegon is the only one who can quiet him besides Y/N. As such, the King is now attending the small council meeting with a babe in his arms.

Their daughter, Dahlia, the eldest of the twins will sit the iron throne one day, through his line of succession and Rhaenyra’s. At all of six, she is sitting at the table. His other children Visera and Laenor have not been properly protected under the guard, they too must stay in his sightline.

“Gods be good.” Alicent frowns at her son.

“What is it?” Aegon huffs, arching a brow at her.

“The small council is no place for children, your grace.” Alicent explains. “They would be better tended by their maids.”

Aegon nods, “right. As you all know, two nights ago, the Princess Helaena was attacked in the children’s chambers. Our heirs were threatened and Queen Y/N was taken from us. During which time, not a single guard could be found on the entirety of the royal floor! Because you were-”

Aegon looks to his children in turn, “cover your ears my darlings.” He smiles, waiting until they have done as they’re told, holding his own hand over his infant’s ear. “Where were we, mother? Oh, that’s right, no one was guarding my children because you were fucking the royal guard.”

The council members lower their heads in acknowledgement.

“The men who carried out this attack, entered under the guise of rat catching. I want them found and swiftly executed.” Aegon demands, patting his sleeping son’s leg.

“We have been interrogating rat catchers for days, thus far we have no leads.” Otto explains.

A slow smile spreads over the King’s face. “Then hang them all.”

Alicent blanches.

“Anything else?” Aegon asks, watching Visera begin toying with Otto’s chair.

“A letter arrived from Dragonstone, your grace.” Lord Tyland informs him.

“Oh?” Aegon says, “from Rhaenyra?”

“From Queen Y/N.”

Aegon swallows, “did you read it?”

“No, my King.”

“Good,” Aegon reaches for the rolled parchment.

‘My dearest Aegon,

Please know that I am well. We would like to begin negotiations to end the blockade and create a peaceful transfer of power. This will require your cooperation, I hope you will meet me at Dragonstone to discuss this matter farther.

Forever yours,

Y/N’

Aegon exhales, sharply.

“What is it, your grace?”

“The children and I are off to Dragonstone.”

“Whatever for?”

“To negotiate the terms of Y/N’s return.”

“My King…”

“And if you cannot agree on said terms?” Alicent asks.

Aegon frowns, lifting a shoulder. “To war then.”

“He is unhinged,” Otto whispers to his daughter.

“As I warned he would be.” Alicent rises from her seat. “He is quite…devoted to her.”

————————————————————————

“It has been three days since you sent word to King’s Landing. We must assume Aegon’s silence is his response.” Daemon seethes, around the drawing table.

“Give it time.” Y/N insists, “you owe me that.”

Daemon smirks, “I owe you nothing, spoiled thing.”

“Mmm,” Y/N hums. “My mother does not yet know how I came to be here.”

“And you are not going to tell her. Otherwise, my distaste for your usurping cunt of a husband will be demonstrated at length.”

Sunfyre roars, calling their attention to the nearest window.

Daemon huffs, “I’ll be damned.”

“And he’s brought the children.” Y/N rejoices, running out to join her family.

Jacaerys is already helping to unload her children from the makeshift carriage on the dragon’s saddle.

“Mother!” Dahlia and Visera charge Y/N nearly knocking her backwards.

Laenor runs after them with his little legs as Aegon the fourth, stares at her, babbling in his father’s arms.

Y/N is moved to tears, “you came.”

“You didn’t think I would?” Aegon cocks his head to the side.

“It’s a rather large ask,” Y/N explains.

“For you, the world.” He replies, with a kiss to her temple. “Now, where is Rhaenyra? We have much to discuss.”

“Her grace will join us soon.”

Aegon nods, “I request a small audience, before the council.”

“That can be arranged.”

“After which your brother might tend the children whilst you show me your quarters.” Aegon whispers.

Y/N smirks, “of course.”

Part 3

Taglist: @minttea07 @callsignwidow @fallout-girl219 @syraxnyra @vickynephilim @jeondeluxe111 @geeksareunique @arya-brooke @7minutes-tomidnight

[ekkkkey]

My commission by @trupniy

Aegon x twin OC, Aemond x niece OC

[br0kenangel]

BABY SISTER: 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘣𝘢𝘣𝘺 𝘈𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘦𝘸𝘣𝘰𝘳𝘯 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦.

