#aegon ii targaryen x velaryon!oc

[viiisenyas]

Prologue: Made of Fire and Water

Series Summary: As the firstborn child to Ser Laenor Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra, most believed that Elaena would succeed King Viserys’ chosen heir. But after her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named in her stead, the rumours amidst the royal court began to grow regarding her mother’s integrity. Years later, the whispers would not leave, and Elaena would find herself placed in a strategic match with Prince Aegon to placate her mother’s enemies. Little did she know, she had already become a pawn for the political game, and she would become the hidden advantage for the Greens.

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Elaena Velaryon (OC) Series Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI !!) Series Warnings: arranged marriage, canon divergence, smut, suicidal ideation, alcohol abuse, canon-typical incest, death, obsessive behaviour, dubious consent, graphic violence, sexual harassment, enemies to lovers Credits: Divider from here. A/N: This series begins at Episode 6. For narrative purposes, I've aged up some of the characters. This work is also Team Green positive. If you don't like it, keep scrolling.

[Index] | [AO3]

Elaena

The summer breeze swept past Elaena, and the warm sunlight kissed her copper skin. Her father’s dragon released a long roar while he carried both of them through the clouds, and she clung to Laenor.

Seasmoke began his descent towards Blackwater Bay after Laenor gently patted his scales, and the familiar sight of the Red Keep became larger as they neared King’s Landing.

The dragon levelled out just above the water, and her father gripped the handles of the saddle. 

Elaena let her gaze settle on the ships leaving the harbour, sailing to gods know where. The sight was still just as breathtaking as it was when she was but a young girl, still hoping that her own egg would hatch. But it never did.

He leaned forward, and the young princess grinned while Seasmoke began to ascend above the city as they flew over the docks. 

She always admired the great structure of the Dragonpit from this altitude. However, their flight would be over soon. It was time to return to her responsibilities, and to tend to her mother. Rhaenyra was due to give birth any day now, and her smile widened as her mind wandered to the prospect of finally having a younger sister. 

She wondered whether her supposed sister would have silvery hair and violet eyes like her own. Though she was nearly seventeen years of age, she couldn’t contain her excitement of introducing her sister to dolls when the time came. There were still many that she kept over the years that rested on display upon a shelf - some had been gifts that her paternal grandfather, Lord Corlys, had bestowed to her before leaving Driftmark when she was only eight. Others had been from King Viserys himself. 

The deafening flap of Seasmoke’s wings had pulled her from her thoughts as he circled the Dragonpit before he landed just outside the tunnel where the handlers were waiting. 

“Dohaerās, Seasmoke!” One of them commanded.

He growled, and Elaena gently patted his grey scales. 

“Umbās,” Laenor said firmly. “Rybās.”

Seasmoke snarled lightly as the young princess chuckled, and her father unlinked the chain around their waists.

“You did well, darling,” he chuckled softly. “Soon enough you’ll be riding alone on your own dragon.”

“But there aren’t any unclaimed dragons here, Father,” she frowned as Laenor helped her out of the saddle. 

“There’s plenty at Dragonstone, love,” Laenor smiled and gently poked her nose, making her chuckle. “We can venture there after your new sibling arrives.”

“Do you promise?”

“Of course, love.”

She glanced to her left to see the carriage waiting for them, and her gentle smile dissolved when she met Aegon’s violet gaze.

“My sweet niece,” he called with a wide grin as Sunfyre was being guided out of the Dragonpit.

Elaena resisted the urge to scowl as she dismounted her father’s dragon. 

She despised her uncle, and rather than physically tormenting her as he once had when they were children, he made a point of attempting to provoke her at every turn with his ridiculous innuendos. How he was nearly a man grown, yet still acted like a child at times was beyond her.

“Prince Aegon,” she reluctantly greeted, and Laenor offered the same courtesy. 

Her father pressed his lips together and avoided his good brother’s gaze as he encouraged her to pet Seasmoke, gently moving her hand across the beast’s neck. The dragon snarled softly in contentment when her palm moved against his scales. 

“Why don’t you return to the Red Keep while I fetch an egg for your new sibling,” Laenor suggested. “I’m sure your mother will want your company.”

“All right,” she nodded, and Laenor gently kissed her forehead before she turned to walk towards the carriage.

“Welcome back, Princess,” Ser Steffon greeted. He was sitting astride his white stallion and offered her a gentle smile.

“You look relieved, Ser Steffon,” she laughed.

He chuckled with her. “I am relieved,” he pointed out. “Your unspoiled return just saved my head from a spike.”

She turned to face him, now walking backwards. “If I met my death with my father astride Seasmoke, then I died the death of a dragon rider,” she outstretched her hands dramatically before she mockingly bowed. “It’d be an honour.”

“Aye,” he shook his head as Laenor chuckled. “The Lord Commander warned me you’d be just like your mother in her youth - and your aunt at that.”

Elaena couldn’t stop the laugh that escaped her, and she turned back with a wide grin. She didn’t notice that Aegon had moved closer, and she nearly collided with him as she released a sharp gasp.

“Fuck,” she huffed, stepping back.

“There are other ways to tame a dragon, sweet niece,” Aegon bent at the waist to whisper in her ear. “If you still yearn for one. Come to my chambers tonight, and I might show you how.”

Her stomach turned. She gave him a contemptuous look as she moved past him towards the carriage, and Aegon chuckled.

“May the gods shrivel his cock,” she muttered under her breath.

The sound of his voice was irritating, and his presence was almost unbearable as she resisted the urge to shiver with disgust.

“Good morrow, Elaena,” Helaena greeted from the carriage with a gentle smile, and her expression softened.

Elaena smiled widely as she approached her aunt while she took off her glove with her teeth. 

“Your mother has given birth,” the Targaryen princess said.

“Already?” She asked, voice muffled. “Is it a boy or a girl?”

“A boy,” Helaena nodded.

Elaena sighed with disappointment and looked down as she removed her other glove.

“What… auspicious news,” she forced a smile and peered back at Seasmoke as the dragon slithered back into the depths of the Dragonpit alongside her father. 

The sunlight reflected from the dragon’s grey scales in an iridescent haze, and Elaena turned back after she caught Aegon leering at her again, sitting astride Sunfyre.

She released a disgusted sigh, rolling her eyes before Helaena outstretched her hand towards her to invite her within the confines of the carriage.

“I do hope your flight with Ser Laenor was a pleasant one,” she tilted her head. 

“It was,” Elaena smiled softly as she grasped her hand and climbed the steps into the wheelhouse. “I must admit, I’m surprised that you’re not riding today. It’s been a while since Dreamfyre was let out.”

“She just laid a clutch of eggs,” Helaena beamed as the two settled together. “I heard that Lord Stark is coming to court from Winterfell. And his eldest sons.”

“Odd,” Elaena furrowed her brows. “The Starks haven’t been to the capital since my first name day.”

“They’re coming for Aegon’s tourney,” she elaborated, and gently squeezed her hand after her niece scoffed. “And perhaps a betrothal.” 

Elaena deadpanned as she resisted the unpleasant shiver that threatened. 

She had grown up on stories of the suspicious and superstitious ways of the Northerners - the stories of the Kings of Winter. A brutal lot, they were, and she dare not assume that the passing centuries had softened their hearts or their grim ways after her forebears had united the realm. Even if it weren’t true, she didn’t want to live out the rest of her days in the grey waste of their homeland.

“Gods, I hope not,” she muttered, and a giggle bubbled from Helaena.

The carriage ride back to Maegor’s Holdfast was tedious and Elaena gazed through the wicker covering while Helaena had fallen asleep. 

She watched as she passed through the capital, and placed her hand over her mouth and nose, unaccustomed to the stench as they passed through Flea Bottom. 

Elaena began to wonder what life would have been like had she been born a commoner rather than a princess. To be a simple peasant, someone who did not need to constantly question why her younger brother, Jacaerys, was named her mother’s heir, and not her. 

She was the eldest of the Velaryon siblings, after all, and the unsettling thought plagued her mind for years. Was it really because she was a woman? Or was it simply to honour Westerosi tradition? But she was painfully aware that her grandsire had already broken that tradition with her mother. 

Her father once told her that it was because Rhaenyra didn’t want to burden Elaena with the responsibility of ruling when the time came. But she knew in her heart it was something… deeper. 

She possessed the typical traits of House Velaryon: silver-white curls, copper skin and violet eyes. Her younger brothers, however, did not inherit the same traits. But of course, that was yet another matter that was meant to be left unspoken. 

When the two finally arrived at the Red Keep, Elaena walked with her aunt through the castle in comfortable silence until they parted ways to tend to their own devices. 

She made haste to her bedchamber to change out of her riding attire. Having settled on a fine cerulean gown, she sighed softly when she gazed into the looking glass while her handmaiden, Rinna, quietly fussed over the mess of her wind-tousled curls. 

“Are you sure you do not wish to style it in the tradition of your house, Princess?” the woman asked. “It would be more manageable.”

“I like my hair just the way it is, thank you,” Elaena rolled her eyes playfully while she anxiously smoothed out the lingering wrinkles of the skirt of her gown with her hands.

“A braid then?” Rinna raised a brow, “Perhaps over your shoulder?”

“Sure.”

“You must be eager to meet your new brother, no?” she smiled. 

“Positively,” Elaena said flatly and examined her fingernails. “I was just hoping that I’d have a sister.”

“Perhaps some day, my princess.”

It didn’t take long for the woman to finish the fishtail, and she tied a leather strap on the ends of her hair to hold it in place.

“There,” Rinna said and pushed the braid over her shoulder before Elaena could reach upwards to do it herself. 

“Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly. 

“Now go. If you delay any longer, your mother will send the guards to come find you,” the handmaiden gave her a pointed look as she stood.

“Do I look like I’ve been out riding?” Elaena asked as she moved towards her door.

“No, but you do smell like you’ve been out.”

“Seven Hells,” she muttered as she glanced around.

There was no time to mask the distinct scent with rosemary oil, and Elaena huffed before she made haste out of her room. She walked quickly throughout the Red Keep, mindlessly greeting every other lord that gently bowed their heads until she rounded the corner towards the next stairwell.

Quiet curses escaped her when she lifted her skirts to skip the steps. She could never understand why King Maegor had left his descendants with a ridiculously enormous castle - that in itself was inherently cruel - but she sighed with relief when she finally approached her mother’s doors and knocked quietly on them.

“Come,” Rhaenyra’s voice resonated, her tone welcoming.

Elaena opened the door and slowly poked her head inside with a sheepish smile. 

“Hello, Mother… Apologies for my tardiness, I was—”

Oh. 

She wasn’t expecting Ser Harwin to be standing beside her mother, and he offered a kind smile as he handed the newborn babe to Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra smiled. “Come in, sit with me a while.”

“I, uh… Of course,” she nodded, letting the door close behind her. 

“Princess,” Harwin greeted with a nod.

“Ser Harwin,” she raised her eyes out of courtesy as she sat on the plush sofa beside her mother. Then her eyes drifted back down towards her brother.

Elaena resisted the urge to frown, and she tilted her head. The boy looked like her other brothers. 

“Where is your father?” Rhaenyra furrowed her brows.

“He’s at the Dragonpit. He said he wanted to choose an egg for the babe.” she shrugged.

“You stink of dragon,” her mother pointed out, disapprovingly. “You went riding with him, didn’t you?”

“I– yes,” Elaena looked away with guilt for a moment before she raised her index finger. “But, I’ve already finished my lessons for the day, and Father wanted to take me riding for practise.”

“You’ll claim a dragon sooner than you think,” Rhaenyra chuckled softly. “But I do hope you’ve learned something today, Elaena. The Septa has informed me that you still struggle with paying attention.” 

She scoffed and pressed her lips together. “If she didn’t speak so slowly, perhaps I’d be more inclined,” she rolled her eyes. “I learn far more from Grandfather than I do from her.”

Ser Harwin smiled, and a quiet laugh escaped him.

“It is still important to focus - even if you find yourself on the edge of tedium.” Rhaenyra gave her a pointed look, and Elaena sighed softly, nodding.

“I’ll try.”

“Well, Elaena, I want you to meet your new brother, Joffrey.”

Joffrey? she thought as she pressed her lips together. That isn’t a Valyrian name.

“Do you want to hold him?” her mother tilted her head. 

Elaena met her gaze and nodded before reaching to gently pull the babe from her grasp as she stood. Elaena cradled the boy in her arms just as she was taught to with Lucerys. 

The babe’s eyes roamed around the grandeur room before he sneezed and the little sound made her giggle. 

“He is very charming, Mother.” 

“Yes,” she agreed. “He is the smallest one out of all of you. And incidentally… you were the largest - and my worst labour.”

Elaena hummed and shifted slowly, keeping her violet eyes on him before she looked at the downy brown hair that thinly covered his head. 

Her brows furrowed, and she discreetly looked up at Ser Harwin who had been watching her sway Joffrey. There were quite a few similarities between them. Between all of them, she finally realised.

It began to make sense why he always seemed to be in their company, and Elaena drew in a breath as she processed the knowledge.

And here I thought he was just being kind.

“I’ll be taking my leave now,” Ser Harwin said, and Elaena cast a sidelong glance in his direction that he didn’t seem to notice.

Her mother emitted a soft hum in response before the knight walked out of the room. Elaena watched him intently before the door closed again, and she cleared her throat. 

“Do you need anything, Mother? Water, perhaps?” She asked as she looked at Rhaenyra. 

The woman shook her head. “No, I’m quite content right now, my darling. Thank you.” 

Elaena slowly sat back down beside her, being careful not to wake the now sleeping infant, continuing to sway him. 

“When I was your age, I couldn’t bear the thought of having children. But everything changed after you were born.” Rhaenyra offered a soft smile, and Elaena returned it. 

The simple acknowledgement quelled most of her doubts, but some still lingered as she looked at Joffrey again. 

“Mother, what are your plans for my future?”

“What do you mean, darling?” Rhaenyra tilted her head as she shifted on the sofa. 

“I mean…” she began, choosing her words carefully. “I’m almost seventeen. The queen said I should be betrothed by now, and Helaena informed me that the Starks might be coming to the capital for one. I-I don’t want to leave home only to be locked away at Winterfell.” 

Rhaenyra exhaled slowly, and she paused in thought as she reached to tuck a loose curl behind Elaena’s ear. 

“My sweet girl,” she leaned closer to her daughter and cupped her cheek. “You descend from the greatest dynasty that has ever been established. You have the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and you are the granddaughter of the greatest voyager. I’m sure that your future husband wouldn’t dare.”

Elaena drew in a breath and leaned against the backrest of the sofa. 

“But, the Starks are our allies,” she said. “And from what I understand, Cregan Stark will be the Warden of the North when the time comes. Regardless of who you wed, you must do your duty to the realm. But for now, you needn’t worry about such things until your red flower blooms.”

Duty. The word settled bitterly in her mind. Lying on her back to later squeeze out an heir for some lord in exchange for a stale oath didn’t seem to be that favourable of a prospect.

The young princess nodded as she masked her disappointment with a polite smile before she gently handed her brother back to her mother.

Gods willing, I’ll just turn up barren, she thought with contempt.

[daemontargaryenwhore]

And Halaena looking up to the falling flowers during the funeral was also a foreshadowing bit.

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ʙᴇʏᴏɴᴅ ʀᴜɴᴇꜱᴛᴏɴᴇ. ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ɴᴏ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀꜱᴛʟᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ʟɪꜰᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴄᴀɴ ʟɪᴠᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴛʀᴜʟʏ ʙᴇʟᴏɴɢꜱ. ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴋɪɴɢ ᴠɪꜱᴇʀʏꜱ ɪ, ꜱʜᴇ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴇʏꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ ʟᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ꜱʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴇᴛꜱ ʜᴇʀ ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ'ꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴀɪɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰʀɪᴇɴᴅꜱʜɪᴘ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ɪꜱᴏʟᴀᴛᴇᴅ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ.

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇʟᴇᴠᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰᴏᴜʀᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜰɪꜰᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪxᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱᴇᴠᴇɴᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴇɪɢʜᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɴɪɴᴇᴛᴇᴇɴ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴏɴᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛᴡᴏ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ᴛʜʀᴇᴇ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ꜰᴏᴜʀ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ ꜰɪᴠᴇ

ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀɪɴ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴜꜱ: ɪɴ ᴘʀᴏɢʀᴇꜱꜱ (Hiatus)

ɪ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴄᴏᴘɪᴇᴅ ᴏʀ ᴘᴜʙʟɪꜱʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ ᴏʀ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ꜱᴛᴏʀɪᴇꜱ. ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴀᴠᴀɪʟᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴛɪᴍᴇ.

[hopesworlld]

౨ৎ princess of the realm ( prelude )

౨ৎ 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 — aegon targaryen x aemma velaryon

౨ৎ 𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 — the birth of princess aemma velaryon

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 — 693

౨ৎ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 — graphic depictions of child birth, swearing

౨ৎ 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗮𝗸𝘀 ! — making a new series, bitches ! the feminine urge to want to fix aegon is real so here i am with the prelude ! no aegon yet but he'll be here soon i promise !

heart of the dragon series

▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁▁

A harrowing scream tore through the frozen air, shattering the silence and plunging the room into chaos. 

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, the Realm’s Delight, first-born daughter of King Viserys I and Queen Aemma, and future heir to the Iron Throne sat hunched over. Silvery blonde hair clinging to her face, tears running down her cheeks as she clutched her swollen stomach. 

“You have to push, Princess,” One of the handmaidens cries, watching as Rhaenrya’s head falls back, sweat coating her brow, blood seeping from between her legs. 

The princess let out another cry, hands clasping at her headboard, straining so harshly her legs were trembling, lips split and broken as she sucked in harsh breaths of air. The Maester quickly crossed the room, body clad in deep smokey gray robes, settling himself between the Princess’s legs as she forced herself to push once again. 

“Gods,” Rhaenyra screeched as her handmaiden gently dabbed her forehead with a wet cloth, dapping away the perspiration that pooled there, carefully tucking the Princesses silvery blonde hair from her eyes. 

“I can see the head,” The Maester exclaimed, “Princess, you need to push harder,” He said, and the woman’s jaw clenched, violet eyes blazing with the flames of the dragons.

“I am fucking pushing,” She spat, knuckles turning white with the force she was gripping her bed frame as she let out another groan, pushing once and gasping for air frantically, before pushing once again. A horrific tearing feeling welled between her legs, so intense her vision went hazy, and then there was crying. There in the Maester’s arms with a writhing babe, all pink skin and blood. 

“It’s a boy, Princess,” The Maester smiled, Rhaenyra gasped, eyes fixed upon the tiny thing that he been nestled in her womb only minutes before, her hands coming out to reach for the child, her first babe. They lay him against her breast and his wails fell silent. For a moment all was calm, then came another harsh pain to her stomach that made Rhaenyra jostle her new babe, a restrained groan falling from her lips. 

“The afterbirth,” One of the handmaidens whispered, gently reaching out to take the babe, the Maester snipping the cord that connected mother and son swiftly before turning back to Rhaenyra, the princess was rigid, legs spread, blood coating her thighs, eyes darting between her new born son and her stomach, still aching with pressure. 

“There’s another,” The Maester gasped, dropping back down, watching as the head began to crown.

“Another?” Rhaenyra sobbed, eyes rolling back as another wave of pain overtook her. 

“Yes, Princess, I can see the babe’s head,” The robed man said. Instantly the handmaiden’s fell back to the princesses, clutching her hands and supporting her into a sitting position as she cried out, pushing out the second babe with considerable more ease than the last. 

“A girl,” The Maester announced, “You have a daughter, Princess,”

Sobs tore from Rhaenyra’s lips as they now placed her daughter upon her chest as they had done with her son only minutes before. The baby did not cry, but her violet eyes were wide and alert, little arms flailing around as she stared at her mother. 

“The other,” Rhaenyra whispered, “The boy, bring me the boy,” She said, tearing her eyes away from her daughter for just a moment until her son was also placed in her arms, the two babes silent as they nestled againt their mother. A brilliant smile breaking across her cracked lips. 

“Twin’s,” She whispered in disbelief, planting a delicate kiss on each of their heads. “Oh my sweet loves,” The Princess was enamoured, staring at her two children with nothing but love, she had never felt anything quite like this, complete and utter contentment with the two babes in her arms. 

“Jacaery’s,” She pronounced to the boy, with a shock of dark hair and deep brown eyes. “Aemma,” She whispered to her little daughter, considerably smaller than her twin. 

The Seven Kingdom’s sang, a new Prince and Princess of the realm had been born. Prince Jacaery’s Valaryon, and Princess Aemma Valaryon, the Princesses heirs once she came upon the Iron Throne. 

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[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Five: The Princess and the Queen

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Hello, besties! How about that finale... I wanted to thank everyone who has left lovely comments and support about the story. It really makes me smile. I hope I continue to write y'all a story you like as it progresses. Thanks again!

Chapter Warnings: mentions rape, trauma, and symptoms related to childhood SA, mentions self-harm, emotional abuse.

The halls of the Red Keep were a vast expanse filled with candelabras, torches, paintings, and tapestries. If it was night, one could pass by a person and not notice them. The tremendous shadows held many secrets, causing you only to venture alone if there was no choice. 

But in the day, with the help of the warm sun shining through archways and open windows, it was a magnificent sight. It made you feel deeply grateful and amazed that your ancestors built a place like this and stood the test of time with its beauty. 

A tapestry, in particular, caught your eyes as you walked the grand halls to your lessons with the old crone Septa Marlow. It was woven with the finest colored wool with shiny red, green, brown, and white silk threads, depicting a scene between men, women, and dragons. Studying it with furrowed brows, you felt perplexed as you tilted your head, trying to understand the story told through the fabric. It looked like the people were naked, enjoying a festive party filled with wine, smiles, and dragons that devoured each other, mouths of men, women, and beasts on bodies in odd places.

The artist showed one man with his head buried between a lady’s thighs and a dragon pressed closely behind him. Another was a woman and a dragon resting between her legs, leaning over the top of her with its pointed tongue touching her chest. The memory of what Aegon did to you on the ramparts that night came to the forefront of your mind, and it sent a hot, nauseating wave to your stomach and privy parts. It was such a bewildering piece of art that you never noticed until now, making you wonder if it had always been there and if there were more of them.

“Do you like it?” A voice asked beside you, causing you to release a shriek as you jumped out of your skin. 

As you tried to calm your nerves, Aegon suddenly stood beside you, touching your chest. Every fiber of your being told you to run. To scream, kick, or hurt your uncle after what he did, but instead, your body betrayed you, anxiety filling your shoes with rocks.

“Personally, it’s one of my favorites. It shows how our dragon blood came to be,” he continued, jutting his narrow hip to the side as he flicked his frizzy mane. 

You couldn’t think, breathe, or scratch at the prickling hair on your arms. You were mad—that is what you were feeling. You were upset because your uncle stole you from your thoughts and didn’t listen when you told him to stop. 

“You hurt me, Aegon!” The words echoed against the pale redstone as he flinched like you had struck him. He briefly stared at your scowl as you did with the tapestry, thin lips pursed as he tried wrapping his mind around what you could be referencing. 

“Oh! You mean the other night?” Aegon chortled and shrugged his hands in the pockets of his trousers as if this was the most basic of revelations. “Twas nothing, niece. You know it. We cuff each other about all the time and think nothing of it. This was no different.” 

Fire filled your veins at his passivity, digging your nails into your skin until they left crescents in their wake. “No, this was different. You hurt me, uncle. It still hurts there,” you confessed, attempting to keep your anger instead of the gradual wetness that itched your nose. 

Worry flashed in Aegon’s amethyst eyes as he fully faced you, taking a step closer as you took one back in return. He pretended not to feel the slight at your wordless rejection and held out a sinewy hand. This was how it always was when Aegon did something you didn’t like. You would pout for a few days until he begrudgingly apologized without the words, and then you and your brothers would tease Aemond. He believed this time would be no different.

“Come on,” he sighed with a slight roll of his eyes. “Let’s skip your lessons today and go to the Godswood. You can pick those pretty flowers you like. It’ll be like nothing ever happened,” your uncle offered with his typical lopsided grin.

