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The Day After
Aegon II Targaryen x Reader
Yesterday I felt more confident posting this (maybe because I finished writing it having a fever lol) but I want to share it anyway because I miss posting
Please feel free to like, leave a comment or reblog. These things motivate me to keep writing
And if you have any ideas, any headcanons or just want to talk about something my inbox is always open
Now I wish you all a good read <3
Aegon looks so calm and you don't know how to feel about that. You think he should be nervous, panicking, or even uncomfortable but he's happy eating the breakfast that the two of you ordered from room service at the hotel, as if today was a normal day, as if it wasn't crazy that you woke up next to him with a ring on your ring finger.
But you don't feel nervous, scared, or uncomfortable about this situation either.
When you were invited to Martyn's bachelor party in Las Vegas you never imagined that you would end up married to your best friend but you're not upset.
Of course, you were both drunk, you were left alone in the bar while everyone else went to the slots, and you ended up confessing that you were bummed that you weren’t married yet and that you were afraid of ending up alone. So Aegon told you to marry him and you laughed, you told him that he didn’t need to go to that extreme to make you feel better but he insisted, he told you that if he won the roulette then you two should get married. Of course, he won by choosing your birthday as his number. And that’s how you two ended up getting married.
You weren't nervous when you signed the papers or when you kissed. You thought it would be weird to kiss him but it felt good. You liked the softness of his lips and how he held your face like you were something precious. Aegon also had to enjoy kissing you because he couldn't seem to separate his lips from yours as they walked back to his room making you feel like a lovestruck schoolgirl again. You were happy and delighted. Your teenage self didn't think you would ever dare to be with Aegon without being afraid of ruining your friendship.
Last night Aegon made you feel loved and wanted. He kissed and worshipped your body like you were a deity.
“What are you thinking about?” your husband asked, drawing your attention.
“Nothing,” you said, and hurried to take a sip of your coffee to have an excuse not to talk.
Aegon raised an eyebrow at you, “Liar, you’re wrinkling your brow.”
Of course, he knew the expression you made when you tried to lie. You didn’t mind that detail, it was more like he was giving you another confirmation of why he was the man for you.
“I was thinking about us,” you finally admitted.
“It hasn’t even been a day and you’re already regretting marrying me?” You could see that he tried to say it as a joke but you could feel that he genuinely cared, noticing that his eyes seemed to have suddenly lost their sparkle and his body wasn’t as relaxed as before.
“I don’t regret marrying you” you declared without hesitation and you saw how the tension disappeared from his body. “And you?” you asked although you were already sure you knew the answer.
“Of course not” he answered instantly, almost seeming offended by your question.
You smiled feeling your heart warming up. “Good”
“Good,” he repeated, mirroring your smile. “I love you,” he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
It wasn't the first time he told you he loved you but this time it was different. He didn't say it as your best friend, nor did he say it when he was drunk or in the heat of the moment. You had no doubt about his feelings for you.
You leaned over the table to kiss him. "I love you too," you said on his lips.
The truth is that neither of you was afraid of the future; in fact, you couldn't wait to see what was coming. You two would probably have to tolerate criticism from your families for having done things in the wrong order and for having dared to take such a step, but that didn't worry either of you now that you were together.
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Coping (Modern!AU)
Summary: Aegon had finally found a coping mechanism to help him with his addiction. But it was embarrassing. Insanely embarrassing. He had hoped that (Y/n) would never find out. She would definitely leave him, wouldn't she?
Word count: 1.357
Authors Notes: mentions of sexual abuse and ptsd for side characters, mentions of drug abuse
This is a bit of a different thing, but it got stuck in my head for a few days now, so enjoy.
He was embarrassed. But it was the one thing that helped him somehow.
His therapist even encouraged him. He looked angrily at the binky, when all he wanted to do was put it back in his mouth.
He knew that she had to find out at some point. He had hoped that it wouldn't happen, but subconsciously, there had been no question.
After his last withdrawal, he had looked for and found a new therapist. She was much more solution-orientated than the ones he had had until then. They had discussed ways and alternatives. And then his messed-up brain got stuck on this crap.
His therapist said that everyone finds their own way of dealing with stress and that he could get rid of it once he had stabilised more in his day to day life.
Aegon had accepted it for the time being. A binky. Why not? They were everywhere at raves and nobody looked twice.
But he didn't have it in his mouth at a rave, but at home. In the evenings on the sofa in front of the TV, watching children's shows and films from the past and building one Lego set after another. His therapist called it a healthy coping strategy and healing the inner child. He had also convinced himself of this. He was fine with it. He was in his little stress-free world. It helped.
It helped until his grandfather came into his flat without warning and looked at him in disgust. He hadn't said anything, but he had seen the disgust at his weakness.
"Alcohol is served at the charity gala . If you can't handle it, you don't have to come." Aegon had just stared at him, frozen like a deer in headlights. He hadn't really realised it until that moment. He knew he wouldn't be peddling his new method, but he had been at peace with it. Afterwards, he had been all too aware of the weight of the binky on his tongue.
When his grandfather had left as quickly as he had arrived, he had immediately called his therapist, who had calmed him down for a good hour.
Since then, his flat had been locked and the key was stuck inside. Every evening he had his "relaxation time".
He had met (Y/n) at an AA meeting. She often helped behind the scenes and otherwise organised psychological support for participants with low income. That day, however, she had just set up the coffee table.
She was everything he could have hoped for. He loved her. He just wanted to be with her, but he didn't want her to look at him the way his grandfather did... but he really needed this time at the moment... or forever.
He had been tired. He hadn't been focussed. He had locked the door but hadn't left the key in the lock.
He had fallen asleep. She had come in and seen him. On the sofa in front of him was a half-built Lego set. 'Cars' was still on the telly and he was lying on the sofa. In his softest pyjamas... and unconsciously sucking on his binky.
He had been woken up by the creaking floorboards and had fled as soon as he realised the situation.
And now he was sitting here in the bathroom, trying to suppress his tears.
He heard her knocking gently on the door.
"Aegon?"
He said nothing.
"Aegon, can we please talk before you start imagining the worst again? Please."
His limbs felt like they were filled with lead.
"Do you want... Shall I get your phone? Do you want to talk to Dr Watson first?"
He could feel the tears running down his cheeks. His hands were shaking. He was on the verge of a panic attack.
"Yes.", he pressed out.
"Okay."
He heard her through the door. "Okay. I'll put it outside the door and then... I'll wait in the kitchen. Take your time."
After a brief moment, in which footsteps moved away and then came closer again, he heard another knock. "I'll wait then."
With that, the footsteps resumed.
He crawled to the door on all fours and opened it just a crack. She had placed the phone so that he only had to open the door slightly. He didn't deserve her.
He reached for the device and quickly dialled Dr Watson's number.
She picked up straight away. He heard a cat meowing in the background.
"Aegon. How can I help you?"
Aegon pulled up his snot. "She's seen me.", he whimpered pathetically.
He heard a plate being put down. "Okay Aegon, I need a little more explanation here. But for now, take a breath and then tell me five things you can see."
Aegon rattled off the small selection on his sink and tried to breathe the way she'd shown him. Breathe in. Hold it. Exhale.
"(Y/n) has seen me... with... with that thing."
It took Dr Watson a good half hour to get him to the point where he opened the door and walked cautiously into his kitchen.
(Y/n) looked at him just as uncertainly. She smiled anyway. "I'm sorry. But you did give me your key, so I thought it would be okay."
Aegon just sat down next to her and looked at the tabletop.
"Just go on.", he grumbled. His fit had simply taken too much energy out of him. He was completely exhausted.
"What do you mean?", she asked in surprise.
"Laugh already.", he bit out.
"But I don't want to laugh.", she said simply. She hesitantly put her hand in front of him. An offer to add his.
He carefully placed his trembling hand next to hers. "But you should. I'm pathetic."
He felt her second hand firmly on his cheek. Gently, but firmly, she turned his face to hers. "You're not pathetic.", she said firmly. "I'm incredibly proud of you."
Aegon laughed in disbelief. "Proud. Your boyfriend walks around at night with a binky, watches children's films and builds Lego.", he hissed.
"But he doesn't drink and hasn't taken heroin for almost a year now. I feel a lot of pride in that."
Aegon looked at her with incredulous sadness. "Others just do yoga or something. And I..."
"But some people need something else than yoga. There used to be a guy from the navy with ptsd who came to all AA meetings with a plushie. The Gryffindor lion from those squishmallows. The guy was a lieutenant before and now this is his anchor. A woman who experienced sexual abuse painted her whole flat with finger paint. A former CEO swore on onesis. Aegon this is nothing pathetic.... And I would never laugh at you for it. If that helps you, then so be it. And... And I'm not saying you should... If you want to live it out for yourself and don't want me to be there, that's fine too. But I'm not laughing at you."
Aegon could feel the tears in his eyes again. Her thumb stroked his cheek.
"You'd sit with the binky-guy and watch 'Cars' with him?" he mumbled, absolutely bewildered. He wanted nothing more than to have her with him, but he also didn't want her to start seeing him differently.
She smiled. "If I can colour in mandalas, while I do it."
Aegon smirked. "Mandalas?"
She shrugged, smirking as well. "I like it."
Aegon's hand trembled as she reached for the breast pocket of his shirt. Slowly, he took out the binky. He looked at her again, then put it back in his mouth. He felt strangely exposed.
She stroked his cheek again. "I don't have any mandalas with me today, but I wouldn't mind a little cuddling."
Aegon just nodded and let himself be pulled towards the sofa. He pressed the remote control until 'Cars' started all over again and allowed (Y/n) to press his back against her chest. He felt her fingers gently running through his hair. Carefully, he began to suck on the binky until he fell asleep in her arms, tired from the day but relaxed now.
He really loved her. And she... she loved him.
#aegon fanfic#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon the second#aegon ii targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon fluff
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‘The Bitter Bond.’
Chapter XIII
“The only way to secure your daughters claim to the throne, is to have the Princess marry your son, Your Grace” Lord Lyonel was sat beside the King.
“And how exactly will that play out? What are you suggesting?” Viserys asks.
“Prince Aegon is a man. Princess Rhaenyra is a woman. There is no doubt, the realm will not accept her to be Queen, when you are no longer present. And no doubt, your Hand, will do the best to usurp the throne” Lord Lyonel paused, waiting to see if King Viserys would get the hint.
Unfortunately, he did not.
With a sigh, Lord Lyonel then leaned forward, “Princess Daerlyssa is Princess Rhaenyra’s daughter. Marrying Prince Aegon will give her the advantage of having your blood sit the throne, should it be usurped. Princess Daerlyssa is our only hope.”
“It will make no difference, they will have my granddaughter become a consort, if a usurpation was to take place” Viserys, despite slightly being intrigued, held back.
“Except, it will make it easier for Daemon to fight for the throne, and to pass it to the rightful heir, your daughter, Princess Rhaenyra” Lord Lyonel looked at Viserys in worry, “you are in poor health, your grace. You must see to reason, that this is possibly the only way, to stop a usurpation when you are no longer here.”
-
“Princess” Ser Arryk gave a polite gesture, as did his brother, Ser Erryk, when the two were stood, guarding the doors of the Great Hall.
The King had called, for his granddaughter.
Turning around, Daerlyssa looked towards Ser Harold, who gave her a nod, “I will wait out here, Princess.”
She nods back, turning towards the doors once again, before being politely welcomed, as her grandfather was sat at the throne, watching as she made her way down, to him.
It was complete silence, the sound of her heels clicking against the floor, followed by a sudden bang, as the doors were pulled closed, leaving her alone.
“Your grace” she politely greeted her grandfather, “you called for me?”
“Yes, I did” he responds, “do not be scared, child. Come closer.”
Daerlyssa looked around, as she continued walking towards him, wondering what he wished to speak of, to have her desert in the hall with him.
“You seem nervous” Viserys sits up, leaning forward.
“I do not understand why you have asked to see me. On my own” Daerlyssa gulped.
With only a couple of steps away, Daerlyssa stopped, as she stood facing him.
“We must speak, of my proposal” Viserys responds, watching Daerlyssa let out a soft sigh, “the last we spoke of this, you stormed out.”
“Marry my Uncle is a grave mistake, your grace” Daerlyssa responds, “I do not want to face the same fate as my mother.”
“And what fate would that be?” Viserys asks, knowing she questioned his parenting skills.