The Red Keep hummed with quiet excitement, a rare gentleness settling over the halls as the news spread. The queen had given birth to another child, a girl, and the brothers were brought to see their sister for the first time.

Aegon, stomped ahead, his silver-blond hair a wild mess that matched the glint of mischief in his violet eyes. “I don’t see why everyone’s so fussed,” he grumbled, casting a look over his shoulder at Aemond, who followed more cautiously. “She’s just a babe. Probably all wrinkly and loud.”

Aemond didn’t reply. He wasn’t quite sure what to expect. His small hand clutched the edge of his older brother’s sleeve, his wide eyes taking in every detail as they approached the cradle where their sister lay sleeping. Aegon made a face as they neared. “See? She’s not doing anything interesting.”

Despite his words, Aegon leaned over the cradle’s edge, his annoyance more curious than he let on. Aemond stood on his toes beside him, peering over, almost shyly. Inside the cradle was the tiniest babe they’d ever seen, her silver hair softer than the finest silk, curling slightly on her tiny head. Her cheeks were pink and round, and she slept peacefully, her breaths soft and steady.

Aegon wrinkled his nose. “She’s so small.” He reached out and gave her a gentle poke on the cheek. “Hey, wake up.”

Aemond gasped softly, his eyes wide. “Don’t!” he whispered, though he was just as curious. He glanced back down at her, nervous that Aegon might have hurt her.

The babe stirred, her little nose scrunching up. Aegon watched in surprise as her eyelids fluttered open slowly, revealing the same violet eyes that both brothers shared. She blinked up at them, her gaze drifting between Aegon’s smirk and Aemond’s wide-eyed stare. Then, as if recognizing them in some deep, instinctual way, the corners of her tiny mouth curled into a soft, gentle smile.

Both boys froze, their hearts seeming to stop at the same moment. Aegon, who had been ready to declare his sister boring and unimportant, suddenly found himself captivated by that smile. His earlier irritation melted away, replaced with something warm and protective he didn’t quite understand. “She’s… she’s smiling at us,” he whispered, almost in awe.

Aemond, who had been hesitant, felt his heart swell. He reached out a tiny hand, his fingers barely brushing her soft, pudgy one. “She’s beautiful,” he breathed, his voice filled with wonder.

The babe made a small, contented sound, her tiny hand curling instinctively around Aemond’s finger. Her eyes, so large and innocent, stayed fixed on her brothers, as if already knowing how important they would be in her life. Aegon reached out too, letting her grab his finger with surprising strength. The moment was simple, yet so lovely. The two boys stared down at their sister, completely captivated, forgetting any doubts or teasing words.

Aegon, who had been ready to dismiss her, now felt a fierce surge of love and protectiveness. “I guess… I guess she’s not so bad,” he admitted, but there was no mistaking the affection in his voice.

Aemond just nodded, still entranced, his heart swelling with a love he had never felt before. “We’ll take care of her,” he said softly, a promise in his quiet words.

Part 2 ♡ Part 3

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

[gtgbabie0]

Hi! I’ve got a request please for Aegon after he’s injured at Rook’s Rest where wife!reader won’t leave his bedside just watching him rest and helping care for him and soothing him when he’s able to wake up 🥺

-Aegon Targaryen x Wife!Reader

{The days following Rooks Rest were spent by Aegon’s side and no where else}

Thank you for the request!! Enjoy my lovelies 💕

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It was a day just like the last, the morning sun was blocked behind the thick tapestry that hangs over the huge windows. It casts a hazy light through the chambers, the smoke from the candles dances through the soft rays of sun that peak between the gaps.

The chair beside Aegon’s sick bed was your new home, you slept and ate there- well what little you could stomach. The Maesters had advised you to get proper rest, urging you out of the room whenever they had to tend to him. However, all their complaints went in one ear and out the other.

You were adamant and so they all soon gave in, the desperation in your eyes must’ve spoken to something deep in Grand Maester Orwyle.