The action startled you, causing your muscles to tense and your spine to go rigid as you hugged your stomach for comfort. Fear replaced any anger you felt at the notion that you would be alone with Aegon and have no one to help you if he didn’t listen to you again. Without knowing it, your skirt became damp, a dark spot slowly forming on the sky-blue fabric between your legs as you soiled yourself. 

Your face heated in shame as your uncle waited for your answer, too stunned by the involuntary action to think of running away when he abruptly noticed the liquid flowing into the cracks of the stone floor. He jumped away with a disgusted yelp like it would burn him if he touched it as you covered your eyes in embarrassment. Tears leaked from them, unable to stop the thick droplets as they ran down your cheeks like rivers and stained your sleeves. Your uncle would surely use this against you for the rest of your life.

This was all Aemond’s fault, Aegon thought. It’s not enough that he is their mother’s favorite. He had to take the one thing that was his—the only person who was solely at his side and his side only. Now, his being in his niece’s presence caused her to wet herself out of fright. He didn’t mean to hurt you. You both were having a bit of fun. The serving girls never seemed to act the way you were.

Aegon stared at you. Unsure of what to do and if you would still avoid his touch, he took another step forward, preventing the urine from touching his shoes, and reached out to extend tense words of comfort. 

“All is well, niece,” he awkwardly consoled and patted your shoulder like you would a rabid dog. “Tis nothing-”

“Princess!”

The title was screamed down from the end of the hall, interrupting your uncle and distracting you from your shame. Both you and Aegon turned to the commotion and saw Septa Marlow storming towards you at a speed faster than a woman her age should travel. You were severely late to your lessons, and per your mother’s orders, Marlow was allowed to search for and punish you as she saw fit for your misbehaviors. 

Releasing a defeated groan, you hung your head and mentally prepared for the tongue lashing you would receive from her and your mother later as she stood before you, huffing with her bony hands on the waist of her grey skirt. You attempted to hide the damp spot on your dress and covered it with your hands.

“Little Miss, I’ve been waiting for you in the lesson room for half an hour! Your mother told you what would happen if you skipped them again,” the old maid sighed exasperatedly, shaking her habit-covered head in disappointment. “You are a woman of the crown, and yet you toss your duties aside as if they are no more than rotten fruit. When will you learn?” 

Your eyes focused on the pool that glistened in the daylight as it reflected your face. A countenance puffy with tears and wet with snot, plump, moist lips pursed into a deep frown framed by a head of dark waves. At this angle, you could see the small patch of hair you plucked out of your scalp, the urge to touch it coming over you. You wondered if others could see it, too.

“Look me in the eyes when I’m speaking to you, Princess,” Marlow ordered with a strict tone. You gradually lifted your gaze to match hers, fighting back another onslaught of tears. 

You were tired of getting in trouble. You wanted to be the good girl your mother said you were, but it was hard. It seemed as if everything you did was wrong, and you began to believe you deserved harsher punishment because of your continued failure. The urge to feel the sting of hair pulled from its follicle was too strong. You needed to be alone, away from irate Septas and parents, and with your brothers or Aemond—people who understood your sadness and would listen to it.

Your Septa observed you with calculating eyes, flicking from the sorrowful arch of your brows to the downward bow of your lips to your stained skirt. You tried to obscure it more from her view, twisting your body to the side, but it was for naught as she pulled at your wrist, displaying your disgrace for all to see. Marlow’s gaze was piercing, trying to pull puzzle pieces together as she looked from you to Aegon. 

Without warning, she yanked you behind her by your arm, feeling as if she wanted to pull it from the socket and put her body between yours and your uncle’s. 

“What did you do?” she interrogated sharply, her thin lips becoming even thinner with her jaw set. Aegon stared at her, stunned, and you began to weep in horror. “What did you do to her?” 

The question sent chills down your limbs, making the hairs stand on end. What did he do to you? All you could comprehend was that Aegon hurt you with a part that was supposed to be covered, like when you would get into fights that developed into blows. You knew it was wrong, but how Marlow shielded you with her body like a soldier on the battlefield made you think it was more than what a simple scuffle would be.

Aegon stared at Septa Marlow, shocked. His mouth agape as he stuttered to explain, his hands gesturing when he couldn’t get the words out. “Nothing!” he shouted in defense and stepped back from the elderly woman. 

“Liar,” she staunchly declared as she grabbed your uncle by his ear, bringing him closer to her seething gaze.

“Unhand me wench! I am a prince!” He screeched like a kicked dog, yelping and hollering in astonishment. You never thought Septa Marlow was so hearty or bold enough to scream in the crown prince’s face, and it scared you to no end as you hid in the fabric of her scratchy wool dress.

“People respond to pain according to where they were hurt, my Prince,” she spat as you listened with surprise. 

Did she know?

Aegon was awful. He felt slighted and would upset everyone just because he was. You worried Marlow would get into trouble with the Queen for touching her son and tried to lead her away, but your little arms were useless as she spoke through gritted teeth. 

“She isn’t one of your toys you can use as you see fit. When Rhaenyra hears of what you’ve done to her daughter, you’re mother won’t be able to protect you.” 

With that, Septa Marlow released Aegon as he whined, rubbing the afflicted area like she had ripped his ear from his head. You didn’t want her to get reprimanded on behalf of defending you, so you tugged at her sleeve again, begging with your eyes for her to leave. 

“Please, Septa, I want to go to my lessons now,” you implored, the words hiccuped.

She faced you then as if she suddenly recalled your presence beside her and stroked a comforting hand down your loose hair, coming to cup your cheek with a tenderness she had never given you before. It startled you into silence. Anguish glistened in Marlow’s blue eyes, as light as the sapphire bedsheets you slept on every night as she took your balled fist into her cold one. 

“Let us get you cleaned first,” she kindly replied, disregarding Aegon as if he didn’t matter. 

Septa Marlow seemed almost mournful like she suddenly discovered that she had lost a loved one as she led you down the many halls to your chambers in silence.

Your ladies-in-waiting greeted you with startled expressions as they tended to their duties, surprised to see you and Septa Marlow at an odd time. The first one to bow was Edwina of House Karstark, the youngest of Lord Rolan Karstark and his Lady wife. She was a few years older than you and was stout, standing on tall, sturdy legs and hips. Her shoulders were broad underneath her crimson servant gown, which featured wide blue-gray eyes and long brown hair styled underneath her cap. 

“Princess,” she politely greeted with a curtsy as the others followed. 

Septa Marlow wasted no time ordering your ladies to draw you a bath, the women ceasing their actions as they hastily ran to the kitchens to gather hot water. Staring at the older woman with a wary expression, you played with your fingers as you felt the overwhelming fluttering sensation of nerves bubble in your stomach. You hadn’t bathed since before that night, and the idea of multiple people seeing you in a vulnerable state made you want to run away. This wasn’t something you had experienced before. 

Typically, you loved baths, even bathing with your brothers on occasion as you played with toys and the servants scrubbed your bodies, but now, it seemed as if an abrupt aversion deep within you spawned, and you were powerless to stop it.

The maids finished with their last pail of water, dumping it into the metal tub and sprinkling in slices of oranges and nectarines, which were your favorites. Yet you still looked at the steaming water with reluctance. You didn’t want to bathe. It would take too much time, and having your body bare, feeling the hands of people gripping, scrubbing your flesh, water sloshing… 

It was too much. 

“Come, princess, let’s undress,” Enith, another of your ladies from House Blackbar, kindly ordered you with a wave of her dainty hands. 

Without warning, you ran to your bed, resting on your knees as you shook your head vehemently. “No! I don’t want to take a bath. I want to go to my lessons with Septa Marlow!”

The women exchanged confused glances, multiple pairs of colored eyes waiting for the other to do something about your out-of-character disobedience. They knew something must be wrong. You were never one to tolerate having the slightest bit of dirt underneath your fingernails, and not only did you deny cleaning yourself despite being covered in urine, but you wanted to go to spend time with Septa Marlow. You despised your lessons. You would kick and scream until your voice gave out, saying you didn’t want to go. Now you were doing the same.

“Princess,” Marlow called her gaze disbelieving and holding a look of challenge. “You must bathe before you can be seen. Your skirt reeks of piss.” You comprehended her reasoning, but something inside you refused to listen as you shouted disagreements.

Your Septa, the boldest of the women, came forward to grab you, but you swiftly dodged her, sliding across your wrinkled sheets. She dealt with your mother before you and knew how to handle troublesome young girls, though the years weighed heavily on her parchment-thin skin and brittle bones, and she was unable to get a hold of you. 

“I don’t want to take a bath!” You shouted as Edwina took a step forward, attempting to help Marlow undress you. They managed to snatch your leg and remove your dress as you wiggled and squirmed in their grasp, the fabric catching on your ears.

You quickly scampered away after they let go and flung open the adjoining door to your brother’s room, running over each of the neatly made beds as Septa Marlow and your ladies chased you. Swiftly, you ran to the exit, attempting to run out and down the hall. To where they couldn’t find you but were hastily stopped by Enith in front of you.

“Get, Princess Rhaenyra,” Marlow ordered Enith as she and Edwina restrained you, kicking and screaming in their grasp. “What is wrong with you? Does this have something to do with Prince Aegon?” Marlow pointedly questioned, on the verge of coughing with exertion.

Refusing to answer, you continued to thrash against them. You didn’t want to hurt your Septa despite disliking her, but if she told your mother about Aegon being the cause of your accident and she started asking questions, you would have no choice but to tell her about that night. Perhaps you could try to lie and say your uncle startled you in the corridor, which is why you wet yourself. You prayed to the Gods that she would believe you.

What felt like hours of struggling against a girl a few years older than you and an ancient Septa was moments as your mother emerged, a startled, wide-eyed look on her face as she watched you bite Edwina’s dress sleeve. 

“Enough!” your mother shouted over your dispute, ceasing all three of you as you panted.

Without hesitation, you ripped your arms away from the women, stomping to your room and curling face-first into a maroon settee. They were powerless to stop you now that your mother was here. You could hear their mumblings through the wall as a new wave of tears crashed over you, burying your cries into the soft cushions. 

You were uncertain what the reason for your sobs was. It could be that you had just experienced a rush of emotions you weren’t ready to handle or the guilt of making your ladies and Septa Marlow chase you around your shared quarters like a mouse, yet you knew the real reason. You tried denying it briefly, but the conscience your mother instilled in you made you see the truth. 

You were terrified about what she would do if she discovered you snuck out with Aegon, drank stolen wine, and ate desserts from the kitchens when you were supposed to be asleep.

The door to Jace and Luke’s room clicked shut, and you briskly raised your head at the sound, seeing your mother. You swiftly buried your face back into the cushions as you heard the delicate tapping of her shoes come closer. She said nothing for a long moment, sitting beside you and rubbing a gentle hand in soothing circles on your back. 

Rhaenyra wasn’t upset with your behavior; she was more concerned than anything. Like Septa Marlow said, this was unlike you. Your nursemaids taught you how to use the privy, and you hadn’t wet the bed since you were four. For Seven’s sake, it was everything your mother could do to get you out of the tub! 

She knew something had happened, something terrible.

“Little love?” Rhaenyra tenderly spoke your name as she leaned closer. “Will you tell me the cause of this?” 

You merely sniffled in response, rendered into tearful silence. 

Rhaenyra gave you a pitying unseen smile and released a sigh through her nose. She hadn’t seen you this worked up since Aemond pushed you into the garden fountain, smacking your mouth against the stone and knocking out your front tooth. With the tooth, it was an easy fix. All she needed to do was explain that another would grow back since you were young. With this, she was unsure of the cause and did not know how to get the reason out of you. 

“I can see this is hurting you, and it pains me deeply. You must know that whatever transpired will never make me love you less,” your mother confessed, her free hand clasping yours. “Whatever has you feeling in such torment is far more harsh of a punishment than I could ever give you. I could not bear to do more.” 

Slowly, you removed your face from the pillow, turning to rest your plump cheek on it. “You won’t be mad at me if I tell you?” you asked with a childish softness to your voice. 

“You know that I won’t ever lie to you. I cannot guarantee I won’t be upset, but the inner torment you currently face suffices any consequence I could give you,” your mother replied honestly, sighing and scrunching her brows.

While the words didn’t make you feel better, you did feel a lightness in your soul. You fully faced her then, tearful eyes glistening in the natural light like polished mahogany obsidian. Hiccuping your breaths, you leaned on your mother’s shoulder as she wrapped her long arm around you, uncaring about the foul-smelling gown. 

“Aegon, he sn-snuck up on me while I went to my lessons. He scared me,” you explained, thoughts and memories all mumbled together as you began to twist your hair to soothe your nerves. 

“Is that all?” she inquired in disbelief. “Your uncle scared you, and that caused you to…” Your mother didn’t finish the thought before you shook your head, impulsively tugging at your dark locks. 

“No, Mama. It happened before then. A few-a few nights ago, Aegon left me a note underneath my pillow and said he had something to tell me. He told me to follow a secret passage and that he was waiting for me.” 

You saw the color drain from your mother’s face, her violet eyes widening in horror as she swallowed nervously. “We went into the kitchens and wine cellars, helping ourselves to food and drink. A scullery maid caught us, and then he took me outside to the battlements of the Holdfast. We sat, ate, and drank, and he told me about Queen Alicent’s plan to arrange a marriage between us.”

Your mother clenched her jaw, clutching your shoulder and forcing you to face her, gaze searching for something. “Is that all?” You swiftly nodded your head. “Nothing else happened? Your uncle didn’t take you anywhere? He didn’t touch you?”

You stared at her, confused, examining the delicate slope of her nose and the intensity of her eyes. “No. Aegon didn’t take me anywhere. We stayed in the castle,” you answered hastily, trying to appease her unrest. “But he did hurt me. That’s why I don’t want to bathe; it still hurts.”

“What do you mean? How did he hurt you?” The severity of her gaze didn’t lessen, her strong fingers digging into the meat of your shoulders as she said your name. 

“He put his privy part inside-” 

You were unable to complete your sentence as your mother suddenly let out a heart-wrenching cry, pulling you close to her chest as she sobbed. Her outburst took you aback, but instinctively wrapped your arms around her, trying to offer comfort.

“Tis alright, Mama. It’s like when I lost my front tooth,” you said calmly, but she shook her head. 

“No, no, it’s not. Aegon did something to you, something you are far too young to comprehend. Does Alicent’s bitterness for our youth blind her from decency and honor?” 

And with that, you learned what Aegon did to you. 

Rape. 

Your eldest uncle raped you before you knew the meaning of the word—before you inquired where children came from. The tapestry you saw in the hall made sense now, except they were experiencing pleasure while you experienced pain. Your mother told you that what Aegon did was something that should only happen between two people who understood the consequences of sex. 

Your uncle took advantage of your innocence and abused his power over you. He knew you would allow him to do whatever he wanted because you sought his approval like nothing else. 

Your mother told you she also experienced something similar with her Uncle Daemon when she was much older and comprehended what sex was. She recounted how he left a note for her that led to a passage in her chambers just like you did, though he led her out of the safety of the Red Keep to the Streets of Loom and Silk to see her people where he abandoned your mother. You decided then that you didn’t like your Great Uncle Daemon. 

“Did he…” Rhaenyra couldn’t finish her question, tears choking her. “Did he reach completion? Did his… his seed…” 

You stared at her in confusion, still grappling with all she had explained. “Aemond caught us and took me back to his room. I didn’t see any of his seed afterward,” you answered plainly as your mother grimaced at the words. “He hasn’t told anyone. He promised not to. We’ve spent time together reading, and I think he’s becoming my friend.” 

Rhaenyra wiped the water from her face and gave you a forced smile, her mouth wet as she bobbed in acknowledgment. 

“Wonderful. I’m happy for you. You’ve always been a kind girl,” she thickly said, swallowing the excess moisture and smoothing your loose strands of hair. “Now, let’s get you cleaned up, hmm? I can show you how so you don’t have to become bear with anyone you don’t want to.”

“But it’s going to hurt, mama,” you whined, tugging on her satin gray dress sleeve.

“I know, sweetheart, but you must,” she sighed, stroking you in a gesture of comfort for you or her; you didn’t know. “How about we bring Jace here? He’s due for a scrub.”

Rhaenyra would do anything to control this uncontrollable situation. 

Fidgeting with your hair nervously, you nodded in acquiescence, allowing her to undress and lower you into the water. The warm liquid burned you between your legs like you thought it would as you clawed at your mother’s arms, releasing whimpers with tensed muscles until you adjusted. She comforted you with sweet nothings until you calmed, kissing your forehead and calling for a servant to fetch your brother. 

Jace arrived begrudgingly moments later from his lessons and stripped himself bare. You couldn’t help how your gaze drifted below his waistline as you unwillingly compared it to the memory of Aegon’s. You wondered what it would look like, “aroused,” as your mother called it. It sent an unwelcomed yet not entirely unpleasant tickle into your stomach as he got in with a huff. 

As Rhaenyra declined the assistance of your attendants and Jace’s manservants in bathing her children, she deftly took the supplies from them and dismissed them with a swift gesture. Guiding you on scrubbing your body and washing your hair, she momentarily paused as she came upon the small patches of missing hair. A sense of anxiety gripped you as you felt her fingers inspecting the area, but to your relief, she made no comment and continued as if nothing occurred. 

You appreciated her kindness and understanding more than ever at that moment as Jace mischievously splashed you with soapy liquid, and a water fight between giggling siblings ensued.

The sun casts its faint glow from behind the gray clouds of King’s Landing, rays of light shining as if from the heavens above. Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen stood atop her high balcony with her newborn in her sturdy arms, swaying him gently as she hummed a tune and looked over all the splendor the city offered. It was a land she would one day rule over and her children after her as she smiled at the sleeping bundle near her heart. 

The Princess loved her children dearly, especially the man she had them with. Despite having a name that would strike fear into his foes, he had a gentle heart. She felt her allies severely dwindle when he left. In a place Rhaenyra called home, she began to feel like an outcast. Suppose Alicent’s elaborate charade of parading a newborn child and its mother around the Red Keep was any say. The lengths her old friend would go to humiliate Rhaenyra were limitless. 

She recalled balking at her husband Laenor abandoning his post at the Red Keep to escape the rumors of the court and martial unhappiness to fight in the Stepstones with his father. But as time passed, the idea of leaving became more and more reasonable to Rhaenyra. On the chance that she would leave her home, it would not be for her, but for her children, for her only daughter whose innocence was taken before she knew what it was. It made her ill to understand that a child who was far too young to wonder where children came from would experience such depravity. 

Now more than ever, Rhaenyra questioned her children’s safety.

The Princess didn’t care about the concept of purity in this situation. No one knew what occurred other than the two involved, her and Aemond. If word happened to get out, she would fight for her daughter’s name. She was sure her half-brothers would not tell anyone, as it would be death to Alicent’s and her family’s pious image. It was mutually assured destruction. 

The door to Rhaenyra’s bed chambers opened, and a guard bowed and announced the unexpected visitor. She didn’t invite anyone. At the thought, her heart began to race, and she worried it could have something to do with you as she put Joffrey down. 

“Queen Alicent of House Hightower,” he boomed, bowing his helmeted head as the woman entered. 

Rhaenyra had half a mind to send her away. How dare she come into her quarters after everything that happened? After decades of torment and snide comments, she approaches her old friend with an air of ignorant, entitled kindness. 

“My Queen,” Rhaenyra acknowledged, refusing to extend a bow as she clasped her hand behind her back. “What do I owe the pleasure?” 

Alicent smiled briefly, encircling her fingers over her olive and gold waist as she stepped closer. The pointed star of the Seven glistened around her dainty neck. She swallowed as the Princess studied her with calculating eyes, sensing an unusual aura of hostility.

“Excuse my intrusion, Princess. I needed to speak to you. I know that we’ve had our share of differences as of late,” she began with a deep breath, wringing her digits, “but I believe that we agree on the decency of the realm and the future of our Houses.” 

Rhaenyra raised a manicured brow at the woman before her, and her peony lips curled into a snarl of disgust. She knew the next words that would undoubtedly follow.

“I know you are not blind to the rumors about the plainness of your children-”

“Vile accusations fueled by those lusting for my ruination,” the Princess interrupted, standing behind the golden-colored settee that separated her from the Queen.

Alicent sighed and pursed her lips, refusing to admit her part in the gossip. She knew it was fact, but that didn’t matter now. She could sense a change in the air, could feel the future in which her light slipped away into the darkness. It was a desperate proposition, seeing as Rhaenyra had already made one. 

“I recall in the days prior that you proposed a marriage between your son Jace and my only daughter Helaena. I wish to offer a compromise, your eldest daughter and my eldest son. They would make a fine match. No one would seek to undermine your inheritance if our Houses were united if we allied ourselves,” she rushed, worried that Rhaenyra would interrupt her like before and spoil her dream. 

She desperately wanted to call you her own, to turn things into how they were meant to be. Alicent itched to tear at the skin of her nails as the Princess stewed in the silence. 

Rhaenyra was insulted at Alicent’s desperation and audacity in countering a marriage alliance that her father told her she vehemently refused. One didn’t do these things. Alicent, the woman who spouted about decency and propriety, dared propose a marriage after the atrocity her son committed before the eyes of the Gods.

A scornful laugh erupted in Rhaenyra’s chest as she traced the wooden engravings of the furniture. “Do you truly think me so desperate?” she challenged bitterly, shaking her loosely tied hair. “You approached my negotiations with such repugnance, and now you come asking me if I will sell my only daughter to that wastrel you call a son. No. You’ve already taken too much.” 

Hurt and confusion laced the wrinkles of Alicent’s face, her doe eyes wide with a helplessness Rhaenyra hadn’t seen since they were girls. She felt as if the Queen pierced her heart with her amber orbs, but she swiftly pushed it aside as she recalled the swollen patches of missing hair on your scalp. Distress was not the expectation Rhaenyra had in mind when she denied Alicent, and it briefly perplexed her before the realization dawned. 

��You don’t know,” she enunciated more to herself than the woman in the room. “Of course, he wouldn’t tell you, but why not Aemond?” 

The Queen became distressed at Rhaenyra’s ambiguity and finally began to pull at her cuticles, attempting to distract her from the anxiety and turn it into pain. She wanted to ask what Aemond and Aegon didn’t tell her, but the words stuck in her parched throat.

Rhaenyra let out a sharp breath through her nose as she walked around an armchair and became face-to-face with her forgotten friend. A sense of superiority came over the Princess at finally having the upper hand after years of pining for Alicent’s kindness. At the moment, she had no desire to end the strife between them. 

“Aegon stole my daughter into the night and led her to the ramparts of the Holdfast, where he raped her,” Rhaenyra described with a pointed fury. “Do you know what it’s like to hear your child cry in your arms because someone debased her? She didn’t know the name of what happened to her.” 

Gasping in horror, Alicent covered her lips in shock, bracing one hand on her stomach as if she would vomit. Her son, her firstborn, the child that she loved dearly but also doomed her to eternal suffering, had raped his young niece. Aegon raped the Gods’ Light. If anyone got word of the atrocity committed on the small folk’s favorite Princess, the realm would turn on House Hightower. No one would support Aegon’s claim despite him being a son.

“Who else knows of this?” Alicent hastily asked, her face pale with fear. A small, desperate part of her still wished to continue with the proposal. Maidens were forced into unhappy marriages as a part of life, and this one would be no different. 

With a dismissive snort, Rhaenyra pivoted away from the Queen and strode back to Joffrey’s cradle. It was no shock to her that the Queen had made such a request. Her preoccupation with appearances and how she was perceived always seemed to overshadow genuine empathy, a characteristic that she appeared to have inherited from her father.

“Aemond, and now, you,” Rhaenyra answered as she stroked the button nose of her newborn. “That is the boy you want my child to wed. Her rapist. What do you think my father would do should he find out?” 

Alicent inhaled sharply, nerves winding themselves into a ball as blood trickled into her nail beds. “There is no need to get the King involved. His health is far too precarious. I shall see to it.” 

The Princess stood in the dimly lit chamber, her emotions simmering beneath the surface as she gazed down at Joffrey, nestled amidst the soft white linens that cradled him. It was nearly time for his feeding, and she didn’t want to continue discussing with the wetnurse present, knowing that any whispers or speculation about her daughter would spread like fleas.