“You had my mother marry a man, who could not give her children. My brothers are bastards, by nature. It had given every reason for whispers around this place, towards my family” Daerlyssa scoffed, “if you had married her to my father first, my mother would have not had to move away, to Dragonstone.”
“And you are afraid Aegon will not give you children?” Viserys scoffs, “do you think I’d allow that?”
“You allowed it with my mother” Daerlyssa responds, “as for me.. you know of your son’s desires. He will not be able to give me children, and I do not want to be his wife.”
“Daerlyssa, do you understand why I am asking that you marry him?” Viserys asks.
“Because you find his love for men a sin. You wish this marriage would cleanse him. My uncle has confided in what you have spoken, to him” Daerlyssa responds.
Viserys sighed, as he shook his head no, forcing himself up, off the throne.
Looking towards her, he stepped down, making his way towards her.
“Daerlyssa, if you care for your family, your only choice is to marry your Uncle” Viserys explains.
“What would marrying him do, to help my family?” Daerlyssa asks.
“Your mother is the heir, as you are aware” Viserys states.
“Yes, I am aware” Daerlyssa responds.
“Dear, I do not know how long I will” Viserys let out a soft chuckle, at his weakness, “my time will be up, and soon enough, it will be time for your mother to rule. Except.. she is a woman.”
“If you thought of it that way, why did you chose to name her your heir?” Daerlyssa asks.
“I do not think of it that way” Viserys shook his head, “no. But the realm would put a torch the throne, than see a woman sit it. It is possible, that Aegon would become a usurper.”
“And you wish I’d marry him? You think that is what will help my family?” Daerlyssa scoffed.
“If you marry, you will become his consort” Viserys explains.
“I do not wish to be his consort. I wish to be a woman with dignity. Marrying, for a game.. what dignity would that give me?” Daerlyssa asks.
“Your mother will struggle to take back her throne, if it is not for you” Viserys responds.
“You forget your brother, your Grace. My father hates your children, with you consort. Every single one, he despises. If they were to usurp the throne, it would only take Daemon a day to get it back” Daerlyssa looked towards her grandfather blankly.
Looking toward his sword, Viserys begins to walk around her, to walk past, leaving the throne in her rear view.
“Daemon has no army. He knows better himself, he can not fight for the throne. Not alone” Viserys responds.
“My father is strong” Daerlyssa turns around to face him, only managing to face his back, “he could kill an entire city, with no army.”
“And kill the small folk?” Viserys asks, “Rhaenyra would not allow it.
Turning back around, he looked at Daerlyssa with pleading eyes, as reached out, holding both her hands.
“You are your family’s only hope. If you do not, the throne will be usurped. War will follow, as you and your family are forced to bend the knee to your Uncle and the Hightowers. Is that what you want?” Viserys asks.
“No, but-?”
“Then you must marry” Viserys demands, “take my word, and marry your uncle, or live to see fire and blood shed, as the house of the dragon falls to its doom.”
“So I must sacrifice my happiness, in order for this house to stay stable?” Daerlyssa asks.
“We all must make sacrifices. This is one not for me, but for you. For your mother. My only child” Viserys slipped his hands out of hers, before cradling her face gently, as he looked into her eyes, “marry Aegon.”
-
A couple of days had passed, since the conversation between Daerlyssa and her grandfather had taken place.
He had given her time to process, and think, of what she must do.
…
“Where are you taking me?” Daerlyssa chuckled, as she held onto Aemond’s arm, the two walking the streets of the city, late at night, disguised in capes.
They had eventually come to a stop, with a crowd stood before them.
Yet, Aemond managed to have them squeeze past, as the two were intrigued of what was going on.
“Rhaenyra, the Realm’s Delight. A girl so young and so slight.”
“We should go” Aemond whispered, as he held Daerlyssa’s hand tightly.
Yet she shook her head no, her eyes forward to the play before her, as she heard the laughter from the crownd.
“Would she make a powerful queen? Or would she be feeble?”
“Feeble!” The crowd around her shout out in response.
Daerlyssa then looks around to the crowd, confused and hurt, by the slander they give, to her mother.
Aemond notices the shift in her body, as she looked around, her eyes slightly teared.
“Though, Aegon, the Prince, might long for a claim, he has two things Rhaenyra can not; a conqueror’s name, and a cock!”
Daerlyssa heard the laughter around her once again, before turning around as she stormed away, Aemond following after her.
…
“Daerlyssa, wait” Aemond called out.
“Is this what everyone thinks?” Daerlyssa turns to face Aemond, as the two stood in an alley, “because my mother is not a woman, she can not sit the throne, is that truly people’s nature?”
“It does not matter what they think” Aemond responds, “the King has named his heir. It is his word, over theirs. They have no choice, but to accept.”
“Yet they would rather have your brother sit the throne” Daerlyssa scoffed.
“No woman has sat the iron throne. It is simply just not being able to fathom such a thing” Aemond responds.
He could not understand the reason for her teared eyes, not aware of the conversation she and Viserys shared.
Not realising Daerlyssa’s sorrow was her acceptance, that Viserys was right.
That she would have to sacrifice the idea of being happy, in order to save her family.
“If you are afraid of being hurt, then I can assure you, the people of Westeros would not hurt a woman” Aemond assured her.
Yet his words weren’t enough to have her persuaded, as she took a step away from him, “everywhere in the world, they hurt women like me. We are never safe, when men are ruling.”
-
As the next morning had come, Aemond was making his way down for breakfast.
It was a rough night, given his adventure with Daerlyssa had been cut short, after she had wished to return home, due to what she witnessed from the small folk.
Aemond had found himself worried, hoping to speak to her that morning, yet could not find her within her chamber, or anywhere.
Until he reached the table, looking up to see Daerlyssa stood at the table, beside Viserys.
The faces at the table, clearly in distress.
“Aemond” Viserys called out, “please, sit.”
Aemond nodded slowly, looking towards Daerlyssa. Whilst she could feel his eye on her, she fought to keep her eyes away, looking straight.
“What is going on?” Aemond asks, as he sat beside Helena.
“Daerlyssa has accepted to marry our brother” Helena responded.
Aemond felt the time stop, a feeling as though everything began to move slowly.
Looking towards Aegon, he noticed the betrayal on his face, as he looked for help, in getting out of such a thing.
To then look at Daerlyssa’s eyes, whose eyes were full of tears, yet she kept her head held high, hiding away what she truly felt in that moment.
“What?” Aemond wished to ask, yet the words were taken out his mouth, when he turned to the voice that spoke.
There stood Daemon, beside Rhaenyra, as they look towards their daughter.
“I will marry” Daerlyssa responded.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
chapter 14
#hotd fanfic#house of the dragon#house targaryen#hotd fanfiction#daemon targaryen#fanfiction#fanfic#aemond targaryen#aegon fanfic#aegon targaryen#aemondfanfic#aemond fluff#aemond targaryen fanfiction#hotd aemond#aemond fanfiction#hotd cregan#hotd
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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
#house of the dragon#hotd smut#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon fanfic#aegon targaryen smut#aegon targaryen fanfic#aegon imagine#aegon smut
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⸻ 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
#🕊️. a song of ice and fire#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏#aegon targaryen x reader#hotd x reader#yandere hotd#aegon x reader#yandere x reader#aegon ii x reader#dark aegon targaryen#yandere aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii fanfic#yandere x you#aegon fanfic#dark aemond x reader#dark aemond targaryen#dark daemon targaryen#dark hotd#dark aemond targeryan#dark aegon x reader#yandere daemon targaryen#yandere male#tw.dark content#tw.yandere#tw.noncon#tw.incest#yandere#daemon targaryen x reader#daemon x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x reader
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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.
#aegon fanfic#aegon targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen#aegon smut#aegon angst#aegon targaryen angst#house of the dragon angst#house of the dragon fanfic#house of the dragon#aegon x reader#aegon x you#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon ii targaryen x you#aegon ii fanfic
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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.
#𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑦 𝑠𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟#ㅤㅤ⠀ㅤ 𓇼ㅤ ㅤ𓂂ㅤㅤ ˚ㅤㅤ ◌ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ㅤ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏͏ ͏͏#hotd#house of the dragon#aegon ii targaryen#aegon the second#hotd aegon#king aegon#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon ii targaryen x reader#aegon fanfic#aegon x reader x aemond#aegon ii targaryen x y/n#aemond fluff#prince aemond#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen x reader#aemond x reader#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen x female reader#hotd daeron#daeron the daring#daeron targaryen#aemond x you#aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader#aegon targaryen x targaryen!reader#targaryen reader#hotd x reader
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-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.
⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen fanfic#aegon targaryen smut#aegon targaryen imagine#aegon targaryen drabble#aegon x reader#aegon x you#aegon smut#aegon imagine#aegon ii fanfic#aegon ii x reader#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x y/n#aegon ii imagine#aegon ii smut#aegon fanfic#aegon ii fic#aegon targaryen ii#aegon fic#house of the dragon#house of the dragon x reader#house of the dragon fanfiction#hotd smut#hotd x reader#hotd fanfic#hotd#hotd fic
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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.
. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
Thank you for reading! 🩵
#aegon ii targaryen fanfiction#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii fanfic#aegon the second#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#aegon the elder#aegon ii#aegon fanfic#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen smut#aegon targaryen imagine
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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
#aegon ii#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x you#aegon the second#aegon x reader#aegon targaryen ii#aegon targaryen smut#aegon targaryen imagine#aegon x you#aegon angst#aegon fluff#aegon smut#aegon fanfic#hotd smut#house of the dragon
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Our Fate - Aegon Targaryen x Sister!Reader
Summary : Your marriage with Aegon has a good influence on you both, Aegon changes his character to be better and you also feel the changes in him day by day.
Alicent’s screams echoed through the castle, filling the air with pain and tension. Inside her private chambers, the maester and midwives worked desperately to calm her, holding her trembling hands gently, trying to ease her pain so she could remain calm and bring her second child into the world safely.
“Calm down, Your Grace,” the maester said in a low, steady voice, though his eyes were filled with concern. “Take deep breaths. Your child will be born soon.”
Despite the comforting words, Alicent’s face betrayed the agony she was enduring. She bit her lip, stifling every scream, unwilling to show weakness in front of those around her. Yet, her body was betraying her, the pain growing more intense with every passing moment.
The midwives hurried to prepare everything needed, working as swiftly as possible to ensure the birth would go smoothly. They knew all too well, from past experience, how dangerous childbirth could be. No one could predict what might happen, especially with so much pressure surrounding the birth.
Alicent shivered, her eyes filled with anxiety—not just for herself, but for the child she carried. “I… I can’t,” her voice broke, barely a whisper. “What if something goes wrong? What if I lose this child?”
One of the midwives gently took her hand, offering reassurance. “Your Grace, you’ve been strong up until now. We will make sure everything goes well. Trust us.”
Yet, despite their reassuring words, fear still gripped Alicent’s heart. What if this was the end of it all?
The midwife checked on Alicent once more, her face focused and serious. “The baby is ready,” she said, her voice steady. "Your Grace, you need to push now. With all your strength.”
Alicent, her body trembling from the exertion and pain, nodded, gripping the sheets tightly as she gathered every ounce of strength left in her. She cried out as she pushed, her breath coming in quick, shallow gasps. The pain was unbearable, yet she forced herself to endure, driven by the knowledge that her child was so close to being born.
Moments later, the midwife’s voice rang out with relief, “A healthy girl, Your Grace. Your daughter is born safe and sound.”
Alicent let out a shaky breath, a sense of overwhelming relief flooding through her. The pain was still there, but the weight of it felt lighter now. She could hear the soft cries of her newborn, and for a moment, she felt like the world had lifted off her shoulders.
But then, to her shock, the midwife’s voice grew more urgent. “Wait… there’s more. Another one is coming.”
Alicent’s eyes widened with disbelief, her heart racing as the pain returned, even more intense than before. She hadn’t expected this. A second child? Another girl?
The midwives worked quickly, helping her to push once more, and soon, another baby girl was born. The room was filled with the cries of two healthy daughters, and Alicent was left in stunned silence, her body exhausted but filled with awe.
Two daughters. Twins.
She couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed. The pain that had nearly broken her moments ago was now replaced with a mix of emotions—relief, joy, and a profound sense of love for these two little girls who had come into the world against all odds. But even as her heart swelled with love, the reality set in: she was the mother of two newborn daughters now, and life as she knew it had just changed forever.