The sound of Aegon’s shallow breaths is the only sound that breaks through the silence, along with the faint crackle of candle flames that were starting to die out. You were almost on the cusp of sleep, your head tipping to the side as you try to fight off the heavy weight of exhaustion.

Although your attempts are futile, there was a restlessness that had coiled itself around your body holding you from finding peace ever since they had brought your husband back to the Red Keep in that wooden box, the memory still stirs your stomach unpleasantly.

Shaking the thought off you lean forward slightly, reaching over to brush his hair away from his face, your knuckles grazing over his unburned cheek. His skin is warm to the touch, hot with the leftover remnants of a fever he had not long broken.

You stare at him, watching him sleep so soundly that he almost looks at peace. If it weren’t for his pained expression and the way he weakly fists at the bedsheets then perhaps you might’ve tricked yourself into believing he was fine… just resting as the Maesters put it.

You dip a cotton cloth into the basin, wringing the water out before gently dabbing it against the untouched areas of his skin, the last parts of him that weren’t scorched. His body tenses up, and then a broken sigh passes through his chapped lips, the coolness brought him some relief if only for a few fleeting moments.

He sinks back into the comfort of the pillows as you bring the cloth over his chest, avoiding the marred skin. “… you’re still here?” He whispers, disbelief twinging through his broken tone, watching you through his bleary eye. He knows it’s you, despite the daze he is in. He can tell by the way you tend to him with a certain care that the Maesters didn’t have.

His voice sends a pang of hurt through your chest, hitting your heart. “Of course… I’m not going anywhere.” You whisper, going back over to the basin to fold the cloth back in its place before walking over to him once more.

He had been in out of consciousness since this morning when you had witnessed him speak vaguely to Orwyle, his words then were slurred almost incoherent.

“You don’t have to.” He rasps, his actions betraying his words as his fingers twitch weakly in a desperate attempt to hold your hand. You meet him halfway, clasping your fingers around his palm.

“No, I want to. I’m not leaving you Aegon.” You tell him, more of a reassurance than anything. To soothe him whilst he remains in this almost delirious state. He nods feebly, a smile ghosting over his features, the feeling of your thumb caressing the inside of his wrist brings him peace of mind.

Your gaze casts along his body slowly, the dragon fire had caused a web of marred flesh over his chest and arm, across his face. An unsettling sight of pinks and reds, darker in some places and lighter in others as they blended into a violent purple in some areas, it was all extremely sensitive that even the bedsheets seemed to cause him a great deal of agony.

He watches the way your eyes study him, taking in the horrid sight that has become of him. He hates it more than anything, the look of grief in your eyes for a life that he was no longer able to live, long lost within the very same flames that had nearly claimed him. He hates it, such a solemn emotion doesn’t suit you.

Aegon looks up at you as if it was his first time really seeing you since he was first brought home. He seemed much more aware than he did yesterday. His purple eye brimming with tears that he has no control over, not right now in this condition.

“You look exhausted.” He states the obvious, looking at the deep bags underneath your eyes, although you are well aware of the fact. It was his shallow breaths that kept you from sleeping, far too scared that he might pass whilst you were unconscious.

You hum in acknowledgement, not trusting your voice to carry your words without breaking into a sob. His fingers squeeze your own, a wordless understanding, so softly that you barely even notice it.

You collect yourself, clearing your throat. “I’m okay, shall I get the Maesters?” Your words immediately make him shake his head, a desperate noise of protest slipping past his lips.

“No, stay. I need you.” He tells you, leaning into your palm with a shaky sigh.

His hand reaches for the soft velvet of your dress, trying to urge you closer to him, keeping you there with a small pained whimper. You wrap your fingers around his hands softly, looking down at him, trying to stop him with worry in your eyes as he tries to sit up.

“Stop it Aegon, you’re going to hurt yourself. I’m not leaving just lay back.” You promise, urging him to rest back down against the pillows. He mumbles something that sounds more like a jumble of pained blusters, letting you guide him back to the comfort of the pillows.

“Sit down with me,” he whispers in a strained tone, noting the hesitation in your eyes as you look across his burned skin.

You do ask he asks, perching yourself down on the edge of his bed. Your eyes search his expression for any signs of discomfort, but you are met with only a weak smile as his hand rests against your lap.