“Good. Out of our shared blood, I will spare Aegon from his fate at the Wall. Know that I will be the one to decide where my daughter’s hand goes. You may take your leave,” Rhaenyra dismissed with a flick. 

Alicent stood frozen in place, her wide brown eyes shimmering with tears as her hand instinctively reached for the delicate Seven-Pointed Star pendant resting at the base of her neck. This object symbolized her unwavering devotion to Faith, virtue, and sacred things. However, in this moment of distress, it felt as though the points of the star were searing into her flesh, cutting into her tender palm like a mark of condemnation. The Queen’s fury, initially directed inward at herself for the perceived failure of raising a son she deemed unworthy, swiftly turned towards her eldest child. 

One thing remained unanswered as Alicent swallowed the lump in her throat, inhaling a deep breath before the question came from her plump lips. 

“How does Aemond know? Did he…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, choked at the idea that both her sons were the wickedest men. 

Rhaenyra shook her head scornfully, sneered, and took Joffrey into her arms, refraining from the bitter laugh that threatened to erupt. “He stopped Aegon from reaching completion inside her, but there was no point. He’d already damaged my daughter beyond comprehension. She wets herself at the sight of him and refuses to bathe without her brother.” 

The Princess’s gaze traveled to the floor, a scowl on her face. The recollection of you whimpering as you lowered into the tub played in her mind’s eye. She sat on the lavish settee that separated her from the Queen, exhausted, the effort of standing still too precarious after her labors. 

“That is your decency,” Rhaenyra jeered as Alicent stood with her back ramrod straight. 

The wetnurse entered the Princess’s chambers before she could respond, wordlessly understanding that this was not a subject to discuss in front of the staff.

The act of Aegon fraternizing with maids and indulging in excess was already troubling, but he deliberately destroyed one of the few things that brought Alicent joy. It felt like a personal attack. He shattered your innocence and the light that used to brighten Alicent’s dreams. Although conflicted about the fact that it was her son who committed this act, she couldn’t help but feel a surge of rage inside her, causing her to drop her arms to her sides swiftly.

Sins such as these will not go unpunished, she thought.

“I thank you for your time, Princess. I will see that the matter is duly handled.” With a heavy heart, the Queen bid farewell to her old friend, lingering momentarily at the chambers’ door before leaving. Little did she know that it would be many years before she would set foot in that place again.

As Rhaenyra observed the Green Queen’s departure, her auburn locks cascading gracefully with each subtle movement of her hips, she resolved to assume dominion over Dragonstone. Despite the perils of her leaving, her children’s safety took precedence over her own. The Red Keep was no longer a secure place for any of them. 

Alicent waited until twilight blanketed the castle as she tentatively nursed a goblet of wine, candles flickering in the darkness. She rarely indulged in this vice, but this day required such comfort. She didn’t think one’s world could end in mere moments, yet for her, it did. The future that helped lay Alicent to rest atop her silk pillows was no more. 

After years of tolerating Rhaenyra’s and Viserys’ arrogance, upholding duty, the kingdom, and the law, she felt she was due this one thing. It was not so much to ask. If her old friend were a better ruler, she would understand that marriage to the one who took advantage of you would be a minuscule sacrifice to make for the good of the realm. But Rhaenyra was a good mother, not a ruler—something which Alicent both envied and disliked. 

Downing the last contents of her cup, Alicent stood still in the day’s attire as she nodded to Ser Criston, who returned one in kind. He knew her destination without her speaking it into existence, escorting her the few rooms to her eldest son’s. She didn’t bother the courtesy of knocking as she shoved open the sturdy oak door to reveal her son resting on the mattress near his window, sheets at his thighs and prick in his hand. Bile briefly burned the Queen’s throat, covering her sneered lips to prevent it from spilling.

It wasn’t the first time she caught Aegon pleasuring himself, nor did she think it would be the last as she witnessed him with a pocket portrait of you in his grasp, stroking his glistening member. Alicent felt sick, turning away from the blasphemous sight before her and into Ser Cristion’s armored chest. This is not her son. 

“Fuck!”

The commotion alerted Aegon to their presence as he shouted obscenities, swiftly covering his hips with the discolored sheets. Was he not afforded the same privacy as others? The Keep was his home, too.

“You are in the presence of your Queen Mother. Act as such,” Criston ordered, the whisper of his hand gliding over Alicent’s back. She stepped away from her sworn protector, brown curls loose as she swallowed her tears.

“What have you done now?” she interrogated with a resentful shake of her head, a scowl on her plump lips.

Aegon peered at her confused, mouth opened as he craned his neck upwards. It was hard to tell what his mother implied, seeing as he got into his fair share of mischief alone and with his nephews and niece. “I don’t know what you mean,” he answered honestly, and Alicent believed him. 

She knew her son would survive daily with nothing but firewater and was unsurprised by his dispassionate attitude. This was another one of his jokes, she realized. Aegon was so ignorant of his bullying that it became his nature. He was incapable of understanding the magnitude of how his actions affected others. 

“What you did to the Princess, how you lured her from her bed at some unholy hour and raped a child! She is a child, Aegon!” Alicent roared, her velvet voice rattling in her throat with anger, arms trembling at her sides. “She does not understand the relationship between man and woman, and you took advantage of her. She trusted you!”

Tears pooled in Aegon’s amethyst eyes, his mouth pouting from his mother’s tirade. “She told me I could do it. I didn’t mean to hurt her!” he protested, recoiling. Aegon felt like a child who destroyed a precious vase after his parent told him not to touch it. “Did Aemond tell you? You know he’s lying. He’s still upset about the pig.”

“Another depiction of your cruelty,” the Queen snidely retorted, face curled in disgust. “Rhaenyra will never agree to a union of our Houses after what you’ve done. You’ve ruined all prospects of my happiness. How does it make you feel to treat your mother this way?” 

When her son did not answer, choosing to lower his head and cower, she stormed towards him, causing Aegon to scamper upright in fear and clutch the sheets in his trembling fingers. Without warning, Alicent struck her son across his cheek, pink blooming across his pale skin. Her son cradled his face as tears began to fall, but she roughly yanked Aegon’s hand away, hitting him like before and causing his lip to split as she screamed.

“How does it feel to have destroyed a child’s life? To have effectively decimated all chances of peace with your repulsive desires? She would have solidified your claim. No one would have thought to raise their banners otherwise,” she fumed as her arms gestured wildly, Aegon flinching with her move. “The realm’s blood is on your hands.”

He hiccuped, unevenly breathing as snot dripped into his mouth, stinging his bloodied lip. Aegon rubbed his swollen cheek that would no doubt bear the mark of his mother’s rage the next morn, swallowing his tears, spit, and mucus. 

“I’m sorry, mummy,” he remorsefully expressed, looking down in shame. 

He was only sorry because Alicent found out. Had it not been for her proposition to Rhaenyra, his mother would have never found out.

She sneered, glaring at her son as Alicent abruptly recalled a quote from a book about motherhood she read as a young girl. It stated how deeply a mother’s love for their child went. It was like nothing else and knew no law or pity. How its mere existence dares all things and remorselessly crushes down all that stood in its path.

Alicent could find evidence of herself in her children, no matter their Targaryen queerness or the silver hair and violet sparkle in their eyes. She saw herself in Helaena’s gently sloped nose, Aegon’s round and sleepless eyes, Aemond’s straight-backed bearing, and how his expressive brow always gave away his genuine emotions.

On the worst of days, she reminded herself that she left a legacy—that Viserys didn’t devour every evidence of her girlhood with his cursed blood. She clung to these shards of herself, reflected at her from her children, and it felt like trying to pick up splinters of colored glass from a broken Sept window with her delicate fingers.

The Queen loved Aegon but could not do so as she did for Helaena, Aemond, Daeron, and you. She would drink poison for her eldest but couldn’t embrace him. Alicent would step into dragon fire for him yet refused to say the words he desperately longed to hear. She tried to tell Aegon that she would love him no matter what he did, that he could not stop her from doing so, but the confession refused to roll off her tongue.

“You are no son of mine,” she declared, inhaling a shuddering breath. There was nothing more for her to say, and she left her son, whimpering and sniveling in the confines of his bedroom. 

Aegon stood alone in the dimly lit chamber, his eyes fixated on seeing his mother’s departure. Overwhelming agony and disgrace filled his being, and he found himself utterly wounded beyond words. It cut him deeply to the core that the person who was meant to love and protect him unconditionally could cause him such anguish. He couldn’t fathom how the one stable relationship he had hoped for in a tumultuous life had turned out to be the source of his deepest pain. It seemed as though his mother’s love was limited, only granted to those who could fulfill her expectations.

It seemed as if taking the place of his mother’s favorite wasn’t enough. Aemond also had to take his only true friend. 

Aegon concluded that Aemond must have made the situation far worse than it was in an attempt to direct Alicent’s wrath onto him. No doubt his younger brother did something to displease her. Without Aemond’s interruption, none of this would have happened. His mother wouldn’t be upset with him, Aegon would still have his pride, and you would still be his friend. After all, you were his first.

You were not naive. You comprehended why your mother chose to depart from the Red Keep, and you felt responsible for it all. It wasn’t that you didn’t appreciate the idea of residing on Dragonstone. In the summer, it was a magnificent place. Aegon the Conqueror’s garden was a breathtaking sight that could rival the Keeps, and the perpetual breeze that swept across the island made the high temperatures quite bearable. Nevertheless, you were apprehensive about living there.

It wasn’t your home. 

You were born and grew up here, surrounded by companions and starting a new beginning with your Uncle Aemond. The Keep was all you knew, but it wasn’t all joyful memories. You often faced relentless teasing from your uncles for not having Valyrian features and simply because you were a girl. Despite the challenges, you wanted things to stay the same, even after what Aegon did. When your mother revealed important news during supper, you didn’t complain about your shared feelings, unlike your brothers. 

As the sun dipped below the western horizon, casting a warm yellow-orange glow across the sky, your mother gently reassured you that Aegon would never trouble you again as she tucked you snugly into bed. Rhaenyra, taking no chances, commissioned the palace locksmith to forge a sturdy iron bolt for the tunnel door and generously compensated him for his secrecy. She doubled the guard outside your chambers also to further ensure your safety. 

Knowing that your eldest uncle could not breach your defenses brought you immense relief, finally allowing you to rest your head. However, that sense of peace shattered as you awoke suddenly, a flutter of anxiety gripping your chest.

Your mother arranged to leave King’s Landing within a fortnight, and with your guards becoming more of a presence than before, you worried when you would see Aemond to tell him goodbye. Your mother had expressed her displeasure at you spending time with any of the Queen’s children, and you didn’t want him to think you abandoned him. 

Laying in your soft bed, surrounded by your plush pillows and fluffy duvet, you tossed and turned, battling the idea of if you should do what started this in the first place and sneak through the tunnels of Maegor’s Holdfast. You were scared about becoming lost in the vast passages, but you inhaled an encouraging breath and threw your covers off. A shiver ran through your body, whether from the sudden lack of warmth or anxiety; you were unsure as you snatched the lit candle from your bedside table. 

You planned to go into the first door you saw and take yourself from there, which proved problematic when it didn’t budge, no matter how hard you pushed. It sent a surge of panic into your soul as you glanced around the dark hallways, the sounds of rats squeaking and water dripping adding to the storm of fear that formed. You felt helpless, afraid that from the blackness, a monster would emerge and devour you whole, leaving nothing but bones for your parents to find. 

Exhale. Inhale.

The steady breathing of your lungs calmed your nerves enough to think clearly. All you needed to do was find the next exit. Eventually, the tunnels would end. 

As you went to step forward, a rock rolled under your shoe, causing you to stumble briefly before an idea came to mind. You recalled days when you spent outside with Helaena or your brothers drawing on the stone walkways of the Keep, creating pictures of your family, dragons, and all sorts of animals before they were washed away by rain. There was no rain in here. You could use it to mark your path and retrace your steps if lost. 

Dragging the stone along the walls created a line lighter than the rock as you felt it vibrate along uneven surfaces. Finally, you found another door. You moved the indentation with the shove of your shoulder, and it opened, revealing a dark room lit by only the silver moon glow shining through the windows. 

You realized it was the library as you saw the towers of bookcases lining the room and felt a surge of victory. Quickly, you scribbled the word onto the passage wall as you shut the portal, a painting depicting a fierce battle between men and dragons hanging on it. You could navigate yourself from here and stealthily walk the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep until you find Aemond’s quarters and enter as you did before. 

He wasn’t startled this time and only sleeplessly turned on his side to face you, opening his covers, which you crawled in greedily. You stuck yourself to Aemond’s side, pinning his arm uncomfortably between your bodies until he unwedged it with a sigh and put it under your neck. You were silent for a long moment with your hands tucked near your chin, unsure how to tell him you were leaving.

Aemond realized as he stared at the top of his canopy bed, violet eyes focused on the fabric that swirled in the night. The more he got to know you, the more your presence stopped irritating him. He liked that you respected his boundaries despite having different ones. You knew that Aemond preferred silence and hated it when someone took his things or disrupted whatever plans he made for the day, which was why he was so affronted when you decided to make a regular appearance in his life. 

“My mother is taking us to Dragonstone,” you blurted, unable to express yourself otherwise. 

Aemond blinked at you in the darkness and unhurriedly turned, his brows arched. “For how long?” he questioned. 

“I’m not sure,” you softly soughed, gazing downcast. “I think forever. Mother doesn’t think we’re safe after what Aegon did and the rumors that we’re…” You couldn’t finish your thought. It was as if the word bastard was something you could not say aloud. 

Aemond knew what you meant and pursed his thin lips as resentment swirled in his stomach. It felt like he couldn’t have anything that made him happy. Born without a dragon, he was forced to be the odd one out, and now he was losing the only person his age who seemed to care for him. Something or someone would permanently ruin his happiness. In this case, it was his brother. Hatred burned in his heart for Aegon. 

“I don’t think Mama will allow me to visit the Keep. She doesn’t want us to be around Queen Alicent or any of you,” you sullenly confided, melancholy tugging your eyes. “A part of me wants to leave because of Aegon, but the other wants to stay with you.” 

“I don’t need you to be my friend. I don’t need your pity,” Aemond barked, causing you to flinch. It was the only way he knew to be when he was uncomfortable with the notion of vulnerability. 

You sighed, squirming closer to him and putting your palm on his chest. “I don’t feel bad for you, Aemond. You’re my only friend besides my brothers. Why would I want to leave you behind?” 

He didn’t know how to respond, unused to someone other than his mother speaking with candid emotions. 

“I enjoy spending time with you, uncle. You’re the first person I told that I wanted to be like Nymeria and find my Mors Martell,” you confessed, playing with the fabric of his nightshirt between your fingers. He didn’t know why the idea that you needed to find your prince consort vexed him. 

“We all must make sacrifices for family,” Aemond stiffly explained. 

You could only get Aemond to offer you comfort by explicitly telling him. He was locked within his mind’s fortress, refusing to let anything or anyone in. 

“When Gaelithox is big enough, I’ll ride him and visit you. I promised that we would fly together.” Aemond’s purple orbs flicked to you at the reminder of your oath, and after a long stretch of speechlessness, he took your hand. 

“Very well,” he nodded, and you nestled closer to your uncle, resting your temple in the crook of his neck. That was good enough for you. You could rest easy now, but your uncle’s mind still whirred, stuck on one thought. 

“Do you think you’ll ever find your Mors Martell?” he asked, stirring you from your slumber. “I heard my mother talking one day, and she said that there was no place for a woman to have expectations for her husband. She must accept whatever match her father deems necessary.”

You hushed for a long moment, and Aemond thought you might have fallen asleep before you rose in your arms, looking down at him in the darkness. “I’m a Targaryen princess, not some regular noblewoman. My mother said I may choose who I want to marry, whether he be a knight, a dragon rider, or a second son—so long as he’s worthy.”

Seeing the hesitancy in his gaze, his silver-blonde hair loose and draped over the green satin pillows, you leaned down, bestowing a short yet sweet kiss to the top of his sun-spotted nose with a grin. He lay there, shocked, unable to speak or move, his cheeks blooming a vibrant pink that you could see in the darkness as you lay back down, feeling satisfied in your gut. 

“All I ask of him is that he has a good heart, cares for me as I do him, is someone with whom I can trust my secrets, and protects me from my enemies. That is the type of man who’s worthy. Dragon or not, it doesn’t matter,” you sighed contentedly, feeling the claws of sleep overtake you.

You stirred with a blink when Aemond’s hand rose slowly and tentatively touched your cheek, your brown eyes wide and glimmering in the moonlight. He swallowed hard, feeling how pleasant, soft, and warm your skin felt under his fingers.  He pressed his forehead against yours, feeling your breath quicken. Your uncle was hesitant about expressing what he wanted so as not to frighten you. Aegon was experienced with this sort of thing, not Aemond, and understood that you would see him the same way if he went about it like his brother did. 

As unworthy. 

A monster.

As he leaned in closer, he gently ran his thumb across your skin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers traced the curve of your neck, causing your breath to catch in your throat. Even in the dimly lit room, he could feel the heat of your blush.

“May I?” he asked, voice mumbled as you nodded quickly, a giddy feeling in your heart.

You gently traced your fingers along his chiseled jawline, savoring the unfamiliar intimacy of Aemond’s proximity. It sent a surge of warmth through his stomach, and his heart raced as he tenderly cupped your cheek in his hand. 

When your uncle’s lips finally pressed against yours, he was surprised by how soft and moist they were, pulling swiftly in slight embarrassment with a noiseless click of flesh. He turned away with hot ears and abruptly shut his eyes, feeling like he was about to die simultaneously from bashfulness and excitement.

“Let us sleep,” he tenderly ordered, settling back into his former position. It was too much emotion for one time, and you didn’t want to push him further. Aemond felt ashamed that he was sharing the same bed as his bastard niece, yet her presence had a calming effect on him.

You answered nothing, settling beside him like before as he put his arms around you, sending a flutter in your heart. It was his first kiss, just like yours, and for the first time in many years, he felt proud, fulfilled, happy, and worthy. For the time being, he didn’t worry about what a life without you and your brothers meant for him, focused only on your comforting warmth and scent that reminded him of a cool, bright summer day as you both fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I hope y'all enjoyed that last scene because it'll be the last sweet one for a long time! XD

Bedwetting, refusing to take baths/showers, and uncontrollable bladder and bowel movements are all common signs of childhood SA. I didn't add that scene in there just for the shock factor. While I didn't experience those symptoms, they are textbook signs.

Some of you shared your experiences in the comments and said what happened to the OC was validating. I wanted to give y'all a public thank you for sharing your experiences even when you didn't have to, and FUCK YOU to whoever did those things to you. Still, there are so many different ways people react to trauma that there isn't a "right" or "acceptable" way to cope with it. Just remember to get professional help if you're able and find ways to channel those feelings that will benefit you positively. It's a lifelong process that can be exhausting at times, but what I like to tell myself (even if it's morbid) is that if I'm dead, then I can't be anything, and if I'm not anything, then the wrong that person did to me is nothing. I don't recommend that line of thinking to everyone, tho. XD

Thank you again for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf, @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024, @aleemendoza2425-blog

[aemondapologistfrfr]

masterlist

these contain 18+ material

aemond x reader

Crawl to Me

Thorough

Book Club Masterlist

Choose Your Next Words Carefully

Dethrone - ongoing x oc

aegon x reader x aemond

The Usual

Let Me Show You

aegon x reader

How to Become No One

The Only Place I Want to Die

The Family Disappointments Masterlist

Does the Devil Have a Name?

Let Me Take Care of You

Better Than Me x male!oc

benjicot blackwood x reader x aegon:

Anniversary Gift

Sworn Protector

benjicot blackwood x reader

His Princess Masterlist

His Wife Masterlist - in the bottom half of this post

Haunting of Riverrun

What the Gods Gave Us

Command Me Part 2

Be Mine

Table 13 & Cherry Pie Part 2

Forbidden Flames

We're Not Kids Anymore

Symphony of Us

Your Throne

Pray That I Don't Catch You

maegor x reader

Silk Ribbons

Death's Servant

addam x reader

The Knight of Your Dreams

More Beautiful Than the Stars

viserys iii x reader

Era of Kings

daemon x reader

Anything for You Masterlist

[blxkstar]

POV: You're in House of the Dragon

The only thing that could tear down the House of the Dragon was itself

I made a playlist for House of the Dragon. Please check it out!

If the world of men is to survive, a Targaryen must be seated on the Iron Throne

Hands turn loom, spool of green, spool of black, dragons of flesh, weaving dragons of thread…

[icarusignite]

An Eye for an Eye Masterlist

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem! Velaryon!OC

Summary:

Lucerys Velaryon was a coward who did not wish to die, but die he did, with all the bravery his young heart could muster.

A true dragon rider's death.

With his death, the war of ravens and envoys came to an end, and the war of fire and blood began in earnest.

Daenys Velaryon no longer knew the difference between sacrifice and self-slaughter, nor where the violence against oneself ended. A Kinslayer, a rabid dog; such creatures had no use in a world of peace. Such creatures did not deserve peace. She was a tall child with no lap to crawl into, for who would wish to hold a thing like her, shame clotting in her blood like a curdling sickness. She, with the incessant need to apologize to everyone who ever knew her, for the inconvenience she caused them by making her existence known, walking into a room and searching for an empty seat so no one had to go through the painful act of sitting with her. Velaryons were supposed to be of the sea, but she was a burning ship, a vicinity one had to always flee. If anyone deserved to extinguish themselves in a kamikaze blaze, it was her, the one who would be missed least of all, who was needed least of all when the realm finally knew peace.

Aemond Targaryen was not the same person he used to be. He couldn't possibly be, and yet a part of his very being still belonged to his wife, as it always would. Though he had been absent too long, and the graveyard of old bones and lost kin that spanned between them was far too vast, he still held onto the memory of her, cutting into what he meant to only hold. He was a hunter whose trap had mangled the wrong creature, but it was the law of the world, for a knife and a wound to seek each other out, because they spoke in a language of damage no one else did, and now he owed her a debt. 

An eye for an eye. 

A brother for a brother.

An Eye for an Eye: ao3/wattpad

Before the Sky Falls (prequel): ao3/wattpad

Aesthetics

Fanart 1

Daenys Velaryon fanart

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Epilogue

A/N: I posted this fic for the very first time here on tumblr, and now that it's almost complete (46 chapters have been posted on ao3/wp) I decided I should probably repost it on here because it has been given a complete rewrite since the first version yall saw. I will try to have all the parts posted on here eventually.

This fic has a prequel that explores Aemond&Daenys's childhood together and it is fully complete on ao3/wp.

If you wanna be added to the taglist, feel free to let me know!

Taglist:

[novaursa]

- Note: So, I'll give this a go here. Those who followed my work on AO3 will notice some changes, but the gist is the same. Also, please be kind. If you don't like it, just scroll over it. I post stuff for people to enjoy them and escape the burdens of their lives with me for a while. There is no grand conspiracy here. Just read and relax. Also, this is an AU fanfic and my own personal toxic blend of the show and the book(s).

- Title: zōbrie ānogar

- Rating: Explicit (18+)

- Romance: (Aegon II/OFC)

- Warning: All flags are up for this work. Aegon is also a warning on his own.

- Summary: It was written by Archmaester Gyldayn that on the day Princess Vaella Targaryen was born she was supposed to die. Until she fed upon her twin, Baelon. And when she turned one and five, she sought her end in the lair of Cannibal, in Dragonmont. But instead of feasting upon her, the dragon wept with her. And Archmaester had written a lengthy thesis on how wild dragon recognized a kindred soul in the Princess, as they both dined on their kin.

- Word count: 9 000+

- Parts: 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, Final

Part 1

The air was thick with anticipation and the clang of swords as the tournament raged on in the fields outside King's Landing. Knights clashed in the lists, banners fluttered, and the crowd roared, their cheers echoing through the castle walls. Yet inside the royal chambers, the atmosphere was tense and fraught with fear.

Queen Aemma Arryn was in labor, her cries of pain mingling with the distant sounds of celebration. King Viserys I Targaryen paced the length of the chamber, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, worry etched deeply into his face. This was the moment he had long awaited, the birth of his male heir. But the labor was not progressing as it should.