You walk through the garden with your ladies-in-waiting by your side. The gentle rustling of leaves and the soft chirping of birds fill the air, creating a peaceful melody that makes the moment feel serene. The sun filters through the canopy of trees, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the path ahead.
Your hand rests on your growing belly, your fingers moving in slow, thoughtful circles. Every now and then, you glance down, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. There’s a quiet contentment in moments like this — when the world feels slower, calmer.
Your ladies-in-waiting walk close by, their light chatter filling the air. Occasionally, you join the conversation, sharing a laugh or offering a kind remark. You enjoy their company, especially on days like this when Aegon is away, training with Aemond on the practice field. The clang of steel on steel is distant, muffled by the trees and the gentle hum of the garden, but you know they’re there, locked in their familiar dance of blades and pride.
The scent of blooming flowers drifts past on the breeze, sweet and fresh. You pause for a moment to take it in, letting the soft fragrance fill your senses. The warmth of the sun on your skin, the steady movement of life within you, and the simple joy of being surrounded by beauty — it’s in moments like these that you feel at peace.
One of your ladies comments on the beauty of a nearby rose bush, its crimson petals so vivid they almost seem unreal. You nod in agreement, reaching out to gently touch a velvety petal. “It’s strong,” you muse softly, your eyes lingering on the bloom. “Even with thorns, it still flourishes.”
Your gaze shifts to your belly, your hand still resting protectively over it. You walk on, the sound of footsteps crunching softly on the path behind you. No matter the burdens that come with war, court politics, or the pressures of family, moments like these remind you of your own strength. For like the roses, you endure, you grow — and you will bloom in your own time.
You turn your head and see your mother, Queen Alicent, walking toward you with your twin sister, Helaena, by her side. The sight of them fills you with warmth, and a bright smile lights up your face. Without hesitation, you step forward to greet them.
“Mother,” you say fondly as you embrace her. Her arms wrap around you with the firm but gentle hold only a mother can give. For a moment, you feel like a child again, safe and secure in her embrace.
She pulls back slightly to look at you, her gaze immediately dropping to your growing belly. Concern flickers in her eyes as she brushes a strand of hair from your face. “Are you feeling tired, my sweet girl?” she asks, her voice laced with both worry and affection.
You smile softly, shaking your head. “No, Mother, I’m well. The walk does me good,” you reply, resting a hand on your belly. “The babe is calm today, too.”
Alicent’s eyes soften with relief, and a small smile tugs at her lips. “Good,” she says, glancing down at your belly with quiet reverence. “Still, you mustn’t overexert yourself. Rest is just as important as strength.”
Helaena steps closer, her gaze distant but kind as she looks at you and then at your belly. “Dreams of wings and warmth,” she says softly, tilting her head as if listening to something only she can hear. Her words are strange, but they do not unsettle you. You’ve grown used to her cryptic musings, and sometimes, they carry truths no one else sees.
“Perhaps the little one dreams, too,” you say gently, and Helaena smiles, as if you’ve understood something important.
The three of you continue to walk together, side by side, surrounded by the soft hum of the garden. With each step, you feel lighter, knowing that, no matter the trials to come, you have the love of your family to steady you.
You sip your tea, savoring its warmth as you listen to your mother, Alicent, speak. Her voice is steady, carrying the calm authority of someone who has spent a lifetime navigating courts and crowns. Her knitting needles continue their soft, rhythmic clacking, each stitch carefully crafted with love for your unborn child.
Beside you, Helaena sits on the grass, her gaze distant yet filled with quiet wonder. Her hands are outstretched, her fingers delicate as a butterfly perches lightly on them. She tilts her head, watching it closely, her lips curling into a soft smile. The creature’s wings flutter slowly, catching the golden light of the sun, and for a moment, it seems as though the world around her has stilled to match her calm.
You watch her quietly, your eyes filled with affection and a touch of curiosity. Your twin sister has always seemed connected to things others could not see or understand. It’s no surprise to see her at peace with something as fleeting as a butterfly.
Your gaze lingers on her a little longer, thoughtful. It hasn’t been long since she was wed to Aemond, and the idea fills you with a quiet hope. Perhaps soon she, too, will have a child of her own. The thought of your children growing up together — cousins but also as close as siblings — warms your heart.
“She’s always been gentle with them,” Alicent says softly, following your gaze to Helaena. “Butterflies. Insects. Small, fragile things. She understands them in a way that most people don’t.” Her tone is wistful, almost proud.
“She’ll be a good mother,” you say with certainty, your eyes never leaving Helaena. She turns her head slightly as if hearing you, her gaze meeting yours for a moment. She smiles, soft but knowing, as if she’s already seen the future and agrees with you.
“And so will you,” Alicent adds, her voice warm but firm. She gives you a look filled with quiet pride and reassurance. Her hands never stop knitting, her fingers working with steady precision. “Both of you will be wonderful mothers. I have no doubt.”
You glance down at your belly, feeling the gentle, familiar shift of life inside you. The future is uncertain, filled with so many unknowns, but here in the warmth of the sun, with your mother’s love and your sister’s quiet magic, you feel a rare sense of peace.
For a little while longer, you stay there together, letting the world outside the garden fade away. It is enough to simply be here, surrounded by love, hope, and the promise of new life.
You hear a familiar voice calling your name, firm yet tinged with warmth. Your heart lifts instinctively, and you turn toward the sound. There, walking toward you, is Aegon. Beside him is Aemond, his steps measured and precise as always, his face a mask of quiet intensity.
Aegon’s silver hair catches the sunlight, still damp from washing away the sweat of training. It clings in loose strands around his face and neck, giving him a more relaxed, almost boyish appearance. His tunic is slightly wrinkled from exertion, and there’s a hint of lingering energy in his movements, the kind that comes after the thrill of combat.
He grins as he sees you, his violet eyes locked on yours with unmistakable fondness. “There you are,” he says, his voice lighter than usual, as if just seeing you has eased something in him. His gaze flickers briefly to your belly, and his grin softens into something more tender.
Aemond walks at his side, his expression calm but watchful as his single eye takes in the scene. His hair is still perfectly in place, not a strand out of line, though there’s a sheen of effort on his skin. His gaze shifts briefly to Helaena, who is still watching her butterfly with quiet fascination. His face remains impassive, but there’s a certain softness in the way he watches her.
Aegon closes the distance between you with easy strides, his eyes never leaving yours. When he finally reaches you, he crouches slightly, his hand moving instinctively to rest on your belly. His palm is warm through the fabric of your gown, and you feel the familiar comfort of his presence. “Did they give you any trouble today?” he asks playfully, as if the baby inside could somehow be mischievous already.
You chuckle softly, your hand covering his. “Not at all,” you reply, tilting your head to meet his gaze. “Unlike you, I’m sure, causing trouble with your brother.”
Aegon raises a brow, pretending to look offended. “Training isn’t trouble,” he says with mock seriousness. “It’s noble work.”
“Is that what you call it?” you tease, your smile widening.
Aemond lets out a quiet huff that might be a laugh, though he quickly schools his features into calm indifference. His gaze shifts to Alicent, offering her a small nod of respect before his eye drifts back to Helaena.
Aegon’s attention returns fully to you, his grin fading into something softer, more genuine. His thumb traces a gentle circle over your belly before his eyes flick back to yours. “You look beautiful,” he says quietly, so only you can hear. His words are simple, but they linger in the air between you, warming you more than the sun ever could.
You press your hand over his, holding it there for a moment longer. “And you look like you just wrestled a dragon,” you reply, raising a brow.
He laughs, the sound rich and familiar, like the sound of home. “If I did, I’d still win,” he quips, puffing out his chest slightly in jest.
“Of course you would,” you say, humoring him. “You’re Aegon the Conqueror reborn, are you not?”
“Don’t you forget it,” he replies with a wink, leaning in to press a quick, playful kiss to your temple before straightening up again.
The afternoon sun filters through the trees, casting golden light on all of you — Alicent with her knitting, Helaena with her butterfly, Aemond with his quiet watchfulness, and Aegon standing at your side, his hand still resting protectively over your growing belly. For a moment, it feels like the whole world is right here, bound together by love, family, and the quiet certainty that, no matter what lies ahead, you will face it together.
You sit comfortably on the edge of the bed, the soft glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the window, casting a warm light across the room. Aegon kneels before you, his face level with your growing belly. His silver hair falls loosely around his face, still slightly damp from his earlier training.
His hands rest gently on either side of your belly, his thumbs moving in small, absentminded circles. But it’s his voice that draws your attention. He’s speaking softly to the baby, his tone playful yet filled with a quiet tenderness that you rarely see in him.
“Are you being good for your mother?” he murmurs, his violet eyes focused entirely on the curve of your stomach. “No kicks today? Hm? You’re being kind, aren’t you? That’s good. Keep it that way.” He tilts his head, as if waiting for a response, his expression one of mock seriousness. “But if you’re anything like me, you’ll be causing trouble soon enough.”
You can’t help but smile at the sight of him like this — brought to his knees by something so small and unseen. His love is unmistakable in the way he gazes at your belly, in the way his voice softens just for the child he has yet to meet.
Your fingers move through his silver hair, slow and gentle. His hair is soft beneath your touch, and you brush it back from his face, letting your fingertips linger for a moment. He leans into the gesture, his eyes fluttering closed like a cat basking in warmth.
“You’ll spoil them before they’re even born,” you say softly, your voice full of quiet affection.
Aegon opens one eye, glancing up at you with a lopsided grin. “That’s my right as a father,” he replies, turning his face slightly so his cheek rests against your belly. He closes his eyes fully now, letting out a breath as if finally at peace. “Besides, they deserve it.”
You feel the warmth of his cheek through the fabric of your gown, and for a moment, everything else fades away. The weight of the crown, the whispers of court, the distant echoes of war — none of it matters here. It’s just the three of you. You, Aegon, and the life growing between you.
Your hand continues its slow, soothing motion through his hair, your heart full of love so strong it nearly aches. “Yes,” you whisper, your eyes soft with quiet joy. “They do.”
You glance down at Aegon, his head still resting against your belly, and you smile softly. “Come sit with me,” you say gently, your voice quiet but certain.
He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a hint of curiosity before he nods. Rising to his feet, he moves onto the bed, sinking into the mattress beside you with a contented sigh. His presence is warm and steady, and the shift in the bed as he settles feels as familiar as the rise and fall of your own breath.
You lean into him, resting your head on his chest. His arm moves naturally around you, holding you close. His other hand settles instinctively on your belly from behind, his palm resting firmly but gently over the curve of it. His fingers move in slow, soothing strokes, tracing soft circles over the fabric of your gown. The motion is so tender, so careful, that it feels like a lullaby made of touch.
Your eyes flutter closed, your body relaxing fully against him. The rhythm of his breathing is steady beneath you, the strong, reliable thud of his heartbeat in your ear. His warmth surrounds you, and with every slow caress of his hand on your belly, you feel the weight of the day begin to melt away.
“You’re tired,” he murmurs quietly, his lips close to your temple. His voice is lower now, quieter, as though speaking too loudly might disturb the peace you’ve found together.
“Not anymore,” you reply softly, your eyes still closed, letting yourself sink further into the comfort of him. “Not like this.”
His chest rises beneath your cheek with a slow, deep breath. “Good,” he says, his hand never ceasing its gentle movement. “You should rest while you can. Soon, we’ll have another little troublemaker to chase after.”
You hum in response, too relaxed to argue, too content to think of anything but the warmth of him, the safety of this moment, and the quiet love that surrounds you. His hand remains on your belly, his touch steady, protective, and full of love.
For now, there is peace. And that is enough.
You lie on the bed with Aegon, your body nestled comfortably against his. His warmth surrounds you, a protective cocoon that makes you feel safer than any fortress ever could. His arm is draped over you, his hand resting on your belly with familiar ease. His fingers move slowly, tracing soft, rhythmic circles, as if he’s already trying to soothe the child within.
From behind you, you hear the quiet hum of a melody. It’s not a song you fully recognize — perhaps something from childhood or a tune he’s made up on the spot. It’s low and unpolished, but there’s a gentleness to it that makes your heart ache with love. His breath is warm against the back of your neck, his voice a quiet vibration that seems to lull not just you, but the baby as well.