He looks over to the chair beside his bed, the blankets and pillows that were placed over the cushions, the small tray of food on the table nearby that had been untouched… you really hadn’t left his side? The thought chokes him up.

“You’ve been sleeping in that old chair this entire time? Don’t be silly…” He says, working his fingers between your own, his thumb stroking across your wedding ring. “You should be in bed… sleeping.”

“What use am I to you if I’m in bed?” You ask him, looking down at his hand as he caresses the small gemstones on your ring.

It had become some sort of habit of his, over time as he let you into his heart little by little. It brought him comfort to know that you chose to stay with him, for all his faults you still found yourself caring for reasons that Aegon can’t seem to comprehend even now.

Aegon furrowed his eyebrows slightly, a weak scoff escaping his chapped lips. Your selflessness would forever puzzle him. “You are my wife, I won’t have you wasting away.” He spoke with a sternness, he was worried about you. How much sleep have you had- or food for that matter- if any at all.

You sigh, opening your mouth to argue with him but he quickly cuts you off. “You’d be no use to me at all by torturing yourself like this, you silly girl…” The words carry some truth, but you were stubborn.

“You worrying about me whilst you lay here…like this… that is silly Aegon.” You tell him, looking down at your lap to your joined hands as his thumb continues to idly rub over the wedding band.

He grunts, looking up at you with a small frown but he can’t be mad. He missed you far too much to spend these moments arguing. “You are frustratingly stubborn… I missed you.” He whispers, bringing your hand to his lips to press a kiss to your ring.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, letting him guide your hand to rest against his cheek. He leans into the warmth of your palm as your thumb caresses him once again.

“I’ve missed you… so much.” You breathe, words coming out hushed as you try to keep the tears from falling down your exhausted eyes.

He watches you with slight confusion as you suddenly scramble over to the tables beside your chair, grabbing something before joining him at his side once more. Before he can ask what you were doing you take his uninjured hand, gently pushing his own wedding ring onto his finger.

His heart stops for a moment, leaping into his stomach at the feeling. The affection, the gentleness, makes his throat close up and he can’t do much, rendered speechless as he stares up at you with disbelief.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up… that you were-” dead… you can’t speak the word, you didn’t dear to, just in case in some sick turn of events it might come to fruition.

The tears fall freely, looking down at your wedding rings. A symbol that meant much more than just duty, you were entwined by the soul and heart, tethered to each other.

He reaches up to brush your tears away, his expression softening. “I’m here… I’m not going anywhere.” He rasps, hating the fact he can do more to soothe you. He’s never felt so useless before then he does right now.

“As am I… I’m not going anywhere.” your teary response makes him chuckle weakly.

“Come here…” he grunts, trying to play off the pain that was still searing through his body in hot flashes.

“No- I don’t want to hurt you.” You whisper, suddenly panicked as he tries to tug you down to him by his good arm.

He beckons you closer, his fingers curling around the back of your head. “You won’t… just please.” He begs meekly.

You steady yourself, pressing the palms of your hands against the mattress- being super vigilant of the burns that tarnish his body- as he lowers you down to kiss him. Your lips meeting his own gently before you pull away.

“No more. Rest before you overexert yourself.” You tell him sternly, getting up from the bed as he grumbles in a mixture of objection and pain, watching you walk back over to the wash basin. His complaints soon die down at the feeling of the cool damp rag pressing against his chest.

“Thank you.” He whispers, moulding back into the pillows. The chill it brings against his flushed skin was very welcomed.

“Shh, just relax.” You coo softly and it isn’t long before he’s drifting back off to sleep. His hand entwined with your own, your rings glistening underneath the soft candlelight, not willing to let go even in his unconscious state.

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[just-some-random-blogger]

Tear In My Heart

Aemond never cared for tourneys, for hunts, nor for any sort of pageantry; he supposed marriage fell in that category. To be frank, he never cared for you either, but then he heard whispers about you and his brother, and then thought, maybe he somehow did.

Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader x Aegon Targaryen | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, reader has baratheon feature (dark hair), wife!reader, arranged marriage, jealousy, possessiveness, infidelity, men being men, angst, violence/hunting for sport/death, typos, etc.