Maester Mellos hovered nearby, his brow furrowed as he consulted with the midwives. "The babe is in breech, Your Grace," he said, his voice grave. "We cannot turn it. If we do not act soon, we will lose them both."

Viserys halted, his heart pounding. "What can be done?" he demanded, though he feared the answer.

"We can attempt to save the child," Mellos replied, his tone heavy with the weight of the decision. "But it will mean sacrificing the queen."

The king's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Aemma, her face pale and slick with sweat, her eyes filled with agony and desperation. She had given him so much, had borne the burden of his ambitions and dreams. And now, he was faced with a choice that would haunt him forever.

"Aemma," he whispered, kneeling beside her and taking her hand. "My love, they say... they say they can save the babe."

Aemma's eyes met his, wide with fear and pain. "Do what you must," she gasped. "Save our child, Viserys. Promise me."

Viserys felt his heart shatter, but he nodded, pressing a kiss to her trembling hand. "I promise."

The maester and midwives moved quickly, their faces set with grim determination. Viserys stood back, his hands shaking, as they prepared for the terrible task. He could hear the clamor of the tournament outside, a cruel reminder of the celebration that had turned into a nightmare.

The room was filled with the sounds of Aemma's cries and the maester's steady instructions. Viserys felt his world narrowing to this moment, every second stretching into an eternity. And then, a piercing wail broke through the tension.

"It's a boy," one of the midwives exclaimed, holding up the tiny, wriggling form. The babe's cry was strong, a sign of life and promise.

Viserys felt a brief surge of relief, but it was short-lived. "Wait," the maester said, his eyes widening in surprise. "There is another."

The midwives worked quickly, and soon another child was brought into the world, a girl this time, smaller and silent. The room fell into a hushed silence as they examined her, worry etched on their faces.

"She is not crying," one of the midwives whispered, her voice trembling.

Viserys stepped forward, his heart aching. "Vaella," he said softly, naming her after an ancient Targaryen ancestor. "My daughter, Vaella."

The maester nodded, though his expression remained grave. "She lives, but she is weak."

The twins were placed side by side, Baelon strong and crying, while Vaella lay silent and still. Viserys looked down at them, his heart torn between joy and sorrow. He reached out to touch Vaella's tiny hand, and in that moment, her eyes fluttered open, indigo and bright, meeting his with a quiet intensity.

"She will be strong," he murmured, a fierce determination filling him. "She will live."

The room was filled with the mingled sounds of the babes and the distant roar of the tournament, a poignant reminder of the life and death that intertwined in the halls of power. Viserys knew that this day would be remembered, not just for the birth of his heirs, but for the choices and sacrifices that had marked its passing.

...

A few hours later, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen arrived at the nursery, her heart heavy with grief for her mother. She had loved Aemma deeply and the pain of her loss cut through her like a blade. The celebrations outside had turned into whispers of tragedy, and the joy of new life was mingled with the sorrow of death.

Rhaenyra’s steps were slow and measured as she walked through the halls, her mind reeling from the news. She understood, intellectually, why her father had made the choice he did, but it did little to soothe the anger and resentment boiling within her. She had wanted a brother, yes, but not at the cost of her mother’s life. And now, not only had she lost her mother, but her father had chosen a name for her sister without consulting her. She had wanted her sister to be named Visenya, after their legendary ancestor.

As she entered the nursery, she found the room softly lit and quiet, save for the occasional murmur of the maids tending to the infants. Rhaenyra’s gaze fell first upon her brother, Baelon, lying peacefully in his cradle, a small dragon egg nestled beside him, warm and glowing with promise.

"He's so small," she whispered to herself, reaching out to touch Baelon's tiny hand. His fingers curled around hers instinctively, and she felt a pang of tenderness mixed with her sorrow.

Then, she turned her attention to the cradle beside her brother's. Her newborn sister, Vaella, lay there, wide awake and silent. Vaella was pale, almost translucent, with an ethereal quality that unsettled Rhaenyra. Unlike Baelon, there was no dragon egg to keep her warm, yet the babe seemed content, her indigo eyes staring up at Rhaenyra with a calm intensity.

Rhaenyra knelt beside the cradle, her heart aching. "Hello, Vaella," she said softly, her voice trembling. "I'm your sister, Rhaenyra."

"Hello, little sister," Rhaenyra said softly, reaching out to gently stroke Vaella’s cheek. The baby did not react, her gaze unblinking. "Father named you Vaella, but I would have called you Visenya. A name worthy of a queen."

Vaella’s tiny hand moved slightly, as if reaching out, and Rhaenyra took it gently in her own. She marveled at how small and delicate Vaella was, a stark contrast to the strong and robust Baelon.

"She doesn't cry," one of the maids said quietly, approaching Rhaenyra. "She hasn't made a sound since she was born."

Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes never leaving Vaella's face. "She will be strong," she said, echoing her father's earlier words. "She has to be."

The maid hesitated before speaking again. "Your Grace, we were instructed to place a dragon egg in Vaella's cradle as well, but..."

"But what?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone sharp.

"We couldn't find one that seemed... right," the maid replied, her voice faltering. "The eggs are all warm, but none of them felt suitable for her."

Rhaenyra’s gaze hardened. "Then find one," she ordered. "She deserves the same chance as Baelon."

The maid bowed her head and quickly left the room. Rhaenyra turned back to Vaella, her expression softening. "I wanted you to be named Visenya. A name worthy of a queen," she whispered, brushing a finger gently across Vaella's cheek. "But Vaella is a strong name too. You will make it strong."

Vaella’s eyes remained fixed on her, unblinking and serene. Rhaenyra felt a strange sense of calm wash over her, as if the silent babe was imparting some of her tranquility.

She leaned closer, her voice a soft murmur. "I will protect you, Vaella. I will protect both of you. Mother's gone, but you have me. And I will not let anything happen to you."

Rhaenyra stayed there, watching over her siblings, her heart heavy with the weight of her promises and the sorrow of her loss. She knew that the days ahead would be fraught with challenges and dangers, but in that quiet moment, surrounded by the fragile beginnings of new life, she found a glimmer of hope and determination.

The nursery was a haven of calm amidst the storm, and as the first light of dawn began to filter through the windows, Rhaenyra vowed that she would honor her mother's memory by standing strong for her family, no matter the cost.

...

The next day dawned with a hushed stillness that seemed to permeate the entire Red Keep. The jubilation of the previous day had been tempered by the tragedy of Queen Aemma's death, but the court still held a flicker of hope in the promise of the newborn twins. Servants moved quietly through the halls, attending to their duties with a solemn air.

In the nursery, the maids and servants who had tended to the twins throughout the night were greeted by a scene of unexpected and harrowing sorrow. The once lively Baelon, who had been sleeping peacefully beside his dragon egg, was now eerily still in his cradle. His tiny chest no longer rose and fell with breath, his eyes closed in eternal slumber.

The discovery sent a shockwave through the nursery. Gasps of horror and grief filled the room as the realization settled in. The King's heir, his long-awaited son, was dead. The dragon egg that had been placed beside him now seemed like a cruel mockery of the life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

"Fetch the Maester," one of the servants choked out, her hands trembling as she tried to comprehend the tragedy before her. "Quickly!"

Maester Mellos arrived swiftly, his face a mask of concern as he took in the scene. He approached Baelon's cradle with a heavy heart, gently placing his fingers against the babe's tiny neck, hoping against hope for a sign of life. There was none. He bowed his head, his heart sinking with the weight of the loss.

As Mellos turned to the cradle beside Baelon's, a sudden and piercing wail filled the air. It was a sound so unexpected and startling that it caused everyone in the room to freeze. Vaella, the silent and still babe, had come alive with a cry that seemed to resonate with a power far beyond her fragile form.

"By the Seven," Mellos muttered, his eyes wide with astonishment. He moved to Vaella's side, noting the newfound vitality in her eyes, the strength in her cries. She was more alive now than she had been since her birth.

The servants exchanged uneasy glances, their grief for Baelon now mingled with a sense of unease. Mellos looked down at the wailing Vaella, his mind racing. It was an old superstition, a whisper from the past: when one twin died, the other sometimes took their soul, their strength. It was said to be a bad omen, a dark portent.

Mellos kept his thoughts to himself, though the notion unsettled him deeply. "It is a tragedy," he said aloud, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "The Princess Vaella has found her voice, it seems, but the loss of Prince Baelon is a heavy blow to us all."

One of the servants, a young woman with tear-streaked cheeks, looked at Mellos with a mixture of fear and confusion. "What does it mean, Maester?" she asked. "Why now?"

Mellos sighed, shaking his head. "I do not know," he admitted. "But we must inform the King. This loss... it will cripple him."

The servants nodded solemnly, their hearts heavy with the task ahead. As they prepared to deliver the devastating news to King Viserys, Mellos turned back to Vaella. The babe had quieted, her cries giving way to a strange, serene silence. He couldn't shake the feeling that something profound had shifted in the balance of life and death within this room.

"I will note this in my journal," Mellos murmured to himself, making a mental note to document the strange events surrounding the twins. He would keep his suspicions to himself for now, but the memory of Vaella's piercing wail would haunt him for years to come.

As the maids and servants moved to carry out their somber duties, the weight of the tragedy settled over the Red Keep like a shroud. The joyous celebrations of new life had been overshadowed by death, and the realm would feel the ripples of this loss for years to come. King Viserys, now a father and a widower, would have to navigate the treacherous waters of grief and responsibility, his heart forever marked by the sorrow of this day.

...

The day of the funeral dawned cold and overcast, the sky heavy with clouds that mirrored the somber mood of the assembled mourners. All gathered before the grand pyre that had been erected outside the Red Keep, a stark testament to the loss of both Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon. The scent of incense and the crackling of torches filled the air, but a profound silence hung over the gathering, broken only by the distant sound of waves against the shore.

King Viserys stood closest to the pyre, his shoulders slumped and his eyes red-rimmed from sleepless nights of weeping. His grief was a palpable thing, weighing down the very air around him. He seemed almost a ghost of himself, hollowed out by the dual tragedies that had befallen him.

A little further down, Rhaenyra stood with her newborn sister Vaella cradled in her arms. She held the babe tightly, as if drawing strength from her tiny, warm presence. Vaella was silent, her indigo eyes wide and watchful, taking in the scene with an uncanny stillness.

Behind Rhaenyra, Prince Daemon Targaryen watched with a mixture of sorrow and concern. He stepped forward, placing a hand gently on Rhaenyra’s shoulder. "It's time," he said softly. "Your father needs you now."

Rhaenyra turned her tear-streaked face towards her uncle, her eyes filled with a mixture of pain and resignation. "I will never be a son," she whispered, her voice trembling. "And neither will Vaella."

Daemon's expression softened, and he squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You are stronger than any son, Rhaenyra. And your father needs that strength now more than ever."

Taking a deep breath, Rhaenyra nodded. She stepped forward, feeling the weight of her duty pressing down upon her young shoulders. She could feel the eyes of the gathered nobles and courtiers upon her, their silent expectation adding to her burden. She glanced at her father, who seemed lost in his own world of sorrow, barely aware of his surroundings.

With tears streaming down her face, Rhaenyra looked up at Syrax, her beloved dragon, who waited patiently beside the pyre. The golden beast’s eyes glowed with a fierce intelligence, and she seemed to understand the gravity of the moment.

"Dracarys," Rhaenyra commanded, her voice breaking.

In an instant, Syrax unleashed a torrent of dragonfire. The flames roared to life, consuming the pyre in a brilliant blaze that lit up the overcast sky. The heat was intense, and the air filled with the acrid scent of burning wood and flesh. The mourners stepped back, shielding their faces from the searing heat, but Rhaenyra stood her ground, her eyes fixed on the flames.

The crackling of the fire was accompanied by the soft sobs and murmurs of those gathered. The loss of their queen and the young prince was a blow to the realm, and the grief of the people was a reflection of the profound sorrow felt by their king.

Rhaenyra looked down at Vaella, her tiny face illuminated by the firelight. "You are all I have left of her," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her sister’s forehead. "I will protect you, always."

Vaella gazed up at her, silent and solemn, as if she understood the weight of her sister's words. Rhaenyra felt a fierce protectiveness surge within her. She might never be the son her father had wished for, but she would be strong for him, for her family, and for her realm.

As the pyre burned, Rhaenyra stood with her sister in her arms, a silent vow forming in her heart. She would honor her mother's memory, and she would ensure that Vaella grew up knowing the love and strength that had defined their mother. The flames roared higher, a testament to the fire that burned within the Targaryen bloodline, a fire that Rhaenyra vowed would never be extinguished.

...

Six months had passed since the tragic deaths of Queen Aemma and Prince Baelon, and King Viserys had made a decision that shocked the realm. He chose to marry Alicent Hightower, the daughter of his Hand, Otto Hightower. This alliance was seen by many as a strategic move to stabilize the kingdom, but it also stirred whispers and discontent among the nobles. In a further surprising move, Viserys named his daughter Rhaenyra as the heir to the Iron Throne, a decision that defied tradition and set tongues wagging throughout Westeros.

Another year passed, and Queen Alicent gave birth to a son, Aegon. The realm celebrated the birth of a male heir, but the decision to place him in the nursery with Vaella, who continued to grow normally and thrive, added an interesting dynamic to the royal family. Despite Rhaenyra's attempts to give her sister a dragon egg to hatch, Vaella showed no interest in any of them. After several unsuccessful tries, Rhaenyra stopped bringing the eggs, accepting that Vaella was different in her own way.

The connection between Aegon and Vaella was immediate and profound. Vaella's quiet presence seemed to calm the newborn prince, who basked in the comfort of his half-sister's company. This bond often agitated Rhaenyra, who felt a mixture of protectiveness and jealousy. She would frequently 'steal' Vaella away from the nursery, taking her for walks around the Red Keep or in the gardens, much to the dismay and complaints of the servants. Aegon would become fussy and cry until Vaella was returned to him, a fact that both frustrated and amused Rhaenyra.

One sunny afternoon, Rhaenyra and Vaella were walking through the lush gardens of the Red Keep. The scent of blooming flowers filled the air, and the gentle rustling of leaves provided a serene backdrop. Vaella, now a curious toddler with pale blonde hair and indigo eyes, held tightly to Rhaenyra's hand, her steps wobbly but determined.

"Do you like the flowers, Vaella?" Rhaenyra asked, kneeling down to pick a bright red rose and handing it to her sister.

Vaella nodded, her eyes wide with wonder as she examined the flower. "Pretty," she murmured, her voice soft and clear.

Rhaenyra smiled, but her expression quickly turned somber. "You know, sometimes I wish things were different," she said, more to herself than to Vaella. "I wish Mother were here to see you grow. She would have loved you so much."

Vaella looked up at her sister, her indigo eyes filled with an understanding far beyond her years. "Mama," she said simply, reaching up to touch Rhaenyra's face.

Rhaenyra's heart ached with the weight of her sister's innocence and the loss they both shared. "Yes, Mama," she whispered, hugging Vaella tightly. "But you have me, and I will always be here for you."

As they continued their walk, they passed a group of servants who were nervously whispering among themselves. One of them, a young maid, approached Rhaenyra hesitantly. "Your Grace, Prince Aegon is very fussy. He won't stop crying without Princess Vaella."

Rhaenyra sighed, feeling the familiar pang of frustration. "He can wait a little longer," she replied curtly. "Vaella needs fresh air and sunshine."

The maid bowed her head, retreating with a worried glance. Rhaenyra led Vaella to a shaded bench under a sprawling oak tree, lifting her sister onto her lap. "You know, Vaella, sometimes I feel like I can't do anything right," she confessed, brushing a strand of hair from Vaella's face. "But when I'm with you, it feels like everything is okay."

Vaella looked up at her with a solemn expression. "Love Nyra," she said, wrapping her small arms around her sister's neck.

Rhaenyra felt tears prick her eyes, but she blinked them away, smiling through her sadness. "And I love you, my sweet Vaella," she whispered. "Always."

As they sat together in the peaceful garden, the bond between the sisters grew stronger, a beacon of light amidst the complexities of court life and the looming shadows of their past. The challenges ahead were many, but in each other's company, they found solace and strength to face whatever the future held.

...

Two years had passed, and Vaella continued to grow normally, blossoming into a lively child. She spent her days in the company of her half-brother Aegon, who refused to be parted from her for long. This inseparable bond often infuriated Rhaenyra, who cherished her moments alone with Vaella but had to contend with Aegon's tantrums whenever his sister was taken away.

Despite Rhaenyra's best efforts, Aegon and Vaella were rarely separated. The young prince's attachment to his half-sister was so strong that the servants, exasperated by Aegon's constant cries, eventually allowed the two children to sleep in the same crib. It was the only way to ensure Aegon's peaceful slumber.

In the royal chambers, Alicent Hightower, now visibly pregnant with her second child, often expressed her concerns to King Viserys about this arrangement. One evening, as she lay in bed with Viserys beside her, she broached the subject once more.

"This is not healthy, Viserys," Alicent said, her voice tinged with frustration. "Aegon is far too dependent on Vaella. They should not be sleeping in the same crib. It's not proper."

Viserys, weary from the day's duties, sighed and rubbed his temples. "They're just children, Alicent. They'll grow out of it. Let them be."

Alicent's eyes flashed with irritation. "It's not just about them growing out of it. It sets a bad precedent. Aegon should be learning to be independent, not clinging to his sister all the time."

Viserys shrugged, clearly not wanting to engage in another argument. "They're happy, and they're safe. That's all that matters."

Alicent opened her mouth to retort, but then thought better of it. Instead, she turned away, fuming silently. Her pregnancy had made her more sensitive to the disturbances in the household, and Aegon's dependency on Vaella was just one of many concerns weighing on her mind.

Meanwhile, in the nursery, Rhaenyra watched as Aegon and Vaella played together. Aegon's laughter echoed through the room as Vaella chased him, her own giggles filling the air. Rhaenyra felt a mix of love and exasperation as she approached them.

"Vaella, come with me," Rhaenyra said, holding out her hand. "Let's go for a walk."

Aegon's face immediately crumpled, and he clung to Vaella. "No! Vaella stays here!"

Rhaenyra's patience was wearing thin. "Aegon, you can't always have her with you. She needs to spend time with me too."

Aegon shook his head vehemently, his eyes filling with tears. "No! Vaella stays!"

Rhaenyra sighed, knowing that any attempt to separate them would end in another tantrum. She knelt down and gently pried Aegon's hands from Vaella. "I'll bring her back soon, I promise."

As she led Vaella out of the nursery, the sound of Aegon's wails echoed down the hallway. The servants exchanged resigned looks, knowing it was only a matter of time before Vaella would be brought back to soothe the young prince.

In the gardens, Rhaenyra and Vaella walked hand in hand. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting dappled shadows on the path. Rhaenyra looked down at her sister, her heart aching with a mix of love and frustration.

"Why do you let him cling to you so much, Vaella?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone softer now that they were alone. "Don't you want to have time just for us?"

Vaella looked up at her with wide, innocent eyes. "Aegon needs me," she said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "He cries when I'm not there."

Rhaenyra's heart softened at her sister's words. She knelt down to Vaella's level, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I know he does, but I need you too, Vaella. You're my sister, and I love you."

Vaella smiled and wrapped her arms around Rhaenyra's neck. "I love you too, Nyra. Always."

As they embraced, Rhaenyra felt a renewed sense of determination. She would find a way to balance her love for Vaella with the demands of their unusual family dynamic. No matter the challenges, she would protect and cherish her sister, just as she had promised on that fateful day by the pyre.

Back in the royal chambers, Alicent lay awake, her thoughts troubled. She placed a hand on her growing belly and sighed. The future seemed more uncertain than ever, but she vowed to do whatever it took to ensure the safety and well-being of her children. As she drifted off to sleep, her mind remained filled with the complexities of their intertwined destinies, each step a delicate dance in the ever-shifting sands of power and family.

...

Vaella was six years old, and her fascination with dragons had only grown with time. Despite her lack of interest in dragon eggs, her eyes would light up whenever she saw Syrax, Rhaenyra’s majestic golden dragon. One crisp morning, Rhaenyra decided it was time for her sister to experience the thrill of flying.

Rhaenyra led Vaella to the Dragonpit, where Syrax awaited. The dragon’s eyes gleamed with intelligence as Rhaenyra approached, her scales shimmering in the early morning light. Vaella’s excitement was palpable, her small hand gripping Rhaenyra’s tightly.

“Are you ready, Vaella?” Rhaenyra asked, a smile playing on her lips.

Vaella nodded eagerly. “Yes, Rhaenyra. I want to fly!”

As Rhaenyra helped Vaella climb onto Syrax’s back, the young girl’s laughter filled the air, a sound of pure joy and exhilaration. With a final check to ensure Vaella was secure, Rhaenyra mounted behind her and gave Syrax the signal to take flight.

The dragon’s powerful wings beat against the air, lifting them off the ground. Vaella’s eyes widened in wonder as the Red Keep grew smaller below them, the world unfolding in a breathtaking panorama. The wind whipped through their hair, and Vaella’s laughter echoed in the skies.

Meanwhile, back in the nursery, Aegon was throwing a fit. He had watched in dismay as Rhaenyra took Vaella away, his cries growing louder with each passing moment. Alicent, now heavily pregnant with her third child, tried to soothe him, but Aegon was inconsolable.

“Where is Vaella?” Aegon wailed, tears streaming down his face. “I want Vaella!”

Alicent knelt beside her son, her patience wearing thin. “Aegon, you need to learn to be apart from Vaella. She has other things to do, and you need to be strong without her.”

Aegon shook his head vehemently, his face red with anger and frustration. “No! You can’t take Vaella away from me! Rhaenyra can’t take her away either!”

In his tantrum, Aegon grabbed one of his toys—a wooden dragon—and threw it across the room, where it shattered against the wall. His screams grew louder, and Alicent’s attempts to calm him seemed only to fuel his rage.

“Aegon, please,” Alicent said, her voice strained. “This behavior is unacceptable. You must learn to control yourself.”

But Aegon was beyond reason, his cries echoing through the halls of the Red Keep. Alicent stood, her hands clenched at her sides, her irritation mounting. She had tried to reason with Viserys about their son’s dependence on Vaella, but he had merely shrugged it off, much to her annoyance.

As Aegon continued to scream for Rhaenyra to bring Vaella back, Alicent felt a surge of frustration. She stormed out of the nursery, determined to find Viserys and make him understand the gravity of the situation.

She found him in the council chamber, discussing matters of state with her father, Otto Hightower, and other advisors. Ignoring the decorum, Alicent marched up to him, her eyes blazing with anger.

“Viserys, we need to talk,” she said, her voice low but fierce.

Viserys looked up, surprised by her sudden appearance. “Alicent, what is it?”

“It’s Aegon,” she said, struggling to keep her composure. “He’s in the nursery throwing a tantrum because Vaella is not there. He’s become too dependent on her, and it’s not healthy. You need to take this seriously.”

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. “Alicent, they’re just children. Siblings often form close bonds.”

“This is more than that, and you know it,” Alicent snapped. “He can’t be apart from her for even a moment without falling apart. This dependency will only grow if we don’t address it now.”

Viserys looked at her, seeing the worry and frustration etched on her face. He nodded slowly. “Alright, I’ll speak with Aegon. But give them time, Alicent. They’re still so young.”

Alicent sighed, feeling a mixture of relief and lingering frustration. “Thank you, Viserys. I just want what’s best for them.”

Meanwhile, high above the Red Keep, Rhaenyra and Vaella soared through the skies on Syrax. The city of King’s Landing spread out below them like a tapestry, and Vaella’s eyes sparkled with wonder.

“This is amazing, Rhaenyra!” Vaella shouted over the wind, her laughter infectious.

Rhaenyra smiled, her heart swelling with pride and love for her sister. “I knew you’d love it, Vaella. There’s nothing quite like flying.”

As they flew, Rhaenyra felt a sense of peace. Despite the challenges and frustrations that awaited them on the ground, up here, they were free. She vowed to cherish these moments with Vaella, to protect and nurture her sister as best she could. For now, they had the sky, and that was enough.

...