You place your hand over his, your fingers threading through his, stilling his movements for a moment. Your thumb brushes over his knuckles slowly, feeling every ridge and line as if to remind yourself that he is real, that this is real.
“I’m happy,” you whisper, your voice soft but firm, as if speaking a truth that must be heard. Your eyes remain closed, your face relaxed in a rare moment of peace. “I’m happy that fate wasn’t so cruel to us.”
There’s a pause, a stillness in the air that follows your words. For a moment, you think he might not respond. But then, he squeezes your hand, his fingers curling tightly around yours.
“Fate is always cruel,” Aegon says softly, his voice close to your ear, rough but honest. “But even fate can be kind sometimes.” His hand moves again, resuming its slow, soothing strokes over your belly. “Maybe this is our kindness,” he adds, his voice quieter now, as though he’s speaking only to you and the little life growing between you.
You press his hand a little closer to your belly, letting him feel the quiet stillness there. “If it is, then I’ll cherish it,” you murmur, your voice filled with quiet conviction. “I’ll hold on to it, no matter what comes.”
He doesn’t say anything else, but the weight of his silence is as full as any vow. His hand never leaves your belly, and his melody continues, hummed low and soft like a promise only the three of you can hear.
The next day, the sun is gentle in the sky, its warmth softened by a cool breeze that rustles the leaves. You walk side by side with your sister, Helaena, along the stone path that winds through the garden. The scent of blooming flowers fills the air, and the distant hum of bees creates a soft, steady rhythm around you.
Helaena walks with her usual quiet grace, her eyes flitting from one flower to the next, as if each one holds a secret only she can hear. Her fingers brush lightly against the petals as she passes, her touch as delicate as a butterfly’s wing. You glance at her with a fond smile, your hands resting lightly on the curve of your belly.
She’s talking, her voice light and dreamy as she recounts a story about her “little friends” — her name for the insects and creatures she seems to understand better than anyone else.
“The spiders were weaving again last night,” she says softly, her gaze far away but her tone certain. “They made a pattern this time — not like the others. It looked like a wheel, turning slowly.” Her eyes flick toward you, clear and bright, as if to see if you understand. “Maybe it’s a sign of something coming.”
You raise a brow, tilting your head slightly. “A wheel, you say? Perhaps it’s a sign that time is always turning,” you suggest playfully, though you know Helaena’s words often have more weight than they first appear to.
She hums thoughtfully, gazing up at the sky as if seeking an answer among the clouds. “Wheels turn, but they also crush,” she murmurs quietly, her gaze distant again. Then, as if pulled back to the present, she looks at you with a small smile. “But not all of them. Some are just for spinning thread.”
You laugh softly, shaking your head at her musings. Her words often carry a weight you don’t fully understand, but you love them all the same. “Well, I prefer the ones that spin thread,” you say with a grin. “Less danger, more warmth.”
She giggles at that, her smile growing brighter. You both walk a little further, your steps slow and unhurried. You feel calm, at ease, like the world is smaller here in this garden, and only the two of you exist within it.
“I like spending time with you,” you admit after a while, turning to her with a gentle smile. “It feels… peaceful.”
Helaena looks at you with that same soft, knowing smile she always wears when she’s gazing at her butterflies. “Peace is rare,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “So we should hold it tight when it finds us."
Her words linger in the air like the scent of flowers, and you nod, letting her wisdom settle in your heart. The two of you continue your walk, side by side, two sisters sharing the quiet beauty of the garden and the rare, fleeting peace it brings.
Your shared laughter with Helaena is suddenly interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. You turn your head and see them — Aegon and Aemond — standing just at the edge of the garden path. Aegon’s expression is playful, a lopsided grin tugging at the corner of his lips, while Aemond remains his usual composed self, his hands clasped neatly behind his back, his face calm but watchful.
They begin to walk toward you, each with his own distinct stride. Aegon moves with an easy, relaxed confidence, like a man who owns every space he walks into. His eyes are on you, filled with warmth and mischief, his grin growing wider with every step. Aemond’s pace is slower, more deliberate, his gaze flickering briefly to Helaena before returning to you and Aegon. Where Aegon moves with ease, Aemond moves with purpose.
You can’t help but smile at the sight of them. They are as different as night and day, but somehow, in this moment, they both seem so familiar, so perfectly them.
Aegon reaches you first. Without hesitation, he kneels before you, his violet eyes gazing up at you with unspoken affection. He doesn’t say a word, doesn’t need to. His hands gently press against your sides, his touch firm but tender, and then he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your belly.
You feel the warmth of his lips through the fabric of your gown, and your heart swells with love so deep it feels like it could burst. Your fingers move to his hair, gently combing through the soft silver strands, and he tilts his head slightly, leaning into your touch like it’s the only thing grounding him.
“Good morning to you too,” you say softly, your eyes shining with affection.
“Morning to both of you,” Aegon replies, his voice half-teasing, half-sincere as he presses another kiss to your belly. “And you,” he adds, speaking directly to the child inside, his tone playful. “I hope you weren’t giving your mother too much trouble today.”
Helaena giggles beside you, covering her mouth with her hand, while you simply shake your head in quiet amusement. “They’ve been kind,” you reply, resting your other hand on top of his. “Unlike their father.”
Aegon gasps in mock offense, looking up at you with wide eyes. “I am nothing if not kind,” he insists, his grin betraying his words.
“Kind, perhaps,” you say, raising an eyebrow, “but certainly not quiet.”
Aemond approaches at last, his gaze flickering between you, Aegon, and Helaena. His single eye lingers on Helaena for a moment longer, and though his face remains stoic, there is a subtle shift in his expression — something softer, gentler. He stands beside her, his hands still neatly behind his back, his posture as rigid as ever.
“Are we interrupting something?” Aemond asks, his voice smooth and even, though there’s a hint of dry humor in it. His gaze shifts to Aegon, who is still on his knees, shamelessly clinging to you like a lovesick fool.
“Only my moment of peace,” you reply, casting a playful glance at Aemond. “But I suppose I can forgive you both this time.”
Aegon rises slowly, still grinning, his hand slipping into yours. “Peace is overrated,” he says with a wink, tugging you gently closer to him. “But I’ll give you something better.”
He presses a kiss to your cheek, his lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. You roll your eyes, but you don’t pull away. Instead, you squeeze his hand, your smile soft and full of love.
“Better be good, then,” you reply, leaning your head briefly against his shoulder.
Helaena’s gaze shifts between all of you, her eyes distant but bright, as though she’s seeing something far beyond the present moment. “The wheel spins,” she says softly, her voice almost sing-song. “But for now, it’s at rest.”
Aemond glances at her, his brow furrowing just slightly, but he says nothing. Instead, he moves to stand beside her, his hands finally leaving their place behind his back to brush lightly against her arm. She doesn’t flinch, only glances at him with a small, knowing smile.
You close your eyes for a brief moment, breathing in the fresh air of the garden, the warmth of Aegon at your side, and the steady, grounding presence of family all around you. For now, the wheel is at rest, and you allow yourself to believe, just for a moment, that peace like this might last forever.
The four of you walk together along the garden path, the late morning sun filtering through the trees, casting dappled light across the ground. The air smells of fresh blooms and the faint, sweet scent of wildflowers carried by the breeze. Helaena walks ahead, her attention on a butterfly that flits just out of reach. Her gaze is full of quiet wonder, and Aemond stays close by her side, his single eye watchful as always. His steps are slow and measured, as if he’s guarding her every move without her even noticing.
You walk beside Aegon, his hand loosely clasping yours. Every so often, his thumb rubs circles over your knuckles, a silent gesture of affection. His other hand occasionally hovers near your waist, ready to catch you if you stumble, though you haven’t. You’re steady, even as the weight of your growing belly pulls at your balance.
It’s Aemond who breaks the quiet, his voice cutting through the soft hum of the garden. “Are you not tired?” he asks, glancing your way with that sharp, calculating gaze of his. “Walking this much while carrying all that weight can’t be easy.”
His words are blunt, but there’s no malice in them — only quiet concern, the kind of care he rarely shows to anyone but Helaena. His eyes shift briefly to your belly before returning to your face, his expression cool but attentive.
You raise a brow, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Are you calling me heavy, brother?” you tease lightly, glancing at him with playful eyes. “Careful, or I might think you’ve grown bold.”
Aegon lets out a short laugh, his grin wide and mischievous. “Careful, brother,” he says with mock seriousness, his voice full of amusement. “A pregnant woman’s wrath is no small thing.”
Helaena giggles softly ahead of you, her fingers brushing against the petals of a nearby flower. She doesn’t look back, but you can tell she’s listening. “He only says it because he cares,” she says in her usual dreamy tone, glancing toward Aemond with a small, knowing smile. “He’s gentler than he seems.”
Aemond’s gaze flickers to Helaena, his face softening just slightly, though his lips remain in a firm, straight line. He doesn’t deny it, nor does he look away from her. It’s rare to see him so unguarded, but with Helaena, he always seems to allow himself a little more room to be human.
You glance between them, warmth blooming in your chest. “I’m fine, Aemond,” you say softly, your voice more sincere this time. “A little weight is nothing I can’t bear.” Your hand comes to rest on your belly, your fingers gently stroking it. “Besides, I’m not alone in carrying it, am I?”
Aegon squeezes your hand, tilting his head toward you with a grin that’s a little softer than usual. “No, you’re not,” he says simply, his eyes filled with quiet affection.
Aemond watches the exchange in silence, his gaze sharp but thoughtful. He says nothing more, but his attention lingers on you for a moment longer than usual before he looks ahead once more. Perhaps it’s his way of showing he cares — not with words, but with watchful eyes and quiet presence.
The four of you continue walking together, the steady rhythm of your steps blending with the rustle of the leaves and the distant hum of insects. You feel safe here, surrounded by family. Even Aemond, with all his sharp edges, feels like a shield at your side.
“Tell me if you need to rest,” Aemond says quietly, his voice softer now, just loud enough for you to hear. He doesn’t look at you when he says it, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. But you understand him well enough to know that this, too, is his version of kindness.
“I will,” you reply just as softly, your heart warm with quiet gratitude.
You walk a little slower after that, but no one says a word about it. Aemond walks close enough now that his shadow overlaps yours, a silent promise that he will remain by your side, steady as ever.
From a distance, you spot your mother, Alicent, standing at the end of the corridor leading into the garden. Her figure is framed by the soft glow of the sun behind her, her green gown catching the light in a way that makes her seem almost ethereal. Her gaze is fixed on all of you, her eyes warm with quiet affection. There is a softness in her expression — not the queen, but simply a mother watching her children.
As she walks toward you, her steps are slow and measured, her presence calm but commanding as always. Her gaze moves over each of you in turn, taking in Helaena’s soft smile, Aemond’s ever-watchful stare, Aegon’s relaxed posture, and you — her child carrying another life within them. Her eyes linger on you just a moment longer, a gentle, almost wistful look crossing her face.
When she reaches you, she says nothing at first. Instead, she steps closer and places a hand on your belly, her palm warm and firm. Her fingers move in a slow, tender caress, her eyes following the motion as if she can feel the life stirring within you. Her lips curve into a soft smile, her love clear in the gesture.
“You’re doing well,” she says quietly, lifting her gaze to meet yours. Her voice is gentle, the kind of voice only a mother can have when speaking to her child. “You’re strong.”
Her words wrap around you like a cloak of warmth, and you nod, unable to do much else but smile back at her. “I learned from you,” you reply softly, and the look she gives you in return is one of pride, tinged with a hint of sadness.
Alicent turns next to Helaena, cupping her face in both hands with such care, as if afraid she might break. She presses a light kiss to her cheek, lingering just a moment longer than usual. Helaena leans into the touch with a soft hum, her eyes fluttering closed like a butterfly resting on a petal.
“My sweet girl,” Alicent whispers, brushing a strand of silver hair away from Helaena’s face. “I hope you are well today.”
“The butterflies are quiet today,” Helaena replies dreamily, her gaze distant but serene. “They’re just watching.”
Alicent smiles, her brow softening. “Then perhaps they’re giving you a moment of peace,” she says, her hands still resting lightly on Helaena’s cheeks before she finally lets her go.
Her eyes shift to her sons next. She steps forward, her gaze flicking between Aegon and Aemond with that familiar blend of love, exasperation, and expectation that only a mother can manage.