A/N: mind the tags! This is part of my graduation celebration 🩷🩷🩷🩷 slayed college. Let's pretend I posted this on schedule lmao. The hotd trailers really brought me to life. Part of this fic is inspired by the 2014 french beauty and the beast film.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @slavyanskiyahui @thebullship @sa3losa @lxdyred

Brother.

What was he?

The word was a stone, heavy but worthless. Nothing ever came from a brother besides bluntness, brashness, and bludgeoning burdens.

No kindness befell Aemond from his brother Aegon. Likewise, Aegon long knew to expect nothing but vexation from Aemond.

Yet even the most broken of bonds are bound back under the great unifier— Death.

Never before had the brothers worked towards a common goal so fast, so easily, and all without needing to utter a word. Together, they carry their game back to their camp, equally ignoring the burn of their arms.

Aemond loathed hunting expeditions. He loathed it then, he wholeheartedly abhorred it now. He regrets forcing himself into this godforsaken trip. He should have let you go on it alone, like always.

He regrets letting his slimy older brother getting under his skin. He regrets listening to all the rumors about Aegon and you. But in his defense—

"I MAY BE BLIND IN ONE EYE," Aemond snaps, causing you to flinch. He had never raised his voice at you like this before. He despises how shocked you look, how your bright eyes accused that he was wrong. It makes him fume, "but I see clearer than most."

Aemond is further irritated when your eyes began to water.

You, who was otherwise so well-kept and pristine, were falling apart in front of him. The wayward strands of dark hair framing your face irked him. The momentary thought of his children inheriting this trait added fuel to his anger. If, that is, whatever child you'd bear was even his to begin with.

"You are whoring yourself to my bovine brother!"

Your chest heaves heavily beneath your nightgown, "you would happily believe any slander to my name."

He scoffs when tears begin to fall from your cheeks. He paces towards the bed, unbothered if the issue is left unresolved. He'd rather sleep than watch you sob. The latter left a rather bitter taste in his mouth.

"What have I been but docile and serving?"

"Serving?" Aemond turns back, one eye narrowed, "to whom? Your greed and lust?"

"TO YOU!"

Aemond slightly pulls his head back, not expecting you to scream. He watches a spirit take over you. It was similar to that of the one that sometimes causes him to stare at you from across the room.

You suck in a breath, "do you not complain about Aegon day in and day out?" You blink rapidly and point harshly, "do you not wish him away and want him out of your hair, husband?"

"Don't you twist the truth for your-"

"I played his keeper so that you wouldn't have to," you motion, "I kept him in check so that you could do your errands, help your grandfather, go on your dragon rides, and yet you say you see clearer than most?"

"I saw you," he hisses, grabbing your shoulders.

You gasp and go rigid.

"I saw you embrace him in the cloak of night, in the corner of the gardens, where you thought no one could see."

You catch betrayal in his words, but it only causes you to chuckle dryly, "had you not lurked in the darkness, you'd have known he vomited on my shoulder and nearly passed out. Perhaps you would have felt compelled to help me drag him to his chambers."

Aemond clenches his jaw. He does not believe you.

You swat his hands away. You shake your head, "you're just a man. You're bored of what you have and want what you cannot."

"Ha. You are delusional if you think I want you."

You cannot help the sound that leaves your lips. You cannot help how you slap a hand to your mouth.

In that split second, Aemond spots the hurt on your face before you walk past him to your side of the bed.

You pull the covers down, "worry not. I've long accepted you will never want me."

"Oh," he growls, grabbing your arm before you can sit down, "and is that why you turn to my brother? Or why you leap at every chance to leave?'"

You wince as you turn to him.

"Now that I think about it, why is it you're invited to hunting expeditions so often?" Aemond demands under an angered breath, "d'you seek refuge in the-"

"I RUN INTO THE FOREST!" you hiss, shoving him away. His grip left a sting on your flesh and you rub it as you continue to burstp, "I run into the forest and let my instincts take over! I let myself shift into a beast and I run wild like a deer, begging to be shot down."

Aemond expression sours at your reaction.

"I live my curse as a Baratheon woman and morph into a doe, bullied by stags and dragons alike," you shudder, tears running down your face.