As the sun began to set, casting a golden hue over the Red Keep, Rhaenyra and Vaella returned from their exhilarating flight on Syrax. The dragon landed gracefully in the courtyard, and Rhaenyra helped Vaella down, her heart still racing from the thrill of their adventure. The moment their feet touched the ground, Aegon came running toward them, his face streaked with tears and his cries echoing off the stone walls.

"Vaella!" Aegon wailed, rushing to her and wrapping his small arms tightly around her. "You’re back!"

Vaella hugged him back, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. "I’m here, Aegon. I’m here."

Rhaenyra watched, her annoyance simmering beneath the surface. "Aegon, you can’t just cling to Vaella like that all the time," she said, her tone sharp. "She needs her own space too."

Aegon looked up at Rhaenyra, his eyes filled with defiance and tears. "You can’t take her away from me! She’s mine!"

Rhaenyra’s patience was wearing thin. She knew it was foolish to argue with such a young child, but the possessiveness in Aegon’s voice grated on her. Vaella was the last connection she had to their mother, and the thought of sharing her sister in this way was intolerable.

"Vaella is not yours, Aegon," Rhaenyra snapped, her voice cold. "She is her own person, and you don’t own her."

Aegon’s face crumpled, and he let out another wail, his small body shaking with the force of his tantrum. "No! No! Vaella is mine! You can’t have her!"

The servants in the courtyard exchanged weary glances, clearly exasperated by the scene unfolding before them. Vaella stood in the middle, unsure of what to do, her eyes darting between her sister and her brother.

"Aegon," Vaella said softly, trying to soothe him. "It’s okay. I’m here now."

Alicent, drawn by the noise, arrived in the courtyard, her face set in a mixture of concern and frustration. "What is going on here?" she demanded, her gaze shifting from Rhaenyra to Aegon, who was still clinging to Vaella.

Rhaenyra’s eyes flashed with anger as she looked at Alicent. "Your son doesn’t understand that Vaella isn’t his to command," she said sharply. "He needs to learn some boundaries."

Alicent’s expression hardened. "Rhaenyra, he’s just a child. He doesn’t understand these things yet."

Rhaenyra’s temper flared, and she took a step forward. "And he never will if you keep coddling him like this! Vaella is not his to cling to every time he wants. She’s my sister too, and I won’t have her treated like a toy!"

Alicent’s face went pale, and she took a deep breath, trying to maintain her composure. "This isn’t helping anyone, Rhaenyra. We need to find a way to help Aegon understand without making things worse."

Rhaenyra’s eyes filled with tears of frustration. "Vaella is all I have left of my mother. I won’t let him take her from me."

With that, Rhaenyra turned on her heel and stormed away, leaving the courtyard in tense silence. Alicent watched her go, a sigh escaping her lips. She turned her attention back to Aegon, who was still clinging to Vaella, his sobs quieter but no less heartbreaking.

"Come here, Aegon," Alicent said softly, kneeling down to his level. "It’s okay. Vaella isn’t going anywhere."

Aegon looked up at her, his face streaked with tears. "But she left me. Rhaenyra took her."

Alicent gently pried his hands from Vaella and pulled him into a hug. "I know, darling. But sometimes Vaella needs to do things with Rhaenyra too. You’ll see her again soon, I promise."

Aegon nodded, sniffling, but his grip on Vaella’s hand remained tight. Vaella, sensing his distress, squeezed his hand back, her expression one of quiet understanding.

Alicent sighed, looking at the two children. "Let’s get you both inside. It’s getting late."

As she led them back into the Red Keep, she couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of worry. The tensions between Rhaenyra and Aegon were growing, and she knew that unless something changed, these small conflicts could become much larger as they all grew older. For now, she focused on comforting her son and ensuring that Vaella felt secure, hoping that they would find a way to navigate these troubled waters together.

...

Fifteen-year-old Vaella Targaryen sat quietly beside her father, King Viserys I, in his chambers. The room was filled with the intricate model of Old Valyria that Viserys had been painstakingly working on for years. The delicate spires and towers of the ancient city gleamed under the soft light of the candles, casting intricate shadows on the walls. Vaella's small hands delicately placed a tiny bridge between two towers, her face scrunched up in concentration.

Viserys, now looking much older than his years, his health visibly deteriorating, watched his daughter with a fond smile. Despite his efforts to hide it, Vaella knew he was unwell. The signs were clear in the way he moved, slower and more deliberate, and the occasional wince of pain that crossed his features.

"You're doing wonderfully, Vaella," Viserys said, his voice soft but filled with pride. "You have a steady hand."

Vaella smiled up at him, her indigo eyes bright. "Thank you, Father. I love working on this with you."

Viserys nodded, his gaze drifting to the model before him. "It's a piece of our history. A connection to our roots." He paused, then turned to her. "How was your time with your nephews, Jacaerys and Lucerys?"

Vaella's face lit up. "It was interesting. Maester Mellos was teaching us about Targaryen history, the stories of our ancestors. Then Laenor told us about the great sailors who ventured all the way to the Summer Isles. I love hearing about their adventures."

Viserys chuckled, a raspy sound that ended in a slight cough. "I'm glad you're learning and enjoying your time with them. It's important to understand where we come from." He hesitated for a moment before asking, "And how is Aegon handling the changes?"

Vaella's smile faded slightly, and she frowned, her brow furrowing. "Not very well, Father. He doesn't like it when I'm away. He gets upset and still sometimes throws tantrums."

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aegon has always struggled with separation. He has a strong bond with you."

Vaella nodded, looking thoughtful. "I know he loves me, and I love him too. But sometimes it's hard. He doesn't understand that I need to spend time with others too."

Viserys placed a gentle hand on Vaella's shoulder. "It's not easy being the center of someone's world. Aegon needs to learn that you have your own life, your own interests."

Vaella looked up at him, her eyes filled with determination. "I'll help him understand, Father. I'll be patient with him."

Viserys smiled, his eyes softening. "You're wise beyond your years, Vaella. Your kindness and patience will serve you well." He paused, his expression turning more serious. "And how are you, my dear? How are you handling all these changes?"

Vaella shrugged slightly. "It's a lot, but I have you and Rhaenyra. And I love spending time with my nephews. They make me laugh and I enjoy learning with them."

Viserys nodded, feeling a pang of pride and sorrow for his young daughter. "You're a strong girl, Vaella. Stronger than you know. Always remember that."

Vaella hugged her father tightly, feeling the frailty in his embrace but also the warmth of his love. "I will, Father. I'll always remember."

...

In a quieter corner of the Red Keep, Aegon paced back and forth, his young face twisted in frustration. His younger brother, Aemond, sat nearby, trying to focus on a book but finding it impossible with Aegon's incessant complaining.

"They took her again, Aemond! They took Vaella to spend more time with Rhaenyra and her bastards," Aegon fumed, kicking at a loose stone on the floor. "They think those boys are more worthy than me!"

Aemond looked up from his book, his blue eyes sharp. "You shouldn't talk like that, Aegon. It's dangerous."

Aegon scoffed, his face a mask of indignation. "Why shouldn't I? Mother calls them bastards all the time. Everyone knows it's true."

Aemond closed his book with a sigh, setting it aside. "Just because Mother says it doesn't mean you should repeat it. It's disrespectful, and it will get you into trouble."

Aegon glared at his brother, his anger unabated. "You’re just jealous because Vaella likes me more than you."

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued despite his annoyance. "Why is Vaella so special to you, Aegon? Why do you always want her around?"

Aegon’s expression hardened. "You're stupid for even asking that, Aemond. She just is. Nobody loves me like Vaella does. She understands me."

Aemond rolled his eyes, leaning back against the wall. "That's stupid. She's just a girl. She can’t make everything better."

Aegon stepped closer, his fists clenched at his sides. "Shut up, Aemond. You don't understand anything."

Aemond shrugged, his expression indifferent. "Maybe I don't. But I heard Maester Mellos talking to Mother once. He said Vaella ate her twin. Maybe that’s why you think she’s so special. She’s got something extra from her dead brother."

Aegon’s face contorted with a mixture of horror and fascination. "What are you talking about?"

Aemond smirked, enjoying the shift in power. "It’s true. Mellos said Vaella didn't cry when she was born, not until her brother died. Maybe she took something from him. Maybe that’s why you feel so close to her."

Aegon stood silent for a moment, absorbing his brother’s words. Then, a twisted smile spread across his face. "Good. If her dead brother gave her something extra, then it's better for me. He would have taken her from me too."

Aemond frowned, not expecting that reaction. "You’re strange, Aegon. You know that?"

Aegon shrugged, a hint of madness in his eyes. "Maybe. But Vaella is mine. And no one will take her from me. Not Rhaenyra, not anyone."

Aemond sighed, shaking his head. "You’re going to get us all in trouble one day, Aegon. Mark my words."

Aegon ignored his brother, his mind already returning to thoughts of Vaella and the frustration of being separated from her. He would find a way to keep her close, no matter what it took.

…

The morning sun cast long shadows over the Dragonpit as Jacaerys, Lucerys, Aegon, Aemond, and Vaella made their way to the massive structure. The air was filled with the heady scent of dragon musk and the sound of wings flapping. Inside the pit, three dragons awaited their riders, their scales shimmering in the sunlight. Vaella stood quietly by Aemond's side, the two of them the only ones without dragons to bond with. While Aemond's frustration was evident, Vaella seemed content, her serene demeanor a stark contrast to her younger brother's visible agitation.

As the dragons were led out one by one, Vaella watched with a mix of awe and quiet longing. When Sunfyre appeared, his golden scales glinting brilliantly, Aegon eagerly grabbed Vaella's hand and pulled her along. "Come on, Vaella, let's attend to Sunfyre together."

Vaella allowed herself to be led, her eyes widening as they approached the magnificent dragon. She gently stroked Sunfyre's scales, feeling the warmth emanating from his body. Aegon stood beside her, his pride evident as he showed off his bond with the dragon. Vaella smiled softly, her affection for her brother momentarily overshadowing her usual frustrations with him.

Later, once the dragons were fed and content, Aegon let go of Vaella's hand and turned his attention to Aemond. There was a mischievous glint in his eye that Vaella did not like. Aegon, Jacaerys, and Lucerys huddled together, whispering and giggling before calling Aemond over.

"Come here, Aemond!" Aegon shouted, his voice filled with feigned excitement. "We found a dragon for you!"

Aemond's eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and suspicion. He approached cautiously, glancing back at Vaella for reassurance. She gave him a small, supportive smile, but her unease grew.

As Aemond drew closer, the boys stepped aside to reveal a pig adorned with makeshift dragon wings and a painted snout. "Behold, the Pink Dread!" Aegon announced with mock grandeur, barely able to contain his laughter.

Jacaerys and Lucerys burst into laughter, pointing at the pig and doubling over with mirth. Aemond's face turned bright red with humiliation, his eyes welling up with tears. Vaella's expression darkened, her initial amusement giving way to anger.

"Aegon, Jace, Luke, that's enough!" Vaella's voice was sharp, cutting through the laughter. "How dare you humiliate Aemond like this?"

Aegon's laughter faltered as he met Vaella's furious gaze. "It was just a joke, Vaella. We didn't mean—"

"Do I deserve the same?" Vaella interrupted, her voice cold. "I don't have a dragon either. Is this how you plan to treat me too?"

Aegon stumbled over his words, his face turning pale. "No, Vaella, I didn't mean—"

But Vaella had already turned on her heel, her expression stormy as she walked away from the Dragonpit. Aegon rushed after her, desperation in his voice. "Vaella, wait! Please, don't be mad at me. I didn't mean to hurt anyone."

Vaella stopped and spun around to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. "You always do this, Aegon. You act without thinking and hurt the people who care about you. Aemond looks up to you, and this is how you treat him?"

Aegon reached out, but Vaella stepped back, shaking her head. "I thought you were better than this."

"Vaella, I'm sorry," Aegon pleaded, his voice trembling. "I didn't mean to hurt you or Aemond. Please, forgive me."

Vaella took a deep breath, her anger still simmering but her voice softening slightly. "Apologize to Aemond. Make it right with him. And think before you act next time."

Aegon nodded, his eyes filled with regret. "I will. I promise."

As Vaella turned and walked away, Aegon stood there, watching her go with a heavy heart. He knew he had to make amends, not just with Aemond but also with Vaella. The bonds of family were fragile, and he had to learn to cherish and protect them.

Inside the Dragonpit, Aemond stood alone, his shoulders slumped in defeat. Vaella approached him, her expression softening. "I'm sorry they treated you like that, Aemond. You deserve better."

Aemond looked up, his eyes filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Vaella. You're the only one who seems to understand."

Vaella hugged her brother tightly. "We'll find our own dragons one day, Aemond. Until then, we have each other."

As they walked away together, the bond between them strengthened, a promise of loyalty and support in a world filled with uncertainty and strife.

…

That evening, Vaella sat in her chambers, the events of the day weighing heavily on her mind. The candles flickered softly, casting gentle shadows on the walls, as she tried to find some semblance of peace. Her thoughts were interrupted by a quiet knock on the door.

“Vaella, it’s me,” Aegon’s voice came through the door, hesitant yet determined.

Vaella sighed, already knowing why he was here. “Come in, Aegon.”

Aegon entered, closing the door behind him. He looked uncertain, his usual bravado tempered by a mix of guilt and frustration. “I wanted to apologize again. The idea was Jace and Luke’s, not mine.”

Vaella made a grimace, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Then why does it reek of you, Aegon?”

Aegon’s irritation flared, and he stepped closer, his frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why do you care so much about annoying Aemond? He’s just—”

“He’s my brother too, Aegon,” Vaella interrupted sharply, her eyes blazing. “Just like you are.”

Aegon pressed on, his voice lower but intense. “But you love me more, don’t you?”

Vaella frowned, seeing the familiar possessiveness in Aegon’s eyes. It had not diminished with time, if anything, it had grown. “Aegon, I will always love you. But I also love Jace, Luke, Aemond, and even little Joffrey. We’re all family.”

Aegon stepped even closer, their faces now mere inches apart. “But you love me more, right?” he asked, his voice dropping to an intimate whisper.

Vaella’s heart pounded in her chest, her emotions a whirlwind of love, frustration, and understanding. She met his gaze steadily, her voice soft but firm. “Yes, Aegon. I love you more.”

Aegon’s tense expression softened, and he leaned in to kiss her forehead, a gesture that held both affection and possessiveness. He then began to shed his attire, his movements slow and deliberate. Vaella watched him, her own feelings a mix of resignation and affection.

“Aegon,” she warned gently, “if your mother finds out we’re sharing a bed again, she’ll yell at both of us.”

Aegon shrugged, climbing into her bed with a dismissive smile. “Let her yell. I don’t care. Come here.”

Vaella’s resolve wavered, and eventually, she couldn’t help but smile. She slipped into the bed beside him, the ritual familiar and comforting. They had been sharing a bed since they were babes, a habit that had persisted despite Alicent’s disapproval.

As they lay together, Aegon wrapped his arms around Vaella, holding her close. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. The warmth of his embrace was soothing, a reminder of their unbreakable bond despite the chaos around them.

They didn’t fall asleep right away. Instead, they lay in the quiet, drawing comfort from each other’s presence. Vaella felt Aegon’s breath against her hair, his hold on her gentle yet possessive. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to relax for the first time that day.

“Vaella,” Aegon murmured, his voice soft in the darkness. “I promise I’ll never let anyone come between us. Not Rhaenyra, not anyone.”

Vaella sighed, her heart aching with a mixture of love and sadness. “I know, Aegon. And I’ll always be here for you.”

They held onto each other, finding solace in their shared closeness. The world outside might be fraught with tension and uncertainty, but in this moment, they were simply a brother and sister, bound by love and loyalty.

…

Alicent Hightower strode through the dimly lit corridors of the Red Keep, her frustration mounting with each step. She had been looking for her eldest son, Aegon, to confront him about the cruel prank he and Rhaenyra’s sons had played on Aemond. Finding his chambers empty had only intensified her annoyance, as she knew exactly where he would be—once again with his half-sister, Vaella.

Alicent had tried her best to separate the two as they grew older, understanding the potential complications their bond could bring. But no matter her efforts, Aegon always found his way back to Vaella, their connection unbroken. She couldn't help but recall Maester Mellos’ words about Vaella being strange since birth, and the implications of that observation gnawed at her.

Meanwhile, in Vaella's chambers, the atmosphere was a stark contrast to Alicent's rising tension. Vaella and Aegon lay in her bed, still entwined in their embrace. Aegon’s lips trailed down her cheek to her neck, eliciting a soft hitch in her breath. She clutched at him gently, feeling the warmth of his body against hers.

“Aegon,” she whispered, her voice breathy with both pleasure and concern, “promise me again you won’t mock Aemond like that again.”

Aegon’s kisses paused for a moment as he sighed. “I promise,” he murmured before resuming his tender exploration. His hands roamed over her curves, their touch growing more familiar and intimate with time. His movements against her nightgown became more urgent, her quiet moans filling the room.

Just as Aegon’s urgency peaked and he found release, spilling his seed onto Vaella’s thigh, the door to her chambers swung open. Both Aegon and Vaella sat up abruptly, alarmed and disheveled.

Alicent’s worried frown deepened as she took in the sight before her. She quickly closed the door behind her, her gaze intense. “Did you do it?” she demanded, her voice strained with a mix of anger and fear.

Vaella blushed deeply, realizing the insinuation behind Alicent's question. “No, Mother. We didn’t… we never go that far,” she stammered, her words tumbling over each other.

Alicent sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly with relief, though her irritation remained. She turned her focus to Aegon. “And what about the pig, Aegon? The Pink Dread?”

Aegon deflected, his tone dismissive. “It was Jace and Luke’s idea.”

Alicent scolded him, her eyes narrowing. “Don’t lie to me, Aegon. You were just as much a part of it.”

Aegon rolled his eyes and lay back on the bed, clearly unwilling to continue the conversation. “Fine, whatever,” he muttered.

Vaella interjected, her voice calm but firm. “I made him promise not to mock Aemond again, Mother.”

Alicent’s gaze softened slightly as she looked at Vaella. Despite the tension, she recognized the sincerity in her stepdaughter’s words. “Good. That’s good,” she said quietly. Before leaving, she turned back to them, her expression resolute. “This is the last time you two will share a bed.”

Vaella nodded, understanding the gravity of Alicent’s words but knowing deep down it was a promise neither she nor Aegon intended to keep. “Yes, Mother,” she replied.

Alicent gave them one last look, a mixture of concern and resignation in her eyes, before she left the room, closing the door softly behind her.

As the door clicked shut, Aegon sat up again, his demeanor shifting from defiance to a more contemplative mood. “She won’t keep us apart, you know,” he said softly, reaching out to take Vaella’s hand.

Vaella squeezed his hand gently, a small smile playing on her lips. “I know, Aegon. But we should be careful.”

He nodded, pulling her closer. “Always,” he promised.

They lay back down together, the quiet of the room wrapping around them like a comforting blanket. In the stillness of the night, they found solace in each other's presence, knowing that no matter what, they would face the world together.

…

The meeting of the small council was underway in the grand chamber of the Red Keep. The air was thick with the scent of burning candles and the tension of unresolved conflicts. Rhaenyra, dressed in her regal black and red attire, sat at the head of the table, her face composed but her eyes betraying the urgency of her thoughts. King Viserys, though visibly weakened by his illness, was present, his presence lending an air of gravitas to the proceedings. Alicent Hightower, her face a mask of controlled composure, sat beside him, her eyes watchful and calculating.

As the discussions turned to matters of succession and alliances, Rhaenyra seized the moment to present her proposal. "To ease the tensions between our families," she began, her voice steady and clear, "I propose that my son, Jacaerys, be betrothed to Helaena. This union would strengthen our family bonds."

A murmur ran through the room, and all eyes turned to Alicent, who clenched her hands in her lap to keep her composure. "And to further show goodwill," Rhaenyra continued, "when Syrax lays her next clutch of eggs, Aemond may choose an egg for himself."

Alicent's face tightened, her distress at the idea of her daughter marrying a boy widely rumored to be a bastard threatening to show. She forced herself to remain calm, her voice measured as she replied. "While your proposal is... thoughtful, Princess, I counter with a suggestion of my own. Let Aegon and Vaella be engaged to each other instead."

Rhaenyra's eyes flashed with anger, but she controlled her temper. "That is out of the question," she said firmly. "Vaella deserves more than a life tied to Aegon."

Viserys, who had been silent, finally spoke up, his voice weak but resolute. "I agree with Rhaenyra. Aegon is my son, but he is not suitable for Vaella."

Alicent's composure slipped for a moment, her eyes blazing with frustration. "You did nothing to sever the link between them, Viserys. And now you dispute this match? How can Rhaenyra's son be good enough for Helaena, but our son is not good enough for Vaella?"

Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. "Aegon is impulsive and lacks the qualities necessary to care for someone as precious as Vaella. She deserves a kind and understanding partner."

Alicent stood abruptly, her chair scraping loudly against the stone floor. "This is not about what Vaella deserves," she snapped, her voice shaking with barely controlled anger. "This is about your favoritism, your willingness to sacrifice my children’s future for the sake of Rhaenyra's."

Rhaenyra remained seated, her expression unyielding. "Alicent, this is not about favoritism. It's about what is best for Vaella and the realm. Jacaerys and Helaena's union would benefit everyone."

Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, her frustration and anger boiling over. "I will not allow my daughter to be used as a pawn in your game, Rhaenyra. This discussion is over."

With that, Alicent turned and stormed out of the chamber, her mind churning with resentment. How could Rhaenyra's bastard be deemed good enough for Helaena, yet Vaella be too good for her son? The injustice of it all gnawed at her, fueling her determination to find a way to secure her children's future.

Back in the council chamber, an uneasy silence settled over the room. Viserys looked tired, his earlier resolve waning. "Let us continue," he said quietly. "There are other matters to discuss."

Rhaenyra nodded, her mind already moving to the next topic, but the tension from the earlier confrontation lingered. She knew that Alicent's anger was far from quelled and that the coming days would bring new challenges. But for now, she focused on the task at hand, determined to protect her family and secure a future where they could all find peace.

…

Vaella Targaryen noticed the change in the atmosphere of the Red Keep after the birth of her sister Rhaenyra's third son, Joffrey. The castle felt like a simmering pot, ready to boil over. The departure of Harwin Strong and his father, Lyonel, back to Harrenhal only added to the tension. Whispers and sideways glances became more frequent, and the sense of unease permeated the halls.

One afternoon, as Vaella was wandering the corridors, she overheard some of the servants talking in hushed tones. "Did you hear? Princess Rhaenyra is taking her family to Dragonstone."

Vaella's heart skipped a beat. The idea of her sister leaving was unthinkable. She hurried through the winding passages, her mind racing with worry and confusion, until she found Rhaenyra in her chambers, packing her belongings.

"Rhaenyra!" Vaella cried, bursting into the room. "Is it true? Are you leaving for Dragonstone?"

Rhaenyra turned to her, her face calm but her eyes betraying the storm of emotions within. "Yes, Vaella. We are leaving."

Vaella felt a lump in her throat. "But why? Father will be devastated. And I can't bear the thought of losing you. Please, you can't leave me here."

Rhaenyra walked over to her sister and placed her hands on Vaella's shoulders. "You know why I must leave," she said gently. "The situation here is becoming untenable. For the safety of my children and myself, we need to be away from the court and its intrigues."

Vaella's eyes filled with tears. She knew the truth about the parentage of Rhaenyra's children, but it mattered little to her. They were her nephews, and she loved them dearly. "But people will talk no matter what you do," she said, her voice trembling. "Why can't I come with you?"

Rhaenyra sighed, her heart aching at the sight of her sister's distress. She pulled Vaella into a tight embrace. "You are so brave, Vaella," she whispered. "But I need you to stay here and look after our father. His health is failing, and he needs someone he can trust by his side."

Vaella clung to Rhaenyra, her tears soaking into her sister's dress. "I don't want to lose you," she said, her voice muffled.

Rhaenyra pulled back slightly, looking into Vaella's indigo eyes. "You won't lose me. We'll write to each other, and I'll visit whenever I can. But you must promise me that you'll be strong and take care of Father. He needs you more than ever now."

Vaella nodded, her heart heavy with the weight of the responsibility. "I promise," she whispered.