Her eyes settle on Aegon first. She tilts her head, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “You’ve cleaned yourself up, at least,” she says, her tone bordering on teasing but still firm enough to make her point.
Aegon rolls his eyes but grins at her, rubbing the back of his neck. “Can’t have you worrying about me every moment of the day, Mother,” he replies, his voice light and easy.
Her gaze softens, but she raises a brow at him, clearly unconvinced. “I will worry about you for as long as I live, Aegon,” she says simply, her voice unwavering. “That is a mother’s burden.”
He doesn’t reply, but you notice the slight shift in his stance, his smile faltering just a little as he lowers his gaze for a moment. His fingers tighten briefly around yours, a silent acknowledgment of her words.
Then Alicent turns to Aemond, her gaze settling on him with the same care but perhaps a touch more scrutiny. She looks him over carefully, her eyes tracing the sharp lines of his face, the patch over his missing eye, and the stiff posture of his shoulders. She steps closer, tilting her head as if to study him more closely.
“You’re too tense,” she says softly, her eyes filled with quiet concern. “You carry too much on your shoulders, my son.” Her hand reaches up to rest on his arm, and though his posture doesn’t change, you see the subtle shift in his gaze. His eye flickers to her, his lips pressing into a firm line.
“I carry what I must,” he replies, his tone firm but not cold.
Alicent gazes at him for a long moment, her fingers still on his arm. “Even the strongest swords can break,” she says softly. Her words hang in the air, heavy with meaning.
Aemond doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t pull away either. His gaze lowers slightly, his jaw tightening, but he allows her to keep her hand where it is. It’s a small thing, but for Aemond, it means everything.
The moment lingers before Alicent finally steps back, her gaze sweeping over all four of you once more. Her face is calm, but there is a depth of love in her eyes that she does not speak aloud. She clasps her hands in front of her, looking at all of you as if trying to commit the image to memory.
“Stay together,” she says softly, her gaze steady and filled with quiet strength. “If nothing else, promise me you will stay together.”
Her words settle over all of you like a veil of quiet understanding. No one speaks right away, but you feel Aegon’s hand tighten around yours, a silent promise made without words. Helaena gazes at the sky, her lips moving in quiet repetition of something only she can hear. Aemond remains still, his eyes sharp but distant, as if her words have struck a place deep within him.
“We will, Mother,” you say, your voice steady and certain. You glance at each of them in turn — Helaena, Aemond, and Aegon. “We will.”
Alicent nods, her face softening with quiet relief. “Good,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “That is all I ask.”
Your mother, glances at you and Helaena with a soft smile, her eyes filled with quiet affection. “Come,” she says gently, reaching out a hand to each of you. “Join me for tea in my chambers. You’ve been walking long enough, and it will do you both good to rest for a while.”
Helaena tilts her head as if considering the offer, then nods with a small, content smile. “Tea sounds lovely,” she says softly, her gaze following a butterfly as it flutters past. “The butterflies are quiet today. Perhaps they’ll join us too.”
You smile at her, your heart warmed by the innocence of her words. Then you glance at Aegon and Aemond, who are exchanging glances with each other, clearly with different plans in mind.
Aegon tilts his head toward Aemond, his grin sly and full of mischief. “Shall we?” he asks, already turning on his heel.
Aemond raises a brow but doesn’t argue. His gaze shifts to you, observing you carefully before speaking. “We’ll visit the dragons,” he says, his tone even and calm, but there’s a certain edge of excitement there, the same glint in his eye that always appears when he’s thinking of Vhagar. “We won’t be long.”
You narrow your eyes at them both, already sensing the trouble they might stir. Placing a hand on your hip, you glance from Aegon to Aemond with mock seriousness. “Don’t do anything reckless,” you say firmly, your voice carrying the weight of a warning only a wife and sister can give. “I mean it. No wild tricks, no flying too high, and no testing each other’s patience in the air.”
Aegon turns to you with an exaggerated look of shock, his hand pressed to his chest as if you’d wounded him. “Reckless? Me? I’m the picture of caution, love,” he says with a grin so wide it’s clear he’s lying. “I’ll be as gentle as a breeze.”
You raise an unimpressed brow. “A storm breeze, perhaps.”
Aemond says nothing, but you catch the subtle flicker of amusement in his eye. He glances at Helaena for a moment, his face softening just slightly before his gaze shifts back to you. “We’ll be careful,” he says simply, his tone steady but sincere. “I give you my word.”
His promise reassures you far more than Aegon’s theatrics ever could. You nod, letting out a small breath of relief. “Good,” you reply, glancing at both of them. “See that you keep it.”
Aegon chuckles, already backing away toward the path that leads to the dragonpit. “We’ll return in one piece,” he says with a wink, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And maybe, if you’re lucky, I’ll bring you back something pretty.”
You give him a pointed look but say nothing more. Your gaze follows them as they walk away, Aegon’s strides loose and confident while Aemond’s are precise and deliberate. It’s always been like that with them — wildness and control, fire and steel. You shake your head, fondness and exasperation blending in your heart.
“Men and their dragons,” Helaena says softly beside you, her gaze faraway but her words sharp with understanding. “They think they control them, but it is always the other way around.”
You glance at her, surprised by the clarity in her words, but before you can say anything, your mother places a gentle hand on your arm. “Come, my loves,” Alicent says, her voice as soft as silk. “Let them chase their dragons. We have warmth, tea, and quiet waiting for us.”
With a nod, you take your mother’s hand, and together with Helaena, you follow her toward her chambers. The sun filters through the hall’s stained-glass windows, casting hues of green and gold on the stone floors. It feels peaceful here, far from the weight of thrones, dragons, and the burdens of duty.
As you walk, you glance over your shoulder one last time, watching the distant figures of Aegon and Aemond disappear toward the dragonpit. You sigh softly, hoping they’ll remember your words — but knowing them both, you suspect you’ll be hearing wild tales of their “careful” flight soon enough.
With your mother’s steady hand guiding you, you lower yourself carefully into the cushioned chair. Your belly makes the task more cumbersome than it once was, and you exhale deeply as you finally settle into the seat. The soft fabric cradles your back, and you lean into it with a sigh of relief, letting the weight ease from your body.
Your eyes close for a moment, savoring the comfort. The strain in your back lessens, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you allow yourself a moment of stillness. The quiet hum of the room, the distant chirping of birds outside the window, and the familiar scent of lavender all combine to create a perfect, peaceful atmosphere.
A soft laugh breaks that peace, but it’s not unwelcome. You open one eye to see your mother, Alicent, covering her mouth with delicate fingers, her gaze warm and amused. Helaena sits nearby, her own soft giggles bubbling up like a gentle stream. Her eyes are bright with mirth as she tilts her head, watching you with that quiet, knowing gaze she always seems to have.
“You look as though you’ve just conquered a battle,” Alicent says with a fond smile, her eyes crinkling at the corners.
You tilt your head toward her, too tired to do more than give a wry smile. “It feels like I have,” you reply, letting out another long breath. “The weight of victory sits heavily on me.” Your hand rests on your belly, giving it a small, affectionate rub.
Helaena’s giggles grow louder, her fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of her chair. “Victory grows with each day,” she says dreamily, her gaze shifting toward your belly as if she’s watching something only she can see. “Soon, it will shout its arrival to the world, and all will hear it.
Alicent raises her brows at her daughter’s words, though she doesn’t question them. Instead, she steps closer, her gaze softening as she reaches out to brush a lock of hair from your face. Her touch is gentle, her fingers cool against your warm skin.
“You’ve done well to carry them this far,” she says quietly, her voice full of pride and affection. “But you mustn’t bear everything alone. Let others ease the burden when you can.”
You nod, leaning your head back against the chair with a small, content smile. “I know, Mother,” you murmur, your eyes closing once more. “But it’s hard to let go when it feels like it’s mine alone to carry.”
Alicent sighs softly, her hand resting on your shoulder. “It is yours, but that doesn’t mean you must carry it without help,” she says, her voice steady, firm in the way only a mother’s voice can be. “Even queens have hands to hold them up.”
Her words settle into your heart, heavy but warm. You feel the weight of them, just as you feel the weight of your child growing within you. It is a burden, yes, but it is also a blessing. Perhaps, you think, those two things are often one and the same.
Silence falls over the room once more, broken only by the soft rustle of fabric as Helaena shifts in her seat, her fingers tracing invisible patterns in the air. You peek at her from beneath your lashes, watching her lost in her own world. The sunlight catches on her silver hair, making her look almost otherworldly.
“Rest,” Alicent says softly, giving your shoulder a light squeeze. “For as long as you can.”
You hum in agreement, letting your eyes fall shut again. Surrounded by your mother’s warmth and your sister’s quiet presence, you feel safe. You feel loved. And for a while, you let yourself simply exist in that moment of peace.
You open your eyes slowly, gazing at your mother. Her face is serene but lined with quiet worry, a look you have come to recognize as her mask of strength. Her fingers are busy smoothing the fabric of her gown, a habit she’s never been able to break when her thoughts are heavy.
“Mother,” you say softly, your voice low but clear. Her eyes shift to meet yours, and you hesitate for a moment before asking, “How is Father?"
For a brief second, something flickers in her eyes — sorrow, perhaps, or something close to it. She exhales slowly, her gaze dropping to her hands. Her fingers still, clasping together tightly as she sits straighter in her chair.
“His health worsens by the day,” she admits quietly, her voice measured but undeniably tinged with sadness. “He remains in his bedchamber, too weak to rise. The maesters do what they can, but…” She trails off, shaking her head slowly, her lips pressing into a thin line.
You feel a tightness form in your chest, an ache that isn’t unfamiliar but still unwelcome. Your fingers curl gently over your belly, grounding yourself in the feeling of life growing within you.
“He was never… present,” you say, your voice softer now, thoughtful. Your eyes drift toward the window, where the sun filters in, golden and warm. “Not like you were, not like Grandfather.” You pause, letting the quiet between you fill with the unspoken truth. “But he is still my father.”
Alicent lifts her gaze to you then, her eyes glimmering with something you can’t quite name. There is no denial in her face, no attempt to correct your words. She knows them to be true, as you do.
“Yes,” she says softly, her voice carrying a weight of acceptance. “He is still your father.” Her gaze turns distant, her eyes focused on something far away. “He is a good man, though burdened by things beyond his control. He loves in his own way — not always as he should, but he does.”
You look down, running your thumb across the curve of your belly. The thought of Viserys lying in his bed, frail and silent, tugs at you in a way you did not expect. Memories flash in your mind — moments where he was there but distant, moments when his attention was elsewhere, moments when you wondered if he truly saw you at all. And yet, you still care. Because he is still your father.
“Will he… will he meet them?” you ask, your eyes shifting back to Alicent. Your hand presses more firmly against your belly, a silent hope stirring within you. “When they’re born?”
Alicent’s face softens with a tenderness that breaks past the mask of a queen. Her eyes meet yours with quiet understanding, her gaze lingering on your belly with the look of a mother who has carried this same hope before. She leans forward, placing her hand over yours, the warmth of her touch steady and grounding.
“I hope so,” she says, her voice as soft as silk but as strong as steel. “He would want to. If he is able, I will see to it.”
Her promise is gentle but firm, a vow made with the strength of a mother who has borne too much but still finds a way to bear more. You nod slowly, feeling a mixture of comfort and unease. Time is not a kindness, and you both know it.
The silence returns, but it is no longer so heavy. It is a shared understanding, a quiet acceptance of what is and what may be. Alicent’s hand remains over yours, her presence steady and constant, just as it always has been.
You glance at her, offering a small, grateful smile. “Thank you, Mother.”
Her eyes soften as she smiles back, her gaze filled with love. “Always, my dear,” she says, her voice a quiet promise. “Always.”
The warm atmosphere of the room is filled with the soft clinking of teacups and the gentle murmur of conversation. You sit comfortably, leaning back just enough to ease the strain on your back, a hand resting protectively over your growing belly. Helaena sits across from you, quietly humming a tune under her breath, her eyes tracking the slow, drifting flight of a butterfly just outside the window. Alicent sits beside you, her eyes focused on the delicate stitches of her embroidery.
You lift your teacup, the warmth of it seeping into your fingers as you continue to speak, telling your mother and Helaena a story from the gardens earlier in the week. You smile, eyes bright with fondness, your voice carrying the light cheerfulness that often fills moments like this.
But suddenly, it happens.