"Don't you play the victim here," he rebuts, "your family offered you to mine for power."

"Then why is it that I am so powerless, husband?"

Aemond doesn't bother watching you walk away, slamming the door shut on your way out.

Aggravation spills from his mouth through screams when silence drowns him. There is an ache in his chest that intensifies. It doesn't take long for him to question why he felt so hurt when what he was is angry, angry at you.

He then finds himself imagining you throwing yourself at Aegon, weeping on his lap. He imagines Aegon brushing your dark tresses back and drying your tears. It infuriates him more.

And as he convinced himself whilst in fumes that the reason why he hated your leave was how rudely you left, parts of his nightmares where coming true.

Aegon saw you storming down the hall in nothing but a nightgown, a cloak, and tears. He was too drunk to actually ascertain if you had no shoes on, but he was partially sure that there were truly tears running down your neck.

He was shocked by how shocked you were when he grabbed you by the arms and stopped you in your tracks. He knew you to have eyes that could spot a needle in a haystack, or real jewels from fake ones ten paces away. How could you not have noticed him when he wasn't even trying to hide how he staggered down the halls on his way back to his room?

"Spooked, kitty cat?" Aegon furrows his brows.

Your skin definitely had a damp sheen to it. Your gaze upon him somehow always hurt his thorax but it was amplified now with how puffy and red your eyes were.

"Where 'r'you storming off to?" he slurs.

You push him away, but even then you managed to offer consideration, as it was clear he was one shove away from dropping. You say, "unhand me, Aegon. I have no time for you tonight."

He pouts, blinking slowly, "and here I thought we were friends now."

You laugh. Your laugh has always had the power to make his spine tingle, but it was different this time. You shake your head, "the enemy of my enemy is not my friend."

Aegon slowly releases you. He clenches his jaw and sighs, "so it's Aemond who did this."

You scoff as you break away from him, "oh, spare me."

He watches you walk away from him. He feels hurt by your coldness. How quickly Aemond reaps your warmth. He calls out, "from what?"

You stop and snap from over your shoulder, "from whatever it is you think you can do!"

He was sober now, and his throat was dry at that.

"My burden is mine. I am his wife."

"And am to be king," he whispers, taking a step forward. He watches as you heave. He's long wondered what it would feel like to hear it as you did so beneath him.

"But you are not king," you reply, stepping back to maintain the space between you, "and you have your sister wife."

"Who would deny me?" he peers his face closer to you, "even a fool would deny me nothing."

"I would," you rebut.

He freezes.

"I am prize to you," you muffle out. Your manage an even voice even as hurt baptizes your cheeks, "meat between your teeth. You and him are cut from the same cloth."

"I AM NOT MY BROTHER, " Aegon snaps.

You flinch, just as you did Aegon. You shake your head and force a smile, "of course not, your grace."

The next moment, Aegon realizes he may not have been as sober as he thought, considering how quickly you fled him and how delayed his reaction to it was.

But then again, it was probably just you and your effect on him. After all, he managed to evade the incoming attack from behind, albeit momentarily; Aemond's senses were far shaper than Aegon's.

He grabs his older brother by the collar and shoves him against the wall. "All my life, I watched you be spoon-fed your desires, yet still you covet my bride," the younger Targaryen rages.

Aegon grins in challenge. He chuckles, "as it appears, you covet your own wife from me, brother."

Without warning, the first born is hurtled to the ground. He lets out an undignified grunt after he collides with the stone. He gasps when Aemond lunges at him.

It was only at this moment, he realized his brother without his eye patch. Dare he say that the sight of the sapphire added to the madness in is functioning eye.

Aemond produces a dagger and presses it to Aegon's neck. The former seethes, "I have every right to demand satisfaction from you."

Aegon groans when the cold steel kisses his skin too tenderly.

"You wouldn't last a second against me," the prince spits with venom, "brother."

"Do it then," Aegon screws his eyes shut, "and watch your marriage crumble before your very eyes."

Aemond throws his dagger to the side and slams Aegon once, "DO NOT TRY TO TRICK ME! I saw her reel from your touch."

"Oh," he utters through pain, "just as she reels from you, I bet."