Rhaenyra kissed her sister's forehead, a bittersweet smile on her lips. "You are my heart, Vaella. And I know you will do great things. Stay strong, for both of us."

As Rhaenyra continued to pack, Vaella stood by, feeling a mix of sorrow and determination. The castle felt more oppressive than ever, but she knew that her sister was right. She had to be strong for their father, to be the anchor he needed in these troubled times.

The day Rhaenyra and her family left for Dragonstone, Vaella stood beside her father, watching the dragons take flight. The sky was filled with the beating of powerful wings, and Vaella felt a tear slip down her cheek. She glanced at Viserys, who looked frail and weary, a shadow of the king he once was. She took his hand in hers, squeezing it gently.

"Don't worry, Father," she said softly. "I'll be here for you. Always."

Viserys looked down at his youngest daughter, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and sadness. "Thank you, Vaella," he whispered, his voice trembling. "You are my strength."

As the dragons disappeared into the horizon, Vaella felt a sense of resolve settle over her. She would honor her sister's trust and protect their father, no matter the cost.

[mariascorzelliart]

Helloooo

These are two pages part of an adorable HOUSE of the Dragon fanfiction named 'The Golds' written by @presidenthades

You can read her Fanfiction here ---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/50191603/chapters/126761284

[sunnyhvnny]

Hi ! How about yandere HOTD men (Aemond, Jace, Aegon, Daemon) learning their wife take moon tea regularly to not be pregnant with their child ? (and understand why their many attempts at getting her pregnant didn't bring results)

It’s been a minute since I’ve written Yandere!hotd. I also feel like I’ve written something similar to this but for the life of me I can’t find it or remember.

TW: Manipulation, non-con,

Daemon Targaryen

When it comes to his wife, Daemon is an observant man. He knows he is clever already but he prides himself in knowing everything involving his wife. That is how he learned that every morning after a night of coupling, she has a servant bring her moon tea. Daemon knows she didn’t want to marry him and that the only reason they were wed at all was that he wanted her. However, enough time has passed in their marriage for her to come to love him as well.

He gives her only his love and affection. Never does he raise his voice at her or is cruel towards her. He swore to his brother when he agreed to marry her to him, that he would only treat her in an honorable manner. He had upheld his word. That is why he has been sitting on the knowledge of his wife and the moon tea for almost a fortnight, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t want to rage at her or make her frightened of him. He still wanted her love and truthfully, that was why he wanted her to carry his child.

No, he decided an accusation would be the best. He would make her feel guilty. Feel cornered and then she would stop drinking the moon tea on her own.

When his wife enters their shared chambers, he watches as she doesn’t spare him a glance and doesn’t see what he has sat in front of him on the table. She goes about getting ready for bed and it is only after she walks out from behind the changing screen that she finally looks at her husband. He hasn’t said a word the entire time and that in itself is suspicious. Usually, Daemon would already be pawing at her or ranting about his day.

Daemon sees the exact moment her eyes find the bottle of moon tea and realizes why her husband has been so quiet. He knows she won’t break the silence so he does. He asks her if she is seeing someone else. If she is having an affair and that is why she is drinking the moon tea because surely if she was only taking her husband to bed then there wouldn’t be a need for such a horrid potion.

He knows she hasn’t been with anyone else. He has been keeping his eye on her but his questions have the desired effect. She denies them and rambles about how he is the only man she has ever been intimate with and throughout it all Daemon forces himself to remain silent.

Finally, he asks her why she would take the moon tea if her husband is the only one fucking her. It takes her a minute to find a proper response but he knows the truth. She doesn’t love him and doesn’t want his children. He remembers her saying as much to one of her companions after they wed but she won’t say that to him. Instead, she tries to get sympathy out of him and tells him how frightening it is to have children. How terrifying the idea of it all is and if Daemon were anyone else he probably would have believed her, but he doesn’t.

He stands, then and walks over to her slowly. He takes her in his arms gently and tells her that he will be there for her the entire time. That she will want for nothing and that he will care for her. Then, in the quietest and most gentle voice he can muster, Daemon asks her to give him a child. He asks her to bless their union with a babe of their own and after a few moments, she nods because he knows that she has heard the rumors about him. Knows that if he is already accusing her of cheating on him it is t good and if he were to do it again, she very well could end up forfeiting her life.

He makes her give the bottle of moon tea back to the maester herself and when she comes to bed for the night, he can’t help the victorious smile from spreading across his face as he takes her.

Aegon II Targaryen

Aegon isn’t the smartest or most observant but he pays attention to his wife. He loves her and until this very moment, where he’s holding the cup that is apparently filled with moon tea, he thought she loved him as well. Before they spoke their vows and became one in the sept she had told him how much she loved him and how she wanted a family with him. How it was all she ever wanted.

His wife is a liar and at that thought, he hurls the cup of tea toward her, letting it break against the wall next to his weeping wife. He can barely pay attention as she pleads and begs him to listen to her. She sobs about how she meant every word. How she loves him and does want to carry and give him children.

For once, he is at a loss for words. How his traitorous wife can still stand by what she previously said is beyond him. However, he’s going to hold her to her word this time. It doesn’t take him long to stride across the room and grab her roughly by the hair. He doesn’t care that she whimpers and cries as he shoves her onto the bed and forces himself inside her.

When he is finished and rolls off of her, he wonders if perhaps she was telling the truth. She could have only been afraid to be with child but she swore to him that she’d give him a child that was theirs and to him, that should outweigh her fears.

He lets her rest for a bit before he fucks her again. Usually, he would go slow with his dear wife but he’s angry and has a goal. He doesn’t register when the sun rises or the knock on the door. He sees the servant walk in with their morning tea and food to break their fast. He stills with a shudder and spills himself inside of his wife again and it’s only when he catches his breath that he tells the servant to take the tea away and that if he ever finds out that they are bringing his wife moon tea again, he will personally make sure that no one ever sees them again.

Aemond Targaryen

A maester comes to him and asks him if his wife will continue needing the moon tea he has been making for her. Aemond listens to the babbling fool as he tells him how he would ask his Lady Wife but can’t find her anywhere. She had even told him, he says once it’s clear that the prince won’t say anything, that Aemond was okay with her taking the tea. That they weren’t ready to be parents.

Aemond is furious. Not only because his wife is using him to lie but for drinking that poisonous tea. Mostly, though, he feels deceived. When he and his wife wed he believed that she shared the same sense of duty as he did. Clearly, she was lying to him because if she did she would have been heavy with his child by now. She wouldn’t lie to her Lord Husband in such a way.

Despite the many feelings raging within him, he refuses to show them. Especially to this maester. He prides himself on being smart and calculating so it would do him no good to explode or rage. Instead, he tells the maester, who was stupid enough to come to him, that his wife is no longer in need of his services. That she no longer wants the moon tea and that she will never want it again. There must be something in his voice that makes the other man nervous because he only bobs his head and skitters away.

Aemond doesn’t say anything to his dear wife that night as she rides him. His need to fill her with his child is more prevalent than it has ever been and when he grabs her around the waist and pounds into her until she’s a moaning mess he thinks, somewhat cruelly that she doesn’t deserve to know what he has done. That she will learn her lesson when she learns that she is carrying their child.

The next morning, Aemond watches as she drinks her morning tea which is brought by one of her favorite servants. He knows she thinks she is drinking the moon tea and he can’t stop his cock from hardening knowing that she thinks she’s the one deceiving him.

Jacaerys Velaryon

Jace is angry with himself when he finally realizes the reason why his beloved wife has yet to swell with his child. He has been called naive and gentle his whole life and for the first time, he truly feels naive. He thought it was just taking a while to conceive a child. His beloved had told him that sometimes it takes a while and he believed her.

He doesn’t let her see how upset he is. He doesn’t want her to see his anger or self-pity but something must change. So that night as she is undressing for their nightly lovemaking, Jace does what he does best. He asks her if she loves him. Her answer is quick and when she looks over at her husband she sees his frown that borders on being a pout and his wide eyes filled with hurt. He asks then, why she would take moon tea every time he has given her his seed. Does she not love him enough? Enough to bare him a child? Does she think he’d be a horrible father?

When he looks close to crying she comes to comfort him. She holds him against her naked body and he lets her as she whispers reassurances. ‘Of course, she loves him’ ‘she was scared to be with child’ ‘he would make an excellent father’. After a while of her whispered reassurances, Jace finally pulls back and tries his best to still look broken but hopeful as he asks her if this means she will stop taking the moon tea.

She hesitates at the question but Jace knows he has won. He knows by the end of the night that his seed will take root and she will feel too bad to drink the moon tea to be rid of the potential babe that will eventually start to grow inside of her.

His wife swallows and he doesn’t miss the way she won’t look him in the eye or the paleness that has come over her soft skin as she agrees to stop taking the moon tea. With her agreement, he smiles, truly, and kisses her. She looks relieved to see that he is no longer upset.

That night, Jace makes sure to spill his seed inside his wife as many times as he can before sleep takes him. Towards the end, she’s whimpering about being sore but Jace thinks it’s a small price to pay for lying to him about something so big.

[sugarprincessbitch]

Targaryen men x Targ! Wife Reader

(Reader suffers the same death as Laena)

Warning ⚠️ (Angst).

Maegor Targaryen x reader, Aegon Targaryen x reader, Aegon II Targaryen x reader, and Aemond Targaryen x reader

Aegon II

The king's council was pressuring you and Aegon to give the throne a heir, despite being pregnant three times none of each were a boy, instead you had three beautiful daughters.

Now you were in your fourth pregnancy. Wanting to be near your mother, princess Rhaenyra, in your labor, your little family decided to move to Dragon stone.

The labor started early than expected, but that wasn't saw as a problem because the pregnancy developed normally.

Your mother and the maester were inside the room with you, meanwhile Aegon was walking impatiently outside your birthing chambers with the fear of something going wrong. Daemon and the boys tried to calm him down, reassuring him that you were at the hands of the best maester and midwife's they could found and you where going to be fine.

Hours passed and you were still fighting in that room to bring your child to the world, wrenching screams could be heard in all Dragon stone, but none of a child, only yours.

Suddenly the door open, and the pale face of the master came into view, he told Aegon that the baby was stuck inside of you and the only way of get it out was to cut you open.

Angered by the maester words he was ready to strangle him right there, but your anguished callings stop him before doing something.

You were bedridden, pale as a ghost and sweating a lot, the baby was slowly killing you each passing hour.

Rhaenyra was at one side of the bed, trying to calm you down by whispering sweet things in your ear, but by the look of her face she was also deeply worried by your state.

when he was finally at your side you told him to help you get up, and ignoring the pain you stubbornly start to walk outside the room despite the pleadings of the others.

Aegon start to follow you, calling and pleading that you will be fine and there will be another way. You still didn't want to listen to him and continue walking.

He found himself outside, inside the dragon pits he found you. You were in front of your dragon saying something that he couldn't comprehend, his panic calls were covered by a roar and you were engulf by flames.

Aegon started to scream horrified by the view as his legs gave out and he stumbles against the hard floor. He felt his heart tear apart. A river of tears run along his face at the sight of your body, your burnt body.

After that horrible night Aegon was not the same, he was a shell of the man he was with you. For his family pity, he returned to his old habits, ignoring all his responsabilities in court and as a father, neglecting your daughters.

His mother and grandfather force him into a new marriage, saying that he still needed a heir.

Poor the unlucky woman that married Aegon, because the shadow of your memory will be always there to haunt her.

Maegor I

You were the only wife that had given him children and pure blooded too, due to being his half sister. Because of that you were the most dear and important wife of Maegor, treating you with a fondness that was rare of him.

The maester had warn him to not try for more children, your health was fragile since having many children without repose, another pregnancy could cost you not only your life but also the one of the baby.

Maegor didn't listen to it and stated that his wife should do their duty to him as a woman without caring if she wanted or not. That was the end of the discussion.

The new pregnancy developed progressively worse as months passed, debilitating the mother day after day.

Visenya was the only one that had permission to attend the pregnancies of the queen, due to the fact that Maegor wasn't fond of maesters, believing them to be useless for caring correctly of her sister-wife.

In the middle of the night you went in labor, Visenya and the midwife's were the only ones present with you. Maegor was on one of his campaigns battling the faith, so he couldn't be present.

It passed a long time and the baby didn't wanna come out, there was blood everywhere and the women in the room shared with each other worried faces.

Due to the pain pleadings of the queen, Visenya decided to call a maester. The maester tried without effectiveness, stating that the only way the baby would come out is by cutting you open.

Knowing the end was near, you pleaded to Visenya that if you were going to die you wanted to do it at the hands of your dragon, not of the maester "From fire I was born, from fire I will die" you said.

When Maegor landed in kings landing the news of the torturous labor and death of his wife reach his ears.

He immediately saw red, mad with fury he grab his sword and went to search for the one or ones guilty of your death.

That day it was told that the fury of the dragon rain upon the people of kings landing, no one was saved from Maegor's want for blood.

He burned, tortured and killed everyone that was in charge of your well being. When no one was left to appease his Mad pain, innocents were also slay. But no killing or torture could fill the hole in his wrenching chest, the one you and your unborn child left behind.

Aegon I

They say that Aegon married his three sisters for different reasons. He married Visenya for duty, Rhaenys for love and you for devotion.

You were his twin, the half of his soul, the mother of his only daughter. His sweet Daenerys.

Your second pregnancy came as a glad surprise for the two of you and the kingdom, after the tragic death of your little sister at the hands of Dorne, in the castle there was only days for mourning or sadness. So the unexpected new was a ray of hope for everyone, specially Aegon who desperately needed a little hope to grab on to.

All different types of maesters were pestering you day and night all along the duration of the nine months, this was a direct order of their king and their queen, your older sister Visenya. The two of them worried about the fragile state you were in.

Because of you being a little pass your prime, the announce of you being pregnant was a miracle on itself, and the dangers of having a baby at your age was of their over protectivness.

You were now two days in labor, since your contractions starting in the early morning of the first day and continuing in the night of the second day, you haven't stop pushing.

Everyone was in distress and the tension was burdensome in the air, Aegon vigilant gaze and your sister angry commands were not helping at all.

That second night Visenya nor Aegon could be with you, an important meeting regarding the next attack to Dorne was held, and you found yourself all alone in a room full of strangers.

The pain was now unberable, each passing day with your baby stuck in you was agonizing, you knew death was in the horizon although Aegon didn't want to acknowledge it, extending your suffering.

In one of your moments of consciousness you got up of bed. Shoving the maester and servants aside, you got out of the room.

A terrified servant abruptly interrumpt the meeting and told them about your current disappearence. For a second Aegon was shock in place by the horrifying news, that hesitation was enough time for Visenya to start screaming commands to the guards to inmediatly find you.

They found you in the dragon pit, screaming to your dragon, pleading him for mercy. Aegon was the last one to get to there. Seeing you in just a dangerous situation send him on edge and without thinking it he tried to run to you, but the fire was quicker and reached you first.

A part of Aegon died that day in the fire with you, his hope was lost, everything was lost without you by his side. He attached himself to the only part of you that was left, your daughter.

Your loss was the final drop for the strain relationship between Visenya and Aegon to broke beyond repair. Dividing the family, creating resentment not only between the parents but also, between the children.

When Aegon's last days were near, he went in and out of feverish deviations, the only thing that calmed him was the milk of the poppy that the maesters gave him.

In his death bed his last words were pronounce again and again with a trembling and a voice full of anguish "My sweet y/n, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." Until he finally took his last breath the prayers didn't stop.

Aemond I

Your family, specially your mother, wasn't fond of your sudden marriage with Aemond, she had other plans for her younger's. Being Haelena and Aegon the ones married as the Targaryen tradition dictates, she didn't needed more than one. But love seal by fire couldn't be stop.

For the first time Aemond felt joy, the gods heard his and his wife prayers and gift them with a child, the one that were dessesperately hoping for.

The pregnancy went normally without much of a fuss, the two of you were expecting with excitement the day your baby will come into the world. Aemond didn't care if it were to be a girl or a boy, as the second son, he didn't have the burden to produce a male heir.

During the later stages of your pregnancy the tensions between the blacks and the greens grew increasingly dangerous. When the high septon crowned your brother as king everything explode. Due to this, Aemond had to fly away to Storm's end as a negotiator for the greens, leaving his much pregnant wife at home.

An urgent letter from her mother came in the second day he was staying there, telling him to come home as soon as possible, his wife started labor hours ago.

Only one thing retain him for some time before going back to his dear sister, the bastard that took his eye, Lucerys.

When he arrived at the pit in Kings landing the storm had long passed. Without changing his wet clothes he inmediatly went to the birthing chambers, in the rush he didn't notice the commotion of the servants and guards of the castle.

Entering he found the room empty, except from his mother who was in the floor, with her hands covering her face, crying unconsolable. Ameond silently reach her, and with a pang of fear in his chest ask "Mother, were is y/n... Were is she?".

Alicent gasp and cried more, he grew desperate and ask in a more forceful tone this time "Mother, stop crying and answer me, were is y/n?" Finally she answered him "I'm sorry Aemond, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop her... Oh god how horrible!" For a moment everything went silent, the pang in his chest grew and stab him with more force this time.

His mother rose her head and look at him with tears in her puff eyes "Th-the pregnancy went wrong, the baby, the baby wouldn't come out"

She stop and shed more tears "She killed herself Aemond, she command her dragon to kill her..." Stoping for a moment she screamed "OH GOD HOW HORRIBLE!"

Upon hearing this Aemond block himself out of the room, unfocusing his gaze he hug his mother that continue to cry in his shoulders. His face was still as a rock, solid, without a feeling. Only a treacherous tear falling slowly from his good eye, showing the emotion behind the empty gaze.

[darknight3904]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕽𝖆𝖈𝖊

ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ᴏᴄ! ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ

ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ᴘᴀʀᴛ / ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ /ᴍʏ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ᴀ ʏᴇᴀʀ ʜᴀꜱ ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇᴅ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇ ʟᴀᴅʏ ʀʜᴀᴇʟʟᴀ ᴀʀʀɪᴠᴇᴅ ᴀᴛ ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ. ᴀꜱ ʜᴇʀ 11ᴛʜ ɴᴀᴍᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ᴀᴘᴘʀᴏᴀᴄʜᴇꜱ ꜱʜᴇ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴄᴏᴍᴇ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʏᴏᴜɴɢ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇʟʟ ᴀꜱ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱ ᴊᴀᴄᴀᴇʀʏꜱ, ʟᴜᴄᴇʀʏꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴇɪʀ ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ ʀʜᴀᴇɴʀʏᴀ. ᴛʜᴇɴ, ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ-ᴅᴀʏ ᴄᴇʟᴇʙʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴ, ᴀ ᴍʏꜱᴛᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴘᴘᴇᴀʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪɴ ᴋɪɴɢꜱ ʟᴀɴᴅɪɴɢ.

This story will follow canon events of HOTD and Fire and Blood. However, I am changing some of the years when things took place so I can build my story's plot better.

126 AC

Rhaella peers down at the baby whose big brown eyes captivate her. She decides that Joffery Velaryon is Westeros' cutest baby when he smiles at her.

"Does he cry a lot?" She asks

"Sometimes. Mostly when he is hungry." Rhaenrya says

"Aren't babies always hungry though?" She asks

"I suppose they are..." Rhaenrya replies "I guess that means he cries a lot then."

Rhaella smirks at her cousin's admission. Even if he did cry a lot he was still cute.

"Rhaella what are you doing in here? You rarely visit without Jace and Luke." Rhaenrya asks

"I am hiding from the Septa. She insists that I learn about history with Heleana." Rhaella sighs "If she had half a brain she'd know Maester Edric has taught me it all already."

Rhaenrya lets out a snort of laughter at her half-a-brain comment.

"Our histories are important." She says "I will agree with you though, Septas can be a bore."

"I'd much rather be in the training yard with Jace and Luke." Rhaella admits "I don't understand why I must learn to sew while they get to fight with a sword."

"That is the way of the world," Rhaenrya says

"The way of the world can go fuck its-"

Rhaella stops her speech when her cousin's eyebrows shoot up.

"I mean to say it is idiotic that I cannot train with them."

Soft silence settles as baby Joffery coos in his crib, laughing when Rhaella sticks her tongue out at him.

"Do you truly wish to be outside with them?" Rhaenrya asks

"Of course. I want to be like Visenya in the books that line the shelves in my room." Rhaella says looking up at her cousin, "Since I do not have a dragon I wish to have another way to fight."

Rhaella watches Rhaenrya's face and doesn't miss the way the corner of her mouth twitches into a slight smile.

"Come with me." She says

As if it's magic, a wet nurse is there to watch over Westeros' cutest baby and Rhaella is following Rhaenrya through the maze of halls and stairways that lead the the training yard.

"Ser Harwin!" Rhaenrya calls

They waltz past Ser Criston Cole who is working with Aegon, Aemond, Jace, and Luke. Aemond's eyes widen when he sees her out of the castle and standing in the muddy yard.

A monstrous-looking man answers Rhaenrya's call. His mess of curly dark hair has been tied back neatly and he bows as they approach.

"Princess. My Lady." He greets

"This is Ser Harwin Strong, Rhaella. He is Lord Commander of the City Watch." Rhaenrya says "Lady Rhaella wishes to train, the way the Princes do."

Rhaella isn't entirely sure about this Ser Harwin. She expects him to turn her away, mutter something about her being a girl, and for Rhaenrya to tell her to go back to her sewing.

"I'll teach her." He says

Rhaella nearly falls over at his acceptance.

"You will?" She gasps

"It is a request from Princess Rhaenrya herself. I'd be foolish not to accept." He smiles at Rhaella and then Rhaenrya. "Tomorrow we will begin. I expect you to be dressed in something worthy of a great sword fighter."

Rhaella looks down at the silk dress she had been dressed in just hours ago.

"Of course." She smiles

"For today, I want you to go back to the Septa. Sit and do your lessons and tomorrow you can spend as much time as you want with Ser Harwin." Rhaenrya says

Training is harder than she had expected, and a lot dirtier too. The practice swords are so heavy they make her arms ache. It had been three months since Rhaenrya had introduced them and Rhaella was sure she was disappointing Ser Harwin.

"Straighten your arms, plant your feet. Having a strong stance keeps you from being knocked over." Harwin's voice commands as she swings at a straw-filled man, "Jacaerys, you too. You look like a gust of wind might blow you over."

Ser Harwin was tough, Rhaella could tell that he was an experienced fighter. She wanted to do her best under his tutelage but she found herself failing. Perhaps it was because the sword was too heavy, or maybe she didn't like the feel of mud between her fingers. What she did know though was that the sharp eyes of Criston Cole were not helping things. It felt like he was watching her every step whenever she arrived to train. She swore he was also watching Jace and Luke who often were beside her in training.

"Perhaps they cannot carry your orders out simply because they are too weak, Strong," Cole says

"Ignore them, boys, Rhaella. One day you will all be stronger than him." Harwin says

Every bone in her body was aching by the time she got back to her chamber. After working with the swords Harwin had taught them hand-to-hand combat, something he claimed was just as important as working with a sword. The only plus of today was that she had been able to overpower Jace and land a good hit on his side. He'd probably get her back for that one in a few days.

The sound of her door opening had her groaning. She loved Heleana but she did not wish to talk about bugs at this moment

"Heleana might I bathe and then come to visit you I am dirty from training still." She said not bothering to look at the door from her seat at her desk.

"Not only are you dirty but you smell awful."

"Aemond!" She exclaimed and shot up.

She had found herself becoming a bit more self-conscious around the prince in the past few months. She'd often make sure to her hair til it was perfectly silky or spray a bit of sweet-smelling perfume before going to see him. Maester Edric said it was a part of getting older and becoming a woman. Rhaella believed it was because she didn't want him to make fun of her. How could she become a great warrior if she was made fun of by her closest friend?

"We have not spent much time together recently. I thought you might be upset with me." Aemond said walking over to her.

"I am not upset with you." She affirms "After training I am often too tired to move. Not to mention Heleana and I have been spending time together as well."

"Heleana and her bugs can wait, you were my friend first," Aemond declares, sitting down on the end of the bed.

Rhaella lets out a small laugh of amusement at Aemond's possessive tone.