A sharp, tight pain grips your belly, sudden and fierce, like a cord being pulled too tightly around you. Your breath catches in your throat, the air suddenly too thick to draw in. The pain doesn’t release immediately, instead it lingers, pressing down on you with an unyielding weight.
Your words cut off mid-sentence, your voice faltering into silence. For a moment, no one notices. Helaena is still gazing at the butterfly, her fingers tapping lightly against her teacup. Alicent is focused on the delicate pattern she is stitching, her brow furrowed in concentration.
But then, the porcelain slips from your fingers.
The cup falls from your hand, hitting the edge of the table before shattering against the stone floor below. The sharp crack of the porcelain shattering echoes through the room, cutting through the gentle quiet like a sword through silk.
“Darling?” Alicent’s voice is sharp, urgent. Her embroidery is forgotten as her eyes snap to you, wide with concern. Her chair scrapes against the floor as she moves to your side.
You barely hear her. Your breath comes in shallow pants as your hands fly to your belly, fingers pressing against the fabric of your gown as if trying to soothe the sharp ache beneath. Your heart pounds in your chest, faster than it should, and for a moment, fear coils tightly in your mind.
“Something’s wrong,” you breathe, your voice strained and quiet. Your eyes dart to Alicent, wide and uncertain. “Mother, something’s—”
Alicent is already at your side, her hands firm but gentle as she grips your shoulders, grounding you with her presence. “Breathe, sweet girl,” she says firmly, though her eyes are wide with worry. “Look at me. Breathe. Slowly now.”
Helaena rises from her chair, her movements slower but no less filled with purpose. Her eyes aren’t filled with panic like your mother’s — no, hers are distant but aware. She steps forward, tilting her head slightly, her gaze falling on your belly. Her fingers twitch at her sides, and she murmurs, so softly it’s almost to herself, “The storm presses before the dawn… but it will pass.”
Her words do little to calm the growing thrum of worry in your chest. Your breathing is shallow as you press a hand harder against your belly, hoping, praying, that the pain will fade. Your heart races as the ache slowly begins to ease, but it leaves you shaken. Your breaths come quicker than before, and Alicent kneels before you, her hands cupping your face to make you look at her.
“Is it still there?” she asks, her eyes searching yours with the precision of a mother who has lived through this before. “The pain — is it still there?”
You shake your head slowly, swallowing hard before you answer. “No,” you whisper, voice still tight with lingering fear. “It’s… it’s easing now.” Your breath shudders as you exhale, tears threatening to rise in your eyes. “But it was strong, Mother. It was so strong.”
Alicent’s lips press into a firm line, her eyes scanning your face as her hand moves down to your belly. Her fingers press gently against it, her movements careful but thorough. Her gaze sharpens with quiet focus, and for a moment, she is not simply your mother but the queen, the one who must remain calm when others falter.
“Likely a cramp,” she says softly but firmly, glancing up at you. “It can happen as you grow heavier, especially with how far along you are.” She squeezes your hand, her eyes steady as she adds, “But we won’t take risks. I’ll send for the maester.”
Helaena kneels beside you, her eyes still faraway but her hands gentle as she takes yours into her own. Her fingers are cool to the touch, her presence a soothing balm to the fear still lingering in your heart. She tilts her head, her gaze distant but kind.
“Safe,” she says softly, her gaze flickering to your belly before rising to meet your eyes. “You are safe, and so are they.”
Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, a mix of relief and exhaustion washing over you. You nod slowly, leaning back into the chair once more, letting the tension leave your body with every slow breath you take.
“Yes,” you whisper, more to yourself than to them. “Safe.”
But as Alicent calls for the maester and Helaena stays close by your side, you can’t help but feel the weight of uncertainty pressing on you. The ache may have passed, but the memory of it still lingers, a shadow at the edge of your mind. You press a hand to your belly again, feeling the warmth of life beneath your palm.
“Stay with me,” you whisper quietly to the child growing within you. “Please… stay with me.”
The pain returns with a vengeance, sharper and more relentless than before. It claws its way through your belly, pulling a scream from your lips that echoes through the room. Your body tenses as if every muscle is fighting against the force bearing down on you. Your breaths come in short, frantic gasps, and panic surges in your chest like a rising tide.
“Mother!” you cry out, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear and pain. Your hands clutch your belly, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of your gown. Sweat beads on your brow, rolling down your temples as heat floods your body. “Mother, please!”
Alicent is already at your side. Her hands are steady as she cups your face, her eyes sharp with focus but filled with unwavering love. “I’m here, I’m here,” she says firmly, her voice cutting through the fog of pain like a guiding light. Her hand moves to your back, supporting you as she leans in close. “Breathe, sweet girl. Look at me. Breathe.”
Her words anchor you, but it’s so hard to focus on anything but the searing ache that grips you. You try to follow her command, gasping in short, uneven breaths before forcing a deeper one. The air feels thick and heavy in your lungs, but you manage to draw it in, then out. In. Out. Just as she says.
Footsteps echo down the corridor, fast and urgent. The door swings open, and the maester enters with two midwives at his side. Their expressions are grim but purposeful. They’ve seen this before. They know what to do.
“Lay her down,” the maester commands, his voice calm but firm. The midwives move quickly, clearing space on the large bed. Alicent and Helaena help you rise from the chair, their hands steady and sure. Your legs feel like they might give out, but they don’t let you fall.
The moment you lie back on the bed, the pain crashes down again. Another scream tears from your throat as you grip the sheets beneath you, your body arching as the pressure builds. Your heart races, panic mixing with the overwhelming pain, but Alicent is there. Her hands grip yours tightly, her gaze locked onto yours.
“Look at me,” she says, her voice unwavering even as her eyes shine with worry. “You’re strong. You can do this. Breathe, darling. Just breathe.”
Tears prick your eyes as you try to listen to her, nodding weakly through the haze of agony. The maester presses a hand gently to your belly, his eyes narrowing with practiced precision.
“It is time,” he says, his gaze flicking to Alicent before returning to you. “The child is coming now. We must act quickly.”
“No,” you whisper, your voice hoarse with strain. “No, it’s too soon—”
“It’s happening now, my lady,” the maester says firmly but not unkindly. “There is no stopping it. You must be brave.”
Terror wells up in your chest, but Alicent grips your face gently, her eyes filled with fierce determination. “You are brave,” she tells you, her voice like steel wrapped in silk. “You were born to do this. I’m right here. I will not leave you.”
Helaena kneels by your other side, her distant, dreamlike gaze now clearer than before. Her eyes settle on you with surprising clarity. “A new song,” she murmurs, brushing a cool hand over your sweat-dampened brow. “It will be loud, but it will be beautiful.”
Her words bring you a small, flickering spark of calm, but it’s brief. The next contraction pulls a broken sob from your chest as you twist in pain. Your world narrows to nothing but the ache, the weight, and the unyielding pressure that refuses to ease.
“Push when you feel it,” the maester instructs. His voice is steady but insistent. “When the pain crests, you push. Do you understand?”
You nod weakly, your breath coming fast and shallow. Alicent’s fingers intertwine with yours, grounding you in the present. Her grip is strong, firm, and unwavering.
“You can do this,” she whispers, her voice close to your ear. “Push, my love. Push with everything you have."
The next wave of pain crashes over you, fiercer than anything you’ve ever known. You grit your teeth, crying out as you bear down with every ounce of strength left in you. Your whole body trembles from the effort, your breaths ragged and wild, but you push. You push because there is no other choice. You push because life demands it.
The room fills with the sounds of your labor — the grunts, the cries, the gasps for air. Alicent’s voice never wavers, her steady encouragement a thread that guides you through the storm. Helaena hums softly beside you, her quiet, lilting melody oddly soothing in the chaos.
Time becomes meaningless. Minutes, hours — you can’t tell the difference. All you know is the pain, the push, the desperate need to bring life into the world. Sweat drips from your brow, your body shaking with exhaustion. You feel like you have nothing left to give. But then—
“I see the head,” the maester says suddenly, his tone sharp with urgency. “Just one more push, my lady. One more, and they will be here.”
Your heart leaps, tears streaming down your face. You feel Alicent squeeze your hand tighter, her face inches from yours, her eyes fierce with pride.
“One more,” she says, her voice trembling with emotion. “Just one more. You can do this. You will do this.”
You nod, teeth clenched, every muscle in your body coiling like a spring. And with a guttural cry that shakes the very air around you, you give one final, desperate push. It feels like you are being torn apart, but then—
A sound.
A cry.
A sharp, piercing wail fills the room, cutting through the air like the first song of dawn. It’s high and loud, strong and alive. For a moment, all the pain fades into nothing. Your whole world stops, your breath catching in your chest. Tears fall freely down your face as you hear it.
The baby is crying.
“Well done, my lady,” the maester says softly, his hands cradling the tiny, wriggling child. “It’s a boy.”
Your chest shudders with a sob of relief, of joy, of exhaustion. You slump back against the pillows, your whole body weak and trembling. Your heart is so full it feels like it might burst.
The baby’s cry continues, strong and insistent, and moments later, he is placed in your arms. He is so small, so warm, his silver hair damp from the effort of entering the world. His eyes are squeezed shut as he wails, his tiny fists curling and uncurling in the air.
You gaze down at him, tears spilling from your eyes as you press a kiss to his forehead. “Hello, my love,” you whisper, your voice cracking with emotion. “You’re here. You’re finally here.”
Alicent presses a kiss to the top of your head, her eyes shining with tears. “You did it,” she says, pride and love pouring from every word. “You did it, my darling girl.”
Helaena smiles softly, her gaze faraway once more. “His song is bright,” she murmurs, her voice quiet but certain. “A light in the storm.”
The maester remains close, his hands still working, his voice calling for the midwives to be ready for the afterbirth. But none of it matters. Not right now.
All you can see is your son. His tiny face scrunched in a cry, his little fingers curling toward you like he already knows you. Your heart swells with love so fierce it nearly undoes you. You press another kiss to his head, breathing him in, memorizing every inch of him.
“You’re safe,” you whisper, your voice thick with love. “You’re safe, little one. I’m here. I’m here.”
And for a moment, everything is still. The pain is gone. The world outside doesn’t exist. It’s just you and him.
Your son.
The moment of peace is shattered as the pain returns, sharper and more intense than before. It steals the breath from your lungs, and your body tenses involuntarily. Your arms tighten around your newborn son, but the pain is too much — too sudden, too strong. You let out a choked gasp, your eyes wide with panic.
“Mother,” you rasp, your voice laced with both fear and disbelief. “Mother, it’s happening again—”
Alicent’s eyes snap to you, her face shifting from joy to alarm in an instant. She moves swiftly, her hands reaching for you. “Give him to me,” she says urgently but gently, her eyes locked on yours. “Give him to me, sweet girl. You need your strength.”
With shaking hands, you lift your son toward her, tears spilling down your cheeks. You press a kiss to his soft head before letting him go. The moment her arms take him, you feel the weight shift, but the pain does not ease.
“Maester!” Alicent calls sharply, her voice commanding and fierce. She cradles the baby close to her chest, swaying ever so slightly to soothe his cries. Her eyes are wild with concern as she looks from you to the maester.
The maester is already at your side, his face grim as he presses a hand against your belly. His eyes narrow in concentration, his mouth set in a firm line. His hands move with experienced precision, and for a heartbeat, the room falls silent save for the soft, fretful cries of your newborn son.
“You are carrying twins, my lady,” the maester says, his voice low but clear. His gaze meets yours, calm but firm. “There is another child yet to be born.”
The world spins. Your heart lurches in your chest as you stare at him, wide-eyed with shock. “What?” you breathe, the word barely more than a whisper. “No… no, I would have known.”
“It is rare, but it happens,” the maester says steadily. “But the child is coming now, and there is no time to waste.”
Tears blur your vision as a sob rises in your throat. Another child. Another child is coming. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps, and you shake your head as if denying it will make it untrue. “No, no, no,” you cry, your hands clutching at the sheets beneath you. “Aegon. I need Aegon. Please — I need him here!”
Your gaze snaps to your mother, desperate and pleading. “Bring him back, Mother. Please.” Your voice cracks with the weight of it, raw with pain and fear. “I need him here. Please bring him back.”
Alicent’s face crumples with anguish. She hands the baby to one of the midwives with quick, careful hands, then rushes to your side. She kneels by you, cupping your face with both hands, her eyes swimming with emotion.