Aemond releases him with a growl and heaves while looking down at him. He paces around; Aegon props himself up on his elbows, slowly coming to a stand.

Before Aegon can goad him on any further, Aemond grabs his dagger and pushes past him.

Both of them anxiously await your return that night. Aegon falls asleep whilst waiting for word from a servant, Aemond fights sleep whilst waiting for you to return to bed.

Yes, in Aemond's defense, the rumors about you and his brother was enough reason to pick a fight. In his defense, it was his right.

And for the first time, when you received invite for that hunting expedition with your cousin, no longer did he send you off on your own. He was keen to keep you at his side at all times, especially because Aegon weaseled his way into joining.

Aemond did not know why your cousin was so against the idea of hunting a stag. He was, in fact, offended by the Baratheon's adamant decline. The lesser lord dared even imply such a beast was beyond his caliber. He wasn't surprised you sided with your him, imploring Aemond to try his hand another season. What spurred him on was how Aegon agreed with you and how you looked at him when he smiled your way.

Yet, the spite he bore for his brother was the same thing that led to cooperation with him.

That night, when you thought he was sleeping, Aemond followed you outside. When you were nowhere to be seen when he got out of your shared tent, he stormed to his brother's, sure to catch you in the act.

All he got was a startled brother, cuddling up to a pillow when he ripped his blanket off, a naked one at that.

And after a bit of arguing, Aemond saw a shadow of a deer passing outside the tent. That was how the brothers ended up in the forest. Aemond was intent to hunt that stag and Aegon was intent to watch him fail.

Again, in his defense, it was dark. In his defense, of course he wouldn't believe Aegon when he said that they were stalking a doe and not a stag.

Aemond was satisfied with his shot when he heard the beast cry out in pain. Aegon was satisfied when they found the writhing deer to be, in fact a doe.

It was common knowledge not to hunt the female of a species, yet the two debated whether or not they should let the injured animal go free or put it out of its misery. They thought they received the answer when the animal dropped in agony, but instead they received horror that would last them lifetimes upon witnessing the beast morph into a bride.

Your bare body laid before them, stomach pierced with an arrow. No traces of a doe was left, there was only pain and you. Tremors took over your body. Yolur tears flowed as steady as the blood from your gaping wound.

Aemond fell to your side, eye wide as he reached out to you. He thought a touch of your trembling flesh wake him from this nightmare, but it didn't. His mind raced, but he had a moment of clarity when he felt your blood dampen his knees.

He took off his shirt and covered you. You screamed in pain when he tried to carry you by himself, and he glared at his brother when he tried to help.

Aemond does not stop him however, thus, the brothers carried your body back to camp.

When you were laid on your shared bed, Aemond ordered Aegon to wake everyone and ready a carriage back to the city. His brother runs off to do just that.

"This will hurt," Aemond tells you, "but I must cut part of the arrow and bind your wound."

Before he can do so, you wet his face with the blood on your hand as you whine, "why do you weep for me?"

Aemond's brows furrow.

You swipe your thumb on his cheek with great difficulty. "Soon you will have the freedom you desire," you mumble, eyes slowly closing, "as will I."

The pain that courses through you when your husband breaks off part of your arrow prevents you from passing out.

As an extra precaution, Aemond taps your cheek, "keep your eyes fixed on me."

Your sad eyes open. Your tears gush down like rain.

"Is this why you're invited to hunt so often?" he cups your cheek, shaking you slightly, "does your cousin, himself, turn into a stag?"

Your reply does not come easy. You speak between your breaths, "it is a curse from my father... for hunting so many of them..."

There is commotion from outside your tent.

Aemond has the mind to grab some fabric to press on your wound. You cry out again because of this.

"Why didn't you tell me of your affliction?" he speak in panic.

Stabbing pain cuts off the laugh you meant to laugh. Your breath shortens, yet you manage a response, "would you have listened?"

He must admit, all the prayers he ever prayed were only uttered to please his mother, but as Aemond held half your body in the carriage back to King's Landing, as he watched Aegon's tears fall onto you while he held your other half, he prayed as earnestly as any pious man would. He claimed he would be better, he would even share you, if that is what it took to keep you.

And just as easily as Death unified the Targaryen brothers, she collected your soul the same night.