"Your name day is soon right?" He asks

"In a fortnight. I will be 11." She smiles

"You're getting old." Aemond teases

"You'll have your own name day eventually as well. 10 years is a very serious age." She says, trying to sound like an adult

"You're 10 now and you laughed when Luke drank his water too quickly and water spurted out his nose just a week ago." Aemond reminds

"Anyone would've laughed at that!" She defends

Her eyes widen when she sees how her Uncle Viserys has planned to celebrate her name day.

"I do not think a feast is necessary, Uncle." She said

"Of course it is, it is your first name day with family. Tell me have you ever had a grand celebration for your name day?" He asks

Rhaella's mind combs through the name days she can remember. Most of them were spent with cousin Gerold teaching her to hunt or Edric gifting her new perfumes.

"I have not..." She trails off

"Then a true celebration is in order. I have invited many lords and ladies of the kingdom. Even your cousin Gerold has sent word he will be here." Viserys says

"Are you excited for tonight?" Maester Edric asks

Rhaella catches his gaze through the mirror as a handmaid braids her hair.

"I am nervous. I do not know most of the people who will be at this party." She sighs

"You don't need to worry, they are here for you. You should focus on having a good time, this is your first proper name day celebration." He says, "I wish I would have been able to give you a celebration like this when you were younger."

"I don't. Every name day I have spent with you, Gerold, and the staff of Runestone has been perfect." Rhaella admits

The party is as lavish as Viserys had described. Numerous plates of food are piled high with dishes she couldn't even name. Music played as they ate and Rhaella hoped she wouldn't get anything on her dress.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Viserys asks

"I am, Uncle, thank you." She smiles truthfully

"I used to have feasts like this for Rhaenrya every year on her name day. She asked me to stop after she was married." Viserys reminisced

"I am sure they were wonderful." She says

Supper goes by smoothly as the many guests talk and feast. It is after the food has been devoured that Rhaella can feel herself beginning to sweat. She is sure they expect her to dance or make some big speech, anything that will have all eyes on her.

A sharp tap interrupts her train of thought.

"Do you want one of these? There weren't any on your side of the table." Aemond asks, his hand is out stretched with a delicate-looking pastry in it.

Her glance drops to the table where a large plate full of them rests just within arms reach of her.

Laenor nudges Rhaenrya who sits by his side. His wife had been scolding Luke for eating too quickly and making himself sick.

"I believe Prince Aemond is blushing." He whispers

Rhaenrya follows his gaze to the young children who are staring into each other's eyes.

"He is handing her a pastry," Rhaenrya observes, " He looks....rather foolish."

"His face is red, look at his cheeks and ears." Laenor laughs

Suddenly the young prince's eyes fall on Laenor and he immediately switches his attention to the intricate hairstyle Rhaenrya has donned for the evening.

"Yes, very uh well done, the braids." He mumbles

"Don't tell me you're afraid of a child." Rhaenrya laughs

"Little boys don't like it when people know their crushes. Aemond won't want me knowing his." Laenor says, thinking back to how embarrassed he was when Laena first found out about his crush on his father's cupbearer.

A moment passes and before he knows it, Rhaenrya grabs his arm.

"Looks like you were right." She says

Laenor's eyes follow his wife's and he is surprised when he sees Aemond leading Rhaella, the same nervous little girl who nearly combusted when she tripped in front of him once to the center of the room for a dance.

"Maybe he'll step on her feet." Aegon's disinterested voice carries across the table.

A lively beat starts up and all eyes are on the two children who clumsily try to recall all the dance skills they've learned in their lessons over the years.

"They shouldn't be the only ones down there. Rhaella looks like she's going to faint and Aemond...well he clearly isn't doing well either." Laenor says

He's about to ask his wife to dance for the first time in years when the doors to the hall open wide.

"Gods help us." He hears Alicent murmur.

Rhaella can feel the sweat trickle down her back as Aemond tries to lead her in a dance. She hasn't had many dance lessons but she swore she did better in those than she was now.

The sound of opening doors makes her and Aemond pause. A man and woman, with two young girls behind them, enter the room. Each of them had valyrian features but the man stood out the most.

"Daemon." Her Uncle calls from behind her "I did not think you were coming."

Daemon? As in...

"And miss the first feast thrown in my daughter's honor, on her name day?" His foreign voice fills her ears for the first time ever.

Daemon Targaryen. Her father has shown his face to her for the first time ever.

"Let's go back to the table," Aemond whispers as he grabs her hand to lead her back towards their family.

"Daughter." Daemon calls "You have grown up."

Rhaella feels like someone has stuffed cotton into her mind. She does not know what to do, or how to reply to this man.

Aemond leads her back to the table and she stiffly sits back down.

"Someone bring chairs. Lady Laena must sit down." Ser Lanor's voice makes its way into her mind.

At some point, the pregnant wife of Daemon's sits down, most likely near her brother. Her daughter, those half-sisters Rhaella had heard about many times were in her peripheral vision, as was her father.

"Wonderful party, brother. Truly a worthy display for my eldest." Daemon praises

The room is silent and Rhaella watches as Daemon takes a long sip of wine from the cup a servant brings.

"So, daughter. I'm glad to see you take after me in looks. You look a bit like my mother, Alyssa." He says with a playful smile "Either way I am glad you don't look like that bronzed bitch. If that had happened I'd remained in Pentos."

Brozed bitch? Did he mean your mother? He was speaking ill of your deceased mother?

"Daemon. Enough. This is a night of celebration. You are not here to torment anyone." Viserys speaks up

Daemon shakes his head a bit and laughs before his attention is drawn to Laena.

The music begins again and Rhaella feels like her heart has lept into her throat. So many times she had imagined what it would be like to meet her father. She was told that he was a fierce warrior with a blood-red dragon named Caraxes. Instead of the gallant dragon rider she had expected, she was met with a crude man who clearly shared no love for her mother.

Her eyes were bleary with tears when Edric approached the high table to retrieve her.

"Your Grace, might I take Lady Rhaella back to her chamber. I think tonight's events have been a bit too much for her." He asks

"Yes, I think that is for the best." Visery's words bounce around in her mind as Edric helps her stand.

She locks eyes with Aemond one more time before leaving. His eyes seemed like they were full of pity as he disappeared from her view.

"I'm sorry, my lady. I've spent years filling your head with tales of his heroics. I failed to teach you what a crass man he truly is." Edric softly said

"It is not your fault. It is not anyone's but his own." Rhaella whispered back.

Ewww, cancel Daemon!!

Jk. I love Daemon. He's just going to be a bitch for now. (In true Daemon fashion I guess.)

Anyway sorry if some people seemed a little ooc. I like to Imagine Rhaenrya, Laenor, and Viserys as pretty jolly people, especially towards kids.

Next Part

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[sunnyie-eve]

1. The Challenge

Fandom: House of the Dragon

Series: Devious Opportunity

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin! OFC Targaryen!

Word Count: 1.2k

Notes: playful flirting between cousin (duh Targaryen incest) and Alicent pushing views on Aegon

| MASTERLIST |

-

Since Celeste could remember things, she had always been raised in Kings Landing castle. She knew who her father was yet they weren't very close. She was his first child, who happened to be a bastard, with a past love affair.

Viserys knew his brother cared deep down for his daughter by letting her live with him. Daemon knew she was better off there than with him. He would visit her there and write letters to her but even when he married Laena, he never had her come live with them. Plus Rhaenyra cared for her since there was something she thought was just so special about her.

Maybe it had something to do with her knowing Celeste's mother since she was always kind to her. Or maybe because she their mothers both died the same way. Or because she saw some handmaids didn't care to take care of her for some odd reason as she was growing up.

At the moment, Celeste was running through the halls to get to Princess Rhaenyra's room to see the new baby. As she busts through the doors out of breath Rhaenyra and Harwin laugh at her.

"I hear it was another boy." She says out of breath, "Let me see, let me see." She gets on her tip-toes trying to get a better look at him as Harwin was holding him. Rhaenyra nods her head so he gives her to Celeste to hold.

Even though Celeste the and boys were cousins, they acted like siblings more towards each other. Probably because Rhaenyra acted like a mother towards her since she doesn't have much memory of her own mother.

"Between us, I hope he gets his father's looks." She smiles at the baby before passing him back to Harwin. "I'll leave you three alone." She heads for the door, "But I'll be back to give him more love later." She adds leaving with a smile.

As she was walking around the yard, Aegon joins her, "You should have seen the joke we did on Aemond." He laughs so she looks at him.

"Are you to tell me more or not?" She asks him.

"Oh, since he doesn't have a dragon, we gave him a pig with wings. The Pink Dread." He laughs more while she didn't find it funny.

"Why must you boys make fun of him for not having one like the rest of us? You don't have to make it harder on him." She looks at the weapons since she had always fancied them oddly. Especially ones that were made well and looked nice.

"It was Jace and Luke's idea." He tells her so she gives him a look, "It was my idea." He rolls his eyes, "You know, I don't care for how well you know me."

Celeste chuckles as she starts to walk away with him following her, "I'm the only person who ever really pays attention to you. I know you more than your siblings, parents, and maids know you."

"Ah yes, and I appreciate you for that." He playful tugs on her hair causing her to turn to face him with a glare in her face. "I had to get you to face me somehow."

"You couldn't ask me to stop and turn around?"

"As we both know, you know me so I'll say no." He smiles, "No, but I do truly appreciate that you pay attention to me. We both know no one else does unless I step out of line. How else would I get my mother to pay attention to me." He laughs but deep down it hurt him.

"I don't just pay attention to you, Aegon. I care about you as well. We're the closest. Somehow we are which blows my mind to this day since you're a pain in my ass."

He can't help but laugh, "That's one of my titles, of course, just for you to use." He bows a bit, "My lady."

"There's never a dull moment when you're around." She shakes her head at him, "I'm off to go love on my new brother." She leaves him.

"Cousin!" He corrects her.

"Basically my brother!" She shouts back starting to jog back towards Rhaenyra's chambers.

Later in the day, Celeste was bored and just wanted to talk to someone so she headed towards Aegon's chambers. They often had long chats to pass the time along when they were both bored. They never minded when one would wonder into the other's room since they have been doing such a thing since they could remember.

Before walking in the door was slightly opened and she could hear the Queen was in the room, "If Rhaenyra comes into power your very life could be forfeit. Aemond's as well. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession."

"Then I won't challenge-," Aegon starts but is cut off.

"You are the challenge! You are the challenge, Aegon! Simply by living and breathing! You are the King's firstborn son and what they know, what everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones... is one day, you will be our King." Alicent shouts at him making Celeste's eyes widen.

As she hears her coming towards the room she moves away from the door far enough to act like she was walking that way, "Queen Alicent." She smiles as they came face to face.

"Celeste." She sighs, "Have you heard about the prank that was pulled on Aemond?" She stops her.

"Aegon told me about earlier. I told him they needed to leave him alone and stop making fun of his brother. He said it was the other's idea but I knew he was lying so he admitted to it." She lets her know before she continues her way. 

When she entered Aegon's room he was still sitting in bed like his mother left him thinking about everything, "You know Rhaenyra would never do anything to you or Aemond, right?" She tells him, "Yes, she's not close to either of you but she would never kill either of you for the throne."

He looks over at her, "You heard everything..."

"You know I like to listen to others when I'm not supposed to." She slightly smiles, "How about I step out for a minute so you can get dressed then we can talk?" She leaves him room and when he was dressed he tells her he's done.

"Why does my own mother not listen to me?" He asks looking over at Celeste sitting at the end of his bed. "I have no want for the throne. Now or when I'm older."

"Then stand your ground even when she pushes you." She tells him, "Yes, everyone in the realm prefers a man to takeover but honestly you and I know you are not the best fit to do such a thing." 

"I know and I know my own mother believes that as well deep down but for some reason she wants me to still be a King." He huffs pacing around, "Why can't I be on my own?"

"Because people don't want things to change." She tells the truth.

"What about what I want?" He stops to face her so she gets up to hug him and he holds her tightly.

[shesjustanothergeek]

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Three: The Long Night

|Aemond Targaryen x Strong!Reader|

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's note: Thank you for the warm reception to the first two chapters! We're about to go 0-100 real quick, so hold onto your butts. This is also the longest chapter of the story, hence the title of "The Long Night". It's around 10k words. ୧⁠(⁠＾⁠ ⁠〰⁠ ⁠＾⁠)⁠୨ A few lines stuck with me while writing this chapter from the song Gibson Girl by Ethel Cain:

“And if you hate me. Please don’t tell me. Just let the lights bleed all over me.” - Ethel Cain, Gibson Girl.

Chapter Warnings: Aegon window scene, emotional abuse of a child, if the reader has zero lovers haters Aemond is dead, COCSA.

The afternoon air was refreshing to the eldest son of the king, the sun warming the ruddy skin of his cock as he stroked it to total hardness. As Aegon grew older, the more the days seemed to drag on in an endless loop of mind-numbing misery. Duties, lessons, and more raging from his mother on the importance of said responsibilities until the time all muddled into one continuous circle. Wine, cuffing Aemond, and fucking his prick raw seemed to be the only things that could bring him out of this dull, never-ending cycle. 

Each day, Aegon discovered a new object that made his member pulse with a flush of blood. It was part of what made it so distracting. One day, a young serving girl with exceptionally long legs caught the prince’s eye. Her quickly shifted gaze did not deter him in the slightest. The next was the thrill of danger, each time seeking completion at new depths of peril. Once atop his mighty dragon Sunfyre, his pink membrane wings sparkling against the white clouds as he rutted against his saddle, and another, at where he found it the easiest, perched atop his window ledge, stark naked as the day he was born. The threat of being discovered always sent a thrill down his spine and straight to his stones. 

Most recently, much to his chagrin, Aegon had discovered you, his sweet, albeit annoying niece, was the object of his desires as you ate an overly ripe strawberry. The pink juice dribbled down your fingers and chin, staining your lips red. He felt disgusted with himself at the time. You were his niece! This bothersome little urchin who followed his heels like a duckling, yet he attended luncheons with you, Jace, and that other one.

At first, he thought that maybe it was not you that caused his body to have that primal response but the object itself. It couldn’t possibly be you. However, after much trial and error, at one point attempting to have an intimate time with a fruit, he found the reason. Aegon soon discovered that after spending several meals with you, intently observing how you sucked the leftover yellow-orange meat from a peach pit, it was you he was aroused by, the way your tongue moved to lick the sticky saccharine liquid from your digits and thus became his ritual.

He would attend lunch with you and your brothers as that was the only meal you ate alone, observing how you consumed creamy puddings that he snuck from the kitchens, supplying fruits that would squirt their nectar onto your skin when you bit into them. It would send a thrumming inside his bones as he watched you chew, a simple act that no other maiden could seem to replicate. Aegon would wipe away the stickiness from your flesh with the swipe of his moistened thumb, feeling his stomach tense at the contact and dipping back into his mouth to gather more as you innocently giggled and swatted his hands away.

Then, when the meal would end, the prince would find himself in his room as he was now, clothes thrown about the area as he stroked his cock within the ledge of the windowsill, the images of you devouring the foods he gave you playing in his mind’s eye. And the best part, the detail that sent Aegon frequently rutting into his fist at all moments of the day, was that you didn’t know any better. You perceived it as your Uncle being kind, and you were eager to receive praise or attention from the person you admire.

What you didn’t understand wouldn’t hurt you, he reasoned.

Aegon was almost there. He could feel it, sense the impending release he had stored since lunch as he spat on his cock, pinching the ruddy head to stave it off just a moment more. It wouldn’t be long now. He could hear the bells that signaled the new hour in the distance. His stomach tensed, digits curling into a stone pillar for purchase as he released a gasp of your name through gritted teeth. 

“Whose idea was it?” Alicent’s voice rang out to the sound of the bell tower, throwing him from his fantasy as he stumbled off the ledge and onto his mattress, knocking his cup of Arbor Red out of the window. She repeated her question once more, disregarding the state of undress in which she had discovered her child. 

Aegon was embarrassed and disheveled, minding reeling as he struggled to catch his breath and understand her question. It annoyed him that he was cut off abruptly as if his mother had no regard for her eldest son’s privacy. 

“Whose idea was it? The pig. Was it your plot?” Alicent interrogated, ringed fingers clasped over her abdomen as her dark brows drew together in a scowl. 

It took a moment for Aegon to come to his senses as he brushed unruly strands of his curly blonde hair from his face, covering his exposed parts with his bedsheets. “No. It was Jace and uh… ” he stammered, picturing the other curly-mop-headed boy he could never remember the name of. 

What was it? Lorgan? Leander?  

It didn’t matter. Aegon couldn’t keep up with the children his half-sister popped out. Every day, a new babe seemed to cry in the Red Keep. “The-the other one, not the girl. I can’t be sure,” he eventually answered, squinting his eyes as he stared towards his mother.

“Aemond is your brother,” she sharply reasoned, disappointedly shaking her head and taking steps toward her slouched son. 

“Well, he’s a twat ,” Aegon childishly countered as frustration welled up at having his release stolen from him. He couldn’t believe she showed such nonchalance seeing his boyish body, let alone him being bare as the day he was born as he stroked himself to completion. 

“We are family,” Alicent lectured, brown eyes flicking across her son’s pale face. “You may cuff him about as you wish at home, but in the world we defend our own.” 

“It was funny,” the prince sighed with a shrug and realized his defense was weak. It was only a joke. It wasn’t Aegon’s fault that Aemond was such an odd, fragile little boy who couldn’t take his teasing. This would make him less of a bore to be around.

“Do you think Rhaenyra’s sons will be your playthings forever? As things stand…,” she continued with her velvet voice, her grave tone rumbling in her chest. “Rhaenyra will ascend the iron throne and either her daughter, or Jacaerys will be her heir.”

Aegon shrugged his sinewy shoulders, an expression of indifference on his pale face. He knew this already. He knew this when he couldn’t think and did not understand the importance of the sudden lesson in inheritance. “So?”

The Queen groaned, nearly at her wit’s end, as she looked at the Seven above for guidance in dealing with her incompetent son, fists clenching. 

“You are nearly a man grown. How is it that you can be so shortsighted?” Alicent finally became level with her son, kneeling on the filthy mattress and rumpled sheets. She needed him to listen and hear the seriousness of the future for him, his siblings, and his potential children’s lives would be threatened should his half-sister become Queen. “If Rhaenyra comes into power, your very life could be forfeited. Aemond’s as well. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession.” 

Aegon’s jaw trembled, lips twitching into a pout as his nose burned. His mother was so frightening when she was mad that he couldn’t help but feel like a child again. “Then I won’t challenge-” 

Faster than the prince could blink, Alicent’s digits pinched his pale cheeks together, startling him into submission as his brows scrunched in pain.

“You are the challenge, Aegon! Simply by living and breathing!” she shouted, words rattling in her throat. 

Silence hung thick between mother and son, a sense of catastrophe burrowing itself into Aegon’s heart as tears threatened to spill. He would not cry . He refused to cry in front of his mother as she screamed into his very soul that his half-sister would murder him and his brother when she became queen. The prince still did not believe it. She wouldn’t do it if he did not stand in Rhaenyra’s way. Kinslaying was the greatest crime one could commit in the eyes of the law and the divine. She would never. 

“You are the king’s firstborn son,” Alicent continued, squeezing Aegon tighter as she moved to smack his chest with her words, “and what they know and everyone in the realm knows in their blood and in their bones, is that one day you will be our king.” 

The Queen stared into his frightened eyes, which flicked over her like a rabbit cornered by a fox. Realizing the severity of her outburst as guilt washed over her, Alicent stroked her son’s untamed hair, a brief halfhearted smile on her plump lips, as she spoke to him with a sudden reserved tranquility that chilled Aegon. 

“I aim to propose a match between you and her eldest as an attempt at peace in the following days. She already offered Jacaerys to Helaena, but if Rhaenyra sees reason as you think her to have, she will have no option but to accept.” The Queen leaned onto her haunches as she swallowed, her mouth feeling of cotton as she looked anywhere but at her fearful son. “Seeing as you are smitten with the only good thing that has yet to emerge from Rhaenyra’s continued indecency, you will have no objections. Get dressed .” 

The eldest Prince struggled to steady his breathing as his mother left, heart beating as if he was plummeting from his window. Aegon didn’t know what to think or feel as his mother sighed profoundly and left without another word. 

He would wed his niece? Aegon thought that someone as pious as his mother would never allow a match between kin, let alone ones so close. It made no sense. She would reject one proposal only to give another of the same caliber. You and Aegon were the two eldest children and subsequent heirs, the most obvious match, yet Rhaenyra did not offer it. There must have been a reason that his mother refused to acknowledge.

It was all too much. It felt as if Aegon was lost out at sea and attempting to keep afloat, seeing landfall just out of reach as wave after wave of saltwater stung his eyes and filled his lungs until he sank into the cold and murky waters below. Aegon needed a drink to quiet his nerves and a good release, for that matter, as his eyes traveled to the colorful array of exotic fruits resting in a bowl on his nightstand. 

The evening was upon King’s Landing as you and your brothers readied for bed. A maid ran a silver ivory tooth comb through your brown hair, detangling the knots and frizz accumulated during the day. Jace and Luke prepared with their man servants in the adjoining room, the younger running across the stone floor and into your room, declaring he was not tired. You couldn’t help but giggle at Luke’s childish actions as the servant chased him onto his neatly made bed, sliding across the sheets and causing them to wrinkle.

Moments later, your mother and father entered to say their goodnights, their presence whipping your brother back into good behavior as the manservant put him into his night clothes. Your mother always came to tuck the three of you into bed, even when there was a new addition to the family. Frequently, Ser Harwin followed behind her with a regaling of stories when your father wasn’t able to do the same, but this time, he was here, and the three of you crowded into Jace’s bed as you awaited your father to tell you of his journeys this past moon. 

He retold tales of sailing throughout the Narrow Sea with his father Corlys and the squire Ser Qarl. Your father sang bits of the same shanties his crew mates did before your mother stopped him as the three of you giggled. He spoke of battling pirates with silver and gold teeth and missing limbs who tried to board his ship on a misty morning. He could barely see three paces before him due to the fog on the calm waters as enemies boarded your grandfather’s boat. He proclaimed how Ser Qarl saved his life when one of the dreadful pirates knocked your father’s torch out of his hand. 

“The world around me transformed instantly, shrouded in a gray hue. The menacing figure of the one-eyed pirate, with his glinting gold tooth, vanished from view. Anticipating the bitter bite of a blade tearing through my flesh, I braced myself for the inevitable. Amidst the deafening percussion of my adversary’s approach, I stood steadfast, poised for the final confrontation. Bereft of vision, I awaited the fatal blow, resigned to my fate. Yet, like the Warrior himself, emerging from the mist, Ser Qarl materialized and drove his sword deep into the pirate’s heart, sparing me from inevitable demise”.

As your father recounted the tale, his hands danced through the air, adding flair to every word and making you and your siblings feel like you were with him. Jace and Luke were captivated, hanging on to every detail as your father wove the story with the skill of a master storyteller. As he spoke, it felt more like a fantastical legend than a real-life experience. The mere thought of your father not returning from his daring escapades sent shivers down your spine, prompting you to intertwine your arms and absentmindedly play with the delicate strands of hair between your fingertips.

With a watchful eye, your mother sensed your anxiety and gently reassured you with a kiss on your head and comforting words. “Don’t worry, my dear. Your father won’t be embarking on another adventure for a long while. He knows that his rightful place is with his family,” your mother consoled, lightly caressing each of your dark locks while sharing a meaningful glance with your father. “Enough storytelling. It’s time for you to go to bed. There’s much to learn in tomorrow’s lessons, and none of you will skip them.”

She looked at you with raised brows, her violet eyes wide enough that you could see the pink veins decorating the white. You tightened your mouth in shame and looked away from your mother’s piercing gaze as you, Jace, and Luke muttered in unison.

“Yes, mother.” 

A deep sense of relaxation washed over you as you slid beneath the cool, smooth silk sapphire bedsheets. It had been an eventful day, and now, finally lying in bed, you released a breath. Your mother first kissed your brothers goodnight as your father did the same for you, switching between the three in your separate rooms.