“I know, my sweet girl. I know,” she says, her voice trembling with barely contained sorrow. Her fingers stroke your damp hair away from your face, her forehead nearly pressed to yours. “But he’s still in the skies, riding Sunfyre. I sent a messenger, but he may not hear the call in time.”
Your heart twists in your chest, grief and fear mingling with the agony that wracks your body. You can barely think through the haze of pain. You feel as though you are being pulled apart from the inside, your body no longer your own.
“I need him,” you sob, your voice broken, raw, and filled with longing. “I need him here, Mother.”
Alicent presses her forehead to yours, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. Her grip on you tightens, her hands steady despite the trembling of her breath.
“You have me,” she whispers fiercely, her voice filled with the same strength she used when you were a child frightened by the storm. “You have me, and I will not leave you. You hear me? You are not alone. I’m here. I’m right here.”
Her voice cuts through the fog of fear, grounding you in the present. The next wave of pain strikes, and you cry out, your hands gripping Alicent’s arms with all the strength you can muster. She doesn’t flinch, holding you as steady as stone. Her presence is unyielding, a wall against the storm.
“Push, sweet girl,” she urges you, her voice low but firm. “You’ve done this once already. You can do it again. Push, and you will hold them both in your arms.”
Her words are a lifeline. You nod weakly, tears still streaming down your face. Your heart still aches for Aegon — for the warmth of his voice, his hand on yours, his whispered promises. But he is not here. Not now. And so you grip your mother’s arms like a lifeline and face the storm alone.
“Push,” the maester commands from below, his hands ready once more. “With the next pain, my lady, push as you did before.
You nod again, your breaths sharp and shallow. Alicent’s voice comes close to your ear, soft but unyielding.
“You are my daughter,” she says, her voice filled with fire and love. “You are stronger than you know. You will bring them into this world, and I will be here every step of the way.”
With a cry of pain and raw determination, you push.
Your body feels like it has been wrung dry of every last ounce of strength. Your breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps, each one a battle to draw in air. Every muscle aches, and your limbs feel heavier than stone. Your vision blurs with exhaustion and tears, but through it all, you hear it — the sound that makes it all worth it.
A cry. Sharp, loud, and strong.
The moment you hear it, a sob bursts from your chest, your body shaking as relief washes over you like a crashing wave. Tears stream down your face, mingling with the sweat on your brow. It’s over. It’s finally over.
“She’s here,” the maester says, his voice filled with quiet triumph. “A girl, my lady. A strong, healthy girl.”
Alicent releases a shaky breath beside you, her face crumpling with overwhelming relief. Her hands, still holding yours, squeeze tightly, her fingers trembling against your skin. She lets out a soft, broken laugh, her eyes filled with pride and love.
“You did it,” she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. “You did it, my brave girl.”
Your head lolls to the side, your body so heavy you can hardly move. You blink slowly, trying to clear your vision, trying to see her — your daughter. The maester wraps the small, squirming bundle in soft cloth before placing her in Alicent’s waiting arms.
Alicent gazes down at the child with wonder, her face soft and radiant in the glow of the moment. She sways gently, rocking the baby as she steps closer to you. Her eyes, still brimming with tears, turn to you with a look of such deep pride that it nearly undoes you.
“Look at her,” she says softly, her voice trembling with awe. She kneels beside the bed and holds the baby out to you. “Look at your daughter, my love.
With the last remnants of your strength, you lift your arms, hands shaking with exhaustion. Alicent carefully places the baby in your arms, adjusting the blankets to keep her warm. The moment you feel her weight against your chest, your heart swells so fiercely it feels like it might break.
She’s so small. Her tiny face is flushed pink, her eyes shut tight as she lets out a wailing cry. Her silver hair, damp and soft, clings to her head, a perfect mirror of your own Targaryen heritage. Her little fists wave in the air, so full of life, so full of fight.
Tears blur your vision once more as you stare down at her, overwhelmed by a love so powerful it feels like it could break you. Your fingers brush over her cheek, and her skin is so soft, so warm. She hiccups mid-cry, her tiny lips quivering before settling into quiet whimpers. Her whole body fits against you like she was always meant to be there.
“Hello, sweet girl,” you whisper, your voice raw but filled with so much love it aches. You press your lips to her soft head, inhaling the delicate, sweet scent of new life. “You’re here. You’re finally here.”
Your tears drip onto her blanket, and you don’t bother to wipe them away. They’re tears of relief. Of joy. Of love. Your heart, already so full from your son’s birth, somehow makes room for her as well. It feels as though it might burst from how much you love them both.
Alicent’s hand rests on your head, her fingers threading gently through your damp hair. She leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, her lips warm and soft. Her breath is warm against your skin as she whispers, “You’ve done something extraordinary, my sweet girl. You are a mother twice over now.”
Her words wash over you like sunlight after a storm. You close your eyes, letting the warmth of them fill you from head to toe. Her fingers trail down to brush against your cheek, gentle as a breeze.
“You are so strong,” Alicent says, her voice thick with emotion. “Stronger than I ever was.”
You let out a soft, broken laugh, too exhausted to do more. Your head rests against the pillow, your eyes fluttering closed for just a moment. The warmth of your daughter against your chest, the gentle weight of her, is the only thing keeping you anchored to the present.
“She’s perfect,” you whisper, your voice no more than a breath. “They’re both perfect.”
“Yes, they are,” Alicent replies, her voice full of love and pride. She smooths a hand over your hair again, her fingers cool against your burning skin. “Rest now, sweet girl. You’ve done enough. Rest.”
You nod weakly, still gazing down at your daughter. Her tiny eyes peek open for the briefest moment, and you see them — a soft shade of violet, clear and bright like amethysts. You press another kiss to her forehead, letting your lips linger there.
“Welcome to the world, little one,” you whisper, your voice heavy with love. “I will love you for all my days.”
The weight of exhaustion pulls at you, your body too spent to fight it. Your eyes grow heavy, and slowly, slowly, they close. You can still hear the gentle coos of your daughter and the soft hum of your mother’s voice as she soothes you both.
The world fades into warmth, love, and the knowledge that you have brought two lives into it. And as you slip into the quiet, you know that, somehow, everything will be alright.
The heavy thud of hurried footsteps echoes through the chamber. The door swings open with a force that makes it shudder against the wall. Aegon stands there, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his silver hair disheveled from flight, still damp with sweat from the heat of Sunfyre’s back. His violet eyes are wild, darting around the room in search of you.
“Aegon,” Alicent says softly, turning her head toward him. She stands by your bedside, her arms cradling your newborn son against her chest. Her expression is one of quiet relief as she sees him. “You’re here.”
His gaze locks onto you, and his eyes soften with something raw and unspoken. Without a word, he strides forward, his steps quick but careful. His eyes scan every inch of you, taking in the sight of you lying on the bed, your face pale, your hair damp with sweat, your chest rising and falling slowly as you sleep. The exhaustion is clear on your face, but there is peace too.
He stops at the side of the bed, his breath still uneven from the rush to get here. His hand reaches out, fingers trembling slightly as he brushes your cheek. The warmth of his touch pulls you from the edge of sleep. Slowly, your eyes flutter open. For a moment, it takes you a second to realize who it is, but when you do, a soft smile pulls at your lips.
“Aegon,” you murmur, your voice weak but filled with so much love it makes his throat tighten.
“I’m here,” he says, his voice low and hoarse. His thumb strokes your cheek, his gaze never leaving yours. “I’m here now.”
Tears shimmer in his eyes, but he blinks them away, his jaw tightening as he tries to steady himself. His gaze shifts for a moment to the small bundle in Alicent’s arms. Slowly, he looks back at you, confusion and wonder mingling on his face.
“Twins?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loud will break the fragile magic of the moment.
You nod slowly, still gazing at him, your eyes filled with exhaustion but also pride. “A boy and a girl,” you whisper, tilting your head just enough to glance toward the small crib beside the bed where your daughter lies peacefully, swaddled in soft blankets.
Aegon follows your gaze. His eyes land on the tiny, sleeping form of his daughter. His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he doesn’t move. He stares as if the world has stopped, as if nothing else exists but that little girl lying there. His face shifts — shock, awe, disbelief, and then something far deeper.
He steps away from you, moving toward the crib with slow, cautious steps. His eyes are wide, unblinking, as if he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he looks away. When he reaches the crib, he leans down, his breath shallow as he stares at her face. Her tiny mouth opens in a soft yawn, her little hands curling against the blankets.
“She’s so small,” he murmurs, his voice cracking. His fingers hover over her head, hesitant to touch, as if he fears he might hurt her. But slowly, carefully, he brushes a single finger against her cheek. She’s warm, so warm, and soft like nothing he’s ever felt before.
His breath shudders, and he presses his lips into a thin line to keep his emotions in check. But his shoulders shake once, and he releases a breath that sounds suspiciously like a sob. He presses a hand over his mouth, his eyes red-rimmed as he stares at her, overcome with something too big to name.
“She’s perfect,” he whispers, his voice filled with reverence. “She’s… she’s perfect.”
He stays there for a moment longer, just gazing at her as though he could memorize every inch of her face in that instant. Then, he pulls himself away, turning back to you. His eyes are glassy, his cheeks damp, but he doesn’t care. His gaze shifts to the small bundle in Alicent’s arms. His son. His heir.
Alicent’s face softens as she looks at him. Her eyes are filled with understanding and love as she steps forward, tilting the child in her arms so Aegon can see him fully. His face is red with the aftershock of crying, his small fists waving in the air as if trying to fight off the world itself. His silver hair is messy atop his head, so much like Aegon’s own when he was born.
“Your son,” Alicent says gently, her voice thick with pride. She steps closer, lifting him toward Aegon. “Hold him, Aegon.”
He freezes for a moment, his eyes darting from his mother’s face to his son’s, panic flickering behind his gaze. “I— I don’t know if I can,” he says, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper. His hands flex nervously at his sides. “He’s so small. I—”
“You can,” Alicent cuts in softly but firmly, her eyes meeting his with all the quiet strength of a mother who has done this before. “You must.”
Aegon’s throat bobs as he swallows thickly. Slowly, he reaches out his arms. Alicent carefully places the baby into his hands, guiding him until the small bundle is secure in his arms. The moment Aegon feels that little weight against his chest, everything else falls away. The panic, the doubt, the fear — it all vanishes.
His son shifts, letting out a small, sleepy sigh as he nuzzles into Aegon’s chest. Aegon lets out a shaky breath, his arms tightening just a little as he cradles him closer. His heart thuds painfully in his chest, so full it feels like it might burst.
“Hey, little one,” Aegon whispers, his voice barely more than a breath. His lips curl into a trembling smile, his eyes locked on the baby’s face. “It’s me. I’m your father.”
The words feel strange and sacred on his tongue. Father. He’s a father. He lets out a soft, breathy laugh, his forehead pressing against the baby’s head, breathing him in. “I’m here now,” he whispers, closing his eyes for a moment. “I’m here, and I’ll never leave.”
He turns his head slowly, looking at you. His gaze is soft, his face raw with every emotion he’s ever tried to hide. There’s no mask now. No armor. Just him — just Aegon, looking at you like you’ve hung the stars in the sky.
“Thank you,” he says, his voice barely holding steady. He looks at you like you’ve given him the whole world. “Thank you for them. For… for everything.”
Tears well up in your eyes again, but you laugh softly, too tired to speak much. “Don’t thank me,” you say, your voice weak but full of love. “They’re yours too, Aegon.”
He stares at you for a moment longer, then sits on the edge of the bed, his son still cradled in his arms. He shifts closer, close enough to press a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there for a long, quiet moment.
“Rest,” he whispers against your skin, his voice so gentle it almost breaks you. “I’ll stay with you. I’m not going anywhere.”
You nod, eyes closing once more, the warmth of his presence grounding you. You hear him humming softly, a quiet, soothing melody that lulls you into rest.
The last thing you feel is the warmth of his body pressed close to yours, the soft weight of your daughter at your side, and the steady rhythm of Aegon’s quiet song filling the air.
And for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel safe. Truly safe.
The soft creak of the door opening pulls you from the haze of sleep. Your eyes flutter open slowly, your body still heavy with exhaustion but your mind already attuned to the sounds of the room. The quiet murmur of voices reaches your ears, familiar voices filled with warmth and curiosity.