“Father,” you called out softly as he walked to Jace and Luke’s room. He turned towards you, his eyes holding a mixture of weariness and unspoken understanding as you buried your flushed cheeks beneath the calm, comforting embrace of the blankets. “I cannot stand the thought of you continuing to brave the seas alongside Ser Qarl and Lord Corlys. The danger is too great.”

You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him. The idea of your father setting sail on your grandfather’s proud ship and never returning filled you with an indescribable dread. You couldn’t fathom a world where no one would swing you around, regaling you with vivid tales of swashbuckling adventures and stirring escapades on the high seas.

As Laenor listened to your confession, a faint but genuine smile graced his features. His eyes softened as he glanced at your tiny, fidgeting feet, a clear sign of nervousness. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of protectiveness toward you. Despite what others may say to him, you were his little girl. He knew that you often cared too deeply and worried too much about others, which weighed heavily on his mind. Seeing the effects of overwhelming anxiety on your petite frame heightened his concern for your well-being.

As he looked at you, he silently promised himself that he didn’t want to be the cause of your distress. With a wistful smile, he nodded and excused himself, reaching his sons. Deep down, he knew that a part of his soul belonged to the sea, but he couldn’t bring himself to share this with you.

He hoped his inner turmoil was not visible as he exited, but he knew you were astute enough to have noticed. Despite your tender age, you possessed a perceptiveness that belied your years, and Laenor couldn’t help but worry more about deceiving you than he did about his wife or mother. As he departed, he steeled himself for the impending storm of reproach from Rhaenyra upon receiving the maids’ reports about the tangled knots you had wrestled out of your hair while asleep.

Your mother’s warm and affectionate smile appeared shortly after your father’s as she settled onto the edge of the luxuriously soft feather mattress. She gently kissed your warm cheek and enveloped your small frame in a tight embrace as you responded in kind, nuzzling into her lavender-scented neck. She beamed with delight as you squeezed her tighter, pressing an extended, heartfelt kiss onto her cheek. In response, she let out a tender laugh, which quickly spread to you, causing both of you to erupt into a chorus of infectious, toothy giggles.

As you prepare to drift off into sleep, you feel the loving warmth of your mother’s heartfelt whisper. “Sleep tight, my heart. I love you.” She gently brushed her fingers down from the crown of your head, through the fabric of your soft cotton nightgown sleeve, and finally to your hand, where she gently massaged the tender skin of your palm, creating a sense of comfort and security.

As you settled into your feather pillows, your mother’s words filled your chest. “I love you too, Mama,” you replied, feeling a surge of emotion.

You could sense her watching as you nestled into your soft sheets, envisioning her gentle smile as she observed you finding comfort in your bed. Her soft sigh seemed to carry a hint of amusement as she watched you, her only daughter, wrapped in the embrace of the fabric, and it was almost as if her exhale itself held a trace of laughter.

What an endearing girl. My beautiful girl, Rhaenyra, mused as she rose to her feet. She took her time extinguishing the flickering candles one by one until only a single flame remained on the nightstand. The soft glow of the candle illuminated the room, providing a presence of solace for you, who had always been afraid of the darkness that the Red Keep brought. Though she would never admit it aloud, the princess regretted allowing Alicent to name you. She felt like an imbecile for the days after her first labor. 

Rhaenyra had a name for a girl. She had one since her mother was pregnant with her last child. You were a Targaryen, a descendant of the Conquers, and deserved to have a name like one. Alas, in a desperate attempt to create everlasting peace between the Princess and the Queen, she allowed her forgotten friend to name her daughter. An act that proved fruitless.

It was a mistake Rhaenyra would never make again as she opened the stalwart oak doors of your chambers, leaving one last expression filled with unyielding love.

You could still feel the whisper of your mother’s goodnight kisses on your face, releasing a deep sigh of relaxation as you turned beneath the elegant blankets and burrowed deeper into your soft pillows, arm tucked under your head. It took you a moment to comprehend the foreign object hidden underneath the satin-covered feathers as you grasped it with small fingers. 

You revealed a piece of parchment folded into fours underneath the candlelight and unraveled it curiously, wiping at your sleepy eyes with the back of your hand. 

It was a note from… Aegon , bewildering you beyond measure as to why he would do such a thing and how he got it in here without notifying your guard. The contents were of messy handwriting as if a chicken had written it, squinting in an attempt to decipher what almost looked like a foreign language. 

“I have a secret to tell you, niece, but you must promise that you shall tell no one, not even Jace. Follow the map I have drawn and meet me. I’ll be waiting. - Aegon”

Excitement rushed through your veins as you quickly went to your wardrobe and pulled on a midnight blue cloak. Slowly, as noiseless as possible, you crept over to the door separating you, Jace, and Luke’s room, carefully pulling it shut. You held the note in your hand as you followed your Uncle’s instructions, sliding your vanity mirror out of the blocked path he wrote out and stopping momentarily as the wooden leg scratched across the floor, ensuring your brothers did not hear. Your fingers felt along the stone wall, pushing with all your might against the innocuous slab until it gave way and a torch-lit passage emerged. 

You knew you shouldn’t be venturing out of your chambers at such a late hour, but the thrill of adventure was too enticing. Pulling the hood of your cloak over your loose hair, you couldn’t resist the opportunity. Aegon had never done something like this. He never sought you out to spend time together, let alone at such a late and secretive hour. It provided a good distraction from the worry that clung to your eyelids as you slipped down the dust-covered redstone stairs.

You heard rumors about hidden tunnels throughout Maegor’s Holdfast that he employed skilled architects and builders to construct them, and when they finished, he led them into the passages and killed every single one. When questioned about it, Maegor claimed he didn’t want rats to scuttle inside his walls . The thought sent shivers down your spine at the notion that within these very halls and alcoves could be the bones of a dozen or so men murdered in cold bold by your ancestor. 

The scuffle of shoes stole you from your mind, causing a gasp of fear to shake you as Aegon clamped his palms on your shoulders. Your Uncle cackled at having caught you unaware, sounding like a hag and flipping his unruly blonde hair back. 

“You got my note?” he asked as you nodded eagerly, showing him the parchment. “Does Jace know?”

You took a step back, brows scrunching together in offended confusion as you shook your head. Why would it matter if your brother knew? He wouldn’t tell anyone if you asked him not to. You were two halves of the same soul, bound together no matter the circumstances. 

“No, Uncle. You told me not to.” Despite wishing to do so. 

Aegon grinned, pleased with your obedience. Your submission to him was what allowed him to tolerate you. Your Uncle knew how close you and Jace were, practically joined at the hip, and even if he wanted to do something alone with one or the other, the other would always show. He was sure you would tell Jace when you felt the note underneath your pillow but was relieved nonetheless. 

As his eyes observed your attire, violet orbs flicked to your loose hair, white nightgown, and finely tailored cloak with a grimace. Aegon should have told you to dress down, seeing as he wore a tan undershirt and black trousers, but it was too late now. He would have to be extra careful. She looks common enough, he thought. 

“I was worried you wouldn’t come,” the prince confessed, placing his hand on your back to guide you. “I know your mother is strict with your bedtime.” 

You frowned as Aegon escorted you to Seven knows where. His insinuation of such a juvenile schedule deeply wounded you. As you understood, he didn’t adhere to a bedtime enforced by Queen Alicent, which only furthered your insecurities about your place compared to your aunt and uncles.

The narrow passage was filled with the high-pitched squeaks of mice and rats, making you startle and stand on your toes with each scurry past. Despite your protest, Aegon found amusement in your discomfort and callously kicked the next rodent that darted in your path. You supposed it was his way of protecting you, but the sight of the injured creature and its harrowing screech left you with a deep sense of disgust and sadness in the pit of your stomach. 

It brought to mind a painful memory of your Uncle crushing a butterfly that you and Helaena discovered in the garden, another instance of Aegon’s unjustified cruelty that you struggled to comprehend.

Water droplets echoed in the vast expanse of the underground tunnels as you and your Uncle ventured deeper into them. You glanced at Aegon, seeking guidance, and were met with a wide grin that stretched across his face. In the dim torchlight, the sparkle of his white teeth was visible, and the sudden image of your mother flashed into your mind. You found a strange comfort in your Uncle’s resemblance to her, starkly contrasting the unease you felt around the Queen’s children.

Despite being your mother’s siblings, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond seemed distant to her, lacking the typical bond between brother and sister. Usually, aunts and uncles were much older than their nieces and nephews, taking on a more parental role than a playmate. This dynamic blurred the line between family and friendship, making it difficult to feel at peace with them. You found yourself grappling with the contradicting ideas of respecting and listening to them as you would your mother or father while treating them as one of your companions. You did not enjoy the disturbance this caused in your heart, burying those thoughts and feelings deep down, refusing to confront or acknowledge their existence. If you did not speak it, it was not real. 

You could no longer deny your curiosity about Aegon’s plans as you trailed behind, though the uncertainty stirred excitement within you. “Where are we going, Uncle? What secret did you want to tell me?” 

Aegon didn’t hide the way he rolled his eyes in annoyance at your insistent questioning, commanding you to be patient. He gripped your hand without much choice on your part as he led you down one of the dark tunnels with jagged rocks until you came upon a corridor with winding stairs. You peered curiously as he abruptly dragged you up the stone, your shorter legs struggling to keep in time with him. 

Soon, you found yourself underneath the starless night sky, walking a few paces before Aegon in the courtyard until he abruptly yanked you back into the shadows, a guard marching across your path. You were stunned momentarily at your Uncle’s foresight, staring into his concentrated gaze in shocked admiration, confident that he had done something like this before. Holding your breath until you could no longer hear the rhythmic clank of his armor, a burst of excitement filled your veins as you released a hushed giggle, Aegon following suit. 

You arrived in the wine cellars after a few more thrilling close calls. Bottles, barrels, and casks lined the dim room from floor to ceiling as a chilly draft swiftly passed through the area. Peering questioningly at Aegon, he studied the wooden crisscross rack of the different beverages until he decided on one and pulled it out of its cubby. 

“What is that one?” you interrogated, peeking over his shoulder. He shamelessly turned to you along with the glass bottle, carelessly flipping it in his grasp. 

“Arbor Red. I thought we might have a drink to accompany us. ’Tis a favorite of mine,” Aegon replied as he picked the wax off the cork and neck. 

You observed him with interest, hesitancy beginning to creep into your mind as you pinched at the fine hairs on your forearm. “I’ve never had that before. Mama only allows me to have ciders or a sip of white wine if I cannot sleep.” 

“She isn’t here now, is she?” he jeered, removing the wax with great effort to pop the cork. “Here.” Aegon offered without choice, holding the dark purple bottle out with one hand, tipping it in your direction when you stalled. 

You nervously accepted the wine with tight lips, tentatively taking a sip as you felt the saccharine liquid burn your tongue and ears, scarlet heating your cheeks. It was treacly sweet for your liking, causing a gag of disgust to erupt from your throat as you shoved the Arbor Red back into Aegon’s grip. He laughed at your disgust and took a swig of it without a care, expelling a sigh of relief as the cool, red liquid slid down his throat. 

“That’s positively rancid!” you giggled, wiping away the remnants from your chin. “How do you drink that?”  

Aegon held the neck of the bottle in his grasp, stealing another from the rack he thought you would like as he took a long gulp. “Like that.” 

You laughed in surrender, accepting the lighter wine that he picked and stealing a small taste as it turned your blood to fire. 

Your Uncle’s next destination was the kitchens as he led you up another set of worn stairs, following his heels like an eager pup to its owner, wagging your tail. There were only a few servants in crimson robes and dresses, their smocks an off-yellow color from years of usage as they tended to their late-night duties. Aegon kept you out of sight in the darkness as he took swigs of the Arbor Red, hiding patiently like a stalking cat waiting for the perfect moment to pounce on an unsuspecting mouse. 

When it happened, he took your wrist, expertly leading you through the multiple counters and tables, snatching a tray full of almond cakes and drying fruits as suddenly a kitchen maid appeared. The tray of prunes and oranges nearly slipped from your grasp as you jumped, swiftly recovering as Aegon grabbed your cloak and pulled you back from crashing into the servant, running at impossible speeds. The woman shouted and scolded both of you as you nearly tripped over your nightgown, bounding down the steps three at a time, laughter echoing in the halls. 

Once Aegon felt that no one was on your trail, he stopped on one of the unguarded battlements of the Holdfast, both of you laughing breathlessly as the adrenaline left your body. Placing the tray of fruits onto the ledge, you uncorked the bottle of wine Aegon chose, spilling some of the bubbly liquid. You took small sips, finally appreciating the refreshing white grape flavor as you and your Uncle snacked on the stolen goods underneath the silent moonless sky.

“My mother plans to betroth us,” Aegon declared through the quiet, making your eyes grow wide in response as you shoved a piece of powder-covered almond cake into your mouth. “She worries that when Rhaenyra comes to power, she’ll try to hurt Aemond and me because we’re boys.” 

You turned to face Aegon, licking the white dust from your lips as you stared at him in confusion. “Why would mother try to hurt you because you and Aemond are boys? You’re family.” They were your mother’s brothers and much younger at that. She would never try to hurt them for any reason at all. 

“Because the people of the realm believe only men can rule and they will do anything to ensure that I do,” he replied, bitterness laced in his tone. 

Sadness overtook your limbs as you slumped onto the ground, your woolen cloak catching on the stone. You could feel Aegon’s hopelessness as if it were your own and leaned your head onto his standing legs.

“They may believe that, but they are wrong. My mother will ascend the throne and I will after her. She will create a new order throughout Westeros and people who think that we cannot rule simply because we are girls won’t exist,” you announced with great conviction, stealing a glance as your Uncle looked over at the thousand twinkling village lights.

“You believe that you will rule after her?” Aegon questioned dispassionately, his lithe digits flicking in disregard. 

“Yes,” you replied without a thought. Your mother had not officially declared you her heir. That would only happen once your grandfather passed, a notion which brought you grief, but you knew she would choose you. After all, you were the eldest. You sighed, touching Aegon’s knee to get his attention. “Besides, you won’t challenge her. If you’re married to me, you’ll still become king.” 

“My mother wants us to marry to make you a prisoner bound in chains of false love and children– to prevent my half-sister from taking the throne when they put me on it. How can you not see that?” He turned to you swiftly, staring down at you with an intense look that struck you to your core. “My existence is opposition enough to Rhaenyra’s claim, and it seems my mother and grandfather will stop at nothing to groom me into the next heir even if it is something I do not want. Rhaenyra will stop at nothing to get you back when they do so.” 

“Queen Alicent will use me as leverage to stop my mother from taking her rightful place…” you whispered aloud as tears brimmed at your lashes. “You’ll still be king even if my mother is Queen. You’ll be married to me! Isn’t that enough?” 

Suddenly, Aegon kneeled before you, taking your shoulders harshly in his grip as his fingers burrowed into your flesh. You winced and tried to lean away, but he stopped you, his face so close you could see the fair, wispy hairs of a growing mustache above his lip. “What don’t you understand about this?” he yelled, his pale cheeks growing blushing with ire. “My mother and grandfather will put me on the throne over Rhaenyra no matter who I am married to, especially a bastard. Mother only wants for us to wed so that yours will not have the option forcefully to take her rightful place with her daughter in the way.”

“I am not a bastard!” you screamed into your Uncle’s face, tears falling freely down your cheeks as you shoved him onto the ground, nor were you your mother’s favorite. “My father is Laenor Velaryon, and my mother Rhaenyra Targaryen. I will rule the Seven Kingdoms and wear the crown of Jaehaerys like grandfather does and how my mother will!”  

Aegon groaned, head tilting to the sky in exasperation as he laid his limp hands between his legs in surrender. There was no point. You wouldn’t see reason. “Of course you are,” he sighed, sitting on his haunches. “Twas foolish of me to say otherwise. Come here and not let these treats go to waste.” 

Aemond sought solace in the library’s serene, dimly lit atmosphere during challenging moments. While he cherished his family, particularly his sister and mother, he couldn’t shake the feeling that his oldest brother exploited his loyal affection. Despite societal expectations dictating that he turn to his elder siblings for advice, Aemond often found himself shouldering Aegon’s responsibilities.

He observed how Luke frequently sought guidance and support from you and Jace when making decisions and taking action. While Luke turned to his siblings for solace following a frightening dream or when Aegon was particularly unkind, Aemond lacked this support. Instead, he assumed the role of mentor, offering guidance to his older brother and comforting his older sister during challenging times. Unintentionally, his family burdened Aemond with the responsibilities of a caregiver, parent, and older brother despite his status as the second son, with seemingly no prospects besides living in the shadow of the firstborn.

In times of turmoil and uncertainty, Aemond sought refuge in the timeless embrace of books. Their weight in his hands provided a reassuring sense of substance, their unchanging inked pages promising stability in a world of instability. The authors had already mapped out the characters’ journeys within those hallowed pages, complete with predetermined destinies and unyielding conclusions.

Immersing himself in these literary sanctuaries, Aemond would momentarily escape into realms where he could envision himself as a formidable dragonlord of Old Valyria, astride a majestic and fearsome beast, commanding the submission of his adversaries. While it was the only place where a fleeting sense of happiness fluttered within him, he hesitated to label it as true to the elusive emotion.

As the moon hung high in the sky, Aemond found himself immersed in his usual pursuit of a tome that delved into the intricacies of war strategy. Unlike his niece, he had always eschewed fanciful tales and romantic novels, who took great pleasure in playfully mocking him as “a bore.” Although he never revealed it, her words stung, and he often retorted with a feigned air of anger.

He harbored a deep-seated jealousy towards his niece and nephews, which he vehemently denied. Underneath that denial, there simmered a potent brew of hatred. Aemond’s royal lineage, as the son of a king, set him apart from them, but that fact seemed inconsequential. They were the offspring of his father’s beloved, his sole child, and the source of his utmost joy. Viserys’ grandchildren held an irreplaceable position in his world.

Training sessions were held in the courtyard, and the king’s attendance was for something other than his and Aegon’s. He was there for Luke and Jace, the sons of Rhaenyra. Whenever there was a showcase of skills to display the dancing prowess Helaena and his niece had acquired, the king’s praises were reserved solely for Rhaenyra’s daughter.

Aemond was fiercely determined to outshine his sister’s children and earn his father’s approval. He longed for acknowledgment and validation, believing he possessed talents superior to those of his nephews and niece. Jace struggled with memorizing High Valyrian glyphs, and while Aemond could speak basic sentences, Luke feared his dragon. At the same time, Aemond charged head-first into mounts that did not belong to him, and his niece’s enigmatic challenges bolstered Aemond’s confidence in his abilities.

He struggled to find any significant flaws in her that would be readily apparent to an adult. Aemond observed that her persistent need for validation, love, and recognition, coupled with a hint of arrogance, could be irritating. However, he realized that the impact of these traits as either faults or strengths depended on the recipient of her unwavering loyalty.

His niece would go to lengths for those she sought admiration from, even losing her strong sense of justice when it came to it. Aemond could recall times when she protected Helaena from Aegon’s taunts and torture, nearly breaking his nose in recompense. She was carefree and joyful, unburdened with the weight of duty and pressure he faced, but when it came to the things that mattered, she showed restraint, unlike Aegon. He felt that one day, her fierceness and unapologetic service to the ones she cared for would be her ruination, which Aemond could not wait for.

Though he loathed to admit it, a part of him yearned to inspire that same devotion in someone. Aemond would never want it from his niece. She was not her father’s child. He did not need her love, but he still craved it. Whether it be from someone he despised or not, he would take it.

Aemond’s eyes wandered across the stacked books until he stumbled upon one that piqued his interest. He carefully reached for it, feeling the rough texture of the old parchment underneath his fingertips. As he flipped through the worn pages, he caught a whiff of the distinct fragrance that only old books carried, which spoke of centuries past. Taking a moment to appreciate the weight of history in his hands, he tucked the stiff leather-bound tome under his arm. He exited the library with his index finger delicately hooked in the ring of his lit candle holder, casting flickering shadows around him. The night air enveloped him as he embarked on the journey back to his quarters, the faint aroma of the ancient book lingering in the air around him.

Though he hid it underneath an annoyed facade, Aegon was terrified. He did not want to be king, nor did he want to marry you. He did not want to marry anyone, for that matter. Yes, you were a rather attractive creature, only when you ate , and frequently, he felt less than in your presence, but you were still a silly little girl who saw things for their surface beauty and not in their entirety. You could not comprehend why his mother and grandfather would still force Aegon onto the throne even if he would wed you. 

Despite what the entire lot of you claimed, you and your brothers were bastards. You had no Velaryon features. There was no hint of your father’s dark skin or white hair. Saying that all four of Rhaenyra’s children took Rhaenys’s attributes was stretched too far for any competent person to believe. But it didn’t matter. No amount of reason from Aegon, the Queen, or the court would convince King Viserys or the rest of you where your true parentage lied, not that it mattered to him. 

Hastily, you wiped away the tears and snot of frustration, nodding timidly to Aegon’s silent apology as you shoved a dried orange into your mouth. The pair of you sat in a noiseless trance filled with the sounds of crickets and intermediate chewing, taking sips of your wine. You refused to be the one to break the quiet, seeing as you weren’t the one who caused it. You allowed Aegon to stew with the lie of calling you a bastard as the bubbly liquid dribbled past your lips. 

Your Uncle’s fingers soon wiped away the drops before they could become sticky against your skin. He tended to do it whenever you made a mess of yourself, often when you ate or drank in his presence. You giggled demurely and smiled as you watched him lick the wine from his fingers. Aegon was always so silly like that. It was rare for him to be seen without a lopsided grin on his sharp face. 

The same hand he used to remove the liquid on your chin found itself on your thigh, gradually working his thumb in circles. It startled you. Aegon never touched you without the intent to hurt or shove you somewhere as your muscles clenched, but when no blow or ridicule followed, you relaxed, resting your head on his pointy shoulder as you often did with your brother. 

You enjoyed the happiness touch could bring and often initiated it with whomever would allow you to. You wanted those you met to feel the same comfort you did and to know that you cared for them so much that actions were the only way for you to explain.

“Can I do something, niece? But it must remain our secret,” Aegon whispered into the darkness. The torches whooshing filled the air as the wind swept through the cold night air, casting eerie shadows on the ancient stone walls. The flames danced and swayed, casting a warm, golden glow illuminating your secretive conversation.

Under the obsidian moonless sky, you uttered, “I didn’t tell anyone where I was going tonight. Don’t you trust me?” Hoping to convey sincerity through your expression, you kept your plans a secret from your mother and brother. To them, you were just in bed, peacefully dreaming of riding Gaelithox across the vast lands of Westeros.

Aegon smiled and released a puff of air out of his nose, which you assumed was a laugh, as he began to bunch the skirt of your nightgown in his fist. You hadn’t a clue as to what he was doing, observing him with a curious but unworried expression as his fingers pulled back the small piece of cloth between your legs. Turning your gaze from your Uncle’s hand to his face, you peered at him peculiarly, your head tilted as you observed his concentrated expression, his breathing becoming faster. Aegon’s cheeks and ears were bright pink, beaming like a beacon in the night as you smiled. Even though his face held an intensely focused expression, you could sense satisfaction radiating from him that flowed into you. 

Aegon’s fingers didn’t feel like much as he spread the skin of your privy parts, dragging his digits up and down like he was stroking a swatch of fabric. The sensation was more foreign than anything, like learning to write for the first time. You could feel every ridge and swirl of his fingerprints against your dry skin as he suddenly dipped down into the hole between your legs. It startled you, his single digit causing a slight burn of pain as you jumped in response. 

Your Uncle’s gaze faced you, his once violet eyes now eclipsed with a black that threatened to swallow you whole. He assured you that you were fine, and you felt him move beside you, helping you stand upright, leaning your back against the battlement wall, and rucking your skirt up again. You watched as he fiddled with his breeches, an inquisitive expression pulling your brows taught as he revealed his private  part. 

It wasn’t as if you hadn’t seen one before. You, Jace, and Luke often bathed together with the help of your maids and Mother, but Aegon’s, his, looked different. It was a lot longer than your brother’s, a bright, rosy color standing straight out from his body, unlike the downturn of your siblings. You looked to him for an answer he refused to give, rubbing his member against yours, creating