You blink a few times, adjusting to the dim glow of the chamber. The sight that greets you makes your heart swell. Aegon is seated beside you on the bed, his back resting against the headboard, his gaze fixed intently on the two small bundles resting in his arms. His face is softer than you’ve ever seen it — calm, content, and utterly unguarded. The flickering firelight dances across his silver hair, and his violet eyes are filled with a tenderness that he so rarely shows.
He notices you stirring and glances down at you, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Look who’s finally awake,” he says softly, his voice full of affection.
Before you can reply, more movement draws your attention to the door. Helaena and Aemond step into the room, followed closely by your mother, Alicent. Helaena’s face lights up with a smile the moment she sees you, her eyes wide with excitement. She clasps her hands together, eyes flicking to the bundles in Aegon’s arms.
“You’re awake!” Helaena says brightly as she approaches. Her gaze is filled with wonder as she peeks over Aegon’s shoulder to get a better look at the twins. “Oh, they’re so tiny,” she whispers, her eyes filled with awe. She crouches slightly, tilting her head as if to get a better view. “They’re perfect.”
Aemond walks in with his usual measured grace, his eye cool but attentive as he surveys the scene. His gaze lands on you for a moment, his expression unreadable, but his lips twitch in the faintest hint of a smile. His eye shifts to the children in Aegon’s arms, and he tilts his head, his gaze thoughtful.
“They’re strong,” he says simply, his voice low but firm. “They’ll grow to be fierce.”
Your mother steps forward, her eyes soft with maternal pride and love. She kneels at your bedside, her hand immediately reaching out to smooth the damp hair from your face. Her eyes, so filled with love, meet yours.
“How are you feeling, my love?” Alicent asks quietly, her voice full of concern. “You were so strong through it all.”
“I’m tired,” you admit, giving her a small smile, “but happy.” Your gaze shifts to Aegon, who is still staring at your children like they are the only things that matter in this world.
Alicent glances over her shoulder at them, her face filled with the same quiet joy. Her eyes flick back to you, a knowing look in her gaze. “Have you chosen names for them yet?” she asks, tilting her head in curiosity.
Helaena perks up at the question, leaning forward with an eager smile. “Yes, yes! Have you? I’ve been wondering what names you would give them.”
Aegon glances at you, and you can see the unspoken question in his eyes. This was a decision the two of you had discussed before but never finalized. But now, in this moment, it feels clear. The names feel right, as if they had been waiting all along for this moment.
You glance at him, nodding slowly, and he mirrors your smile.
“Our son will be named Jaehaerys,” you say softly, your eyes flicking to the boy cradled in Aegon’s right arm. His little face is scrunched in sleep, his silver hair sticking up in messy tufts. “For strength and wisdom.
Aegon nods, his lips twitching with approval. His gaze shifts to his daughter, his eyes warm with a quiet reverence. “And our daughter will be Jaehaera,” he says, his voice thick with affection. He glances at you, his gaze unwavering. “For her grace and fire.”
Helaena gasps softly, her eyes bright with joy. “Jaehaerys and Jaehaera,” she repeats, her smile wide. “They sound like they belong in a song. Such strong names for such precious children.” She leans closer to the crib where Jaehaera sleeps peacefully. “She will be a dreamer, I think,” Helana says softly, her eyes distant but full of certainty. “Yes, a dreamer.”
Aemond raises a brow at that but says nothing. His gaze remains on the twins, his eyes sharp as if trying to read something in their faces.
Alicent breathes out a soft sigh, her smile growing wider. “They are beautiful names,” she says, brushing her hand over your hair once more. “Names worthy of them.” She looks up at Aegon, pride shining in her gaze. “You have a fine family, my son.”
Aegon shifts his gaze to his mother, his lips pressing into a firm line as he nods once. “Yes,” he says quietly, his eyes returning to the two small faces in his arms. His voice grows even softer. “I do.”
His eyes flick back to you, and he leans forward, his brow resting gently against yours. For a moment, it is just the two of you, breathing the same air, sharing the same quiet, overwhelming love for the family you’ve built together.
“Jaehaerys and Jaehaera,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet reverence. “Our little dragons.”
Tag list : @danytar @julessworldd @yazzzmints @hangmanscoming @giirlinblack
#aegon ii targaryen#hotd imagine#hotd aemond#prince aegon targaryen#aemond targaryen#hotd one shot#aegon ii fanfic#hotd x reader#aegon x reader#hotd#aegon fanfic#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#prince aemond#heleana targaryen#hotd alicent#hotd fanfic
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It would be a little unconventional
Summary: Aegon and (Y/n) just married. No one has seen them in the last four days. But that doesn't change the fact that half the castle can hear what they're doing.
Word count: 1.309
Autors note: a bit subby Aegon, anal fingering, well... smut as you may have guessed
"How long has it been since anyone's seen them?", Daemon asked the group, bored.
Rhaenyra smirked. Alicent killed her wine goblet with a look. Jaecerys surprisingly joined Alicent and cut his flesh with more force than necessary.
"Daemon." Rhaenyra rebuked him, still smirking.
He was not impressed. "When was the last time you saw them?", he asked her directly.
She rolled her eyes. "At the wedding.", she replied curtly.
"Which was four days ago.", he added just as curtly.
"Princess, perhaps you should-"
The door to the dining room opened. All eyes shot to (y/n) like moths to a flame.
"Is that your night gown?" Jaecerys asked his sister in shock.
"Yes.", (Y/n) said curtly and immediately grabbed various dishes from the table. She threw a handful of bread rolls onto the plate of fruit, which she simply took and immediately reached for a carafe of wine.
"You can't walk around-"
(Y/n) immediately interrupted her brother. "I'm already off again. Just relax. By the gods."
"Where's Aegon?", asked Alicent.
(Y/n) smiled. "He's asleep."
"At such an early hour?"
"He was tired." (Y/n) shrugged and pressed the carafe of wine into the hand of the member of the Kingsguard who had been following her until just now.
"Long night?", Daemon grinned.
(Y/n) grinned. "It seemed rather short lived to me."
Jaecery's glass shattered in his hand, his grip was so firm.
With that, (Y/n) simply turned round again and motioned to the man from the Kingsguard to follow her. He complied, overwhelmed.
Aemond watched with satisfaction as Jaecerys and Lucerys shoved their food back into themselves with an angry look. "Be glad you can't hear them.", he said to his nephews, sounding bored. "Whorehouses sound more chaste than those two."
Jaecerys leapt across the table towards him.
"Aegon?" she whispered, jerking his shoulder slightly.
"Ngh.", he sighed and curled up, pulling the blanket tighter around him.
"I got something to eat."
A snore was her reply.
She sighed. Had she overdone it? Was it too much for him? He liked sex. She knew that. She liked sex. They had sex. A lot of sex... Mainly because of her. And she wanted to do it again. Was she overwhelming him? Him? Aegon II Targaryen, who had spent his entire adolescence shagging his way through every brothel he could find?
She looked at his sleeping face. How could he look so innocent after what they'd both been doing for the last four days?
She poured herself a cup of wine and sat down in the armchair in the room.
The last few days had been wonderful and exciting. They had tried each other out before the wedding, but had always been careful not to risk pregnancy. They hadn't gone all the way. They also had to meet in secret. They had to be quiet. But now. Now they weren't holding back. And by the gods she would do anything to hear the sounds he was making. Those little sighs. The whimpers. The high clear moans when he was about to come. His eyes. Watery and so big as they looked up at her. He didn't want to believe that she had already read a thing or two.
That she wasn't completely ignorant. She was sure he wouldn't question her creativity again.
She sipped her wine and gazed into the fire of the flickering fireplace.
But perhaps she was really overdoing it. Everyone always made fun of how much lust Aegon had indulged in over the years. But she understood. Would people make fun of her too?
She heard the blanket rustle. She turned her face towards the bed. Aegon sat up, his face scrunched up. He rubbed his eyes. His hair was sticking up wildly from his head. Irritated, he looked around, then his gaze landed on her. "What are you doing?", he asked, pouting slightly and still sounding sleepy.
She looked at her glass. "I'm drinking wine." ,she explained simply.
Aegon pouted more. "What are you doing in that armchair? Come here!", he whined.
She grinned awkwardly. "I just thought you might want a break.", she mumbled.
Aegon furrowed his eyebrows in irritation. "From what?"
"Well..." she pointed vaguely at the bed. "From me-"
"If I want a break from fucking my wife, or letting her fuck me,", he winked at her, "I'll let you know."
She smiled awkwardly. "It's not too much?"
He shook his head with a smile. "If anything, I've got a few books and we'll try everything I found in there."
She grinned. Playfully, she stood up. "Anything you want to start with?"
Aegon smiled. "It would be a little unconventional.", he purred.
He gripped her hips as she settled on his lap.
"Tell me about it.", she whispered and kissed his neck softly.
His breath trembled. "There's a contraption. A harness and... hmmm... and a fake phallus. You could take me with that. Fuck me."
"And that's good for you?"
"I never come harder."
"Explain it to me.", she sighed against his neck.
Aegon reached out to take her hand. Without hesitation, he took two of her fingers in his mouth. One would almost think, he wanted to blow her fingers, licking over her tender skin with such fervour.
"Fuck.", she sighed. His eyes were glassy and so wonderfully veiled.
Aegon released her fingers and lay on his back. She moved beneath him. He quickly shoved one of the pillows under his bum and spread his legs. "And now-", he placed her fingers at his opening. His breathing was shaky. "Start with one finger. Push upwards. There... fuck... there's a point... Ha."
He dropped his head powerlessly into the pillows as she slowly slid her finger inside him. "Like this?"
"Yes! Fuck yes!"
She pressed in further. Watched his face. The crease between his eyebrows. The closed eyes. The slightly open mouth.
"Add the second one. But slowly."
She complied with his request. "Does it hurt?"
He shook his head. "It only stings at first. It's better with oil."
She grinned. "Do you do that to yourself?", she whispered against his ear.
He grinned. "As often as I can."
She grinned. "You like it?"
He nodded quickly. "Move your fingers. Like you're fucking me."
She withdrew her fingers and pushed them back in. Aegon sighed happily.
"You were talking about a point."
He nodded. "Further in. That's right. Press your fingertips upwards. A little to the right. Ah, right there! Oh fuck. Fuck!"
She drew little circles over the spongy spot. "Like this?"
Aegon groaned, whimpering. "Yes.", he whimpered. "Faster. Please. AH!"
She complied with his request. She started kissing his neck again. Caressed his skin. "Can you come just like that?"
Aegon simply nodded. Unable to speak. The sight made her feel the heat between her legs. She felt the wetness. He lay decadently in front of her and she savoured the sight of him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, FUCK!" Aegon's semen shot all over his chest and down to his chin. Even (Y/n's) cheek was not spared.
His body tensed. It felt like his insides wanted to break her fingers.
He drove his ass towards her fingers like a madman. Much longer than usual, he floated in ecstasy before his body collapsed.
He lay there, beaten and unable to move.
"Holy mother.", he sighed.
(Y/n) giggled. She kissed his cheeks. She playfully rubbed her nose against the shell of his ear. "I don't think I've ever been so wet.", she whispered.
Aegon's body trembled. He smiled slightly.
"I can't move a muscle, but... If you want a repeat of last night...", he grinned mischievously at her.
She bit her lip. She positioned her thighs next to his head.
"But tell me if I get too heavy.", she smirked.
"I'd die a happy man," he grinned.
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen x you#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#aegon fanfic#aegon the second#hotd fanfic#hotd#aegon x reader#hotd aegon#aegon smut
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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.
#aegon ii targaryen#aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon x reader#hotd fanfic#modern!hotd#modern!aegon targaryen#aegon targaryen x niece!reader#tom glynn carney#aegon ii x you#aegon ii x reader#aegon fanfic#aegon x strong!reader#aegon ii oneshot#modern!aegon#modern!aegon ii#aegon ii#hotd#king aegon
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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
#house of the dragon#hotd smut#aegon targaryen x you#aegon targaryen x reader#aegon targaryen#hotd aegon#aegon smut#aegon fanfic
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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.
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My commission by @trupniy
Aegon x twin OC, Aemond x niece OC
#house of the dragon#asoiaf#hotd art#aegon ii targaryen#aegon ii#aegon x oc#aegon targaryen#hotd#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#aemond fic#aemond targaryen#aegon fanfic#aemond x oc#team green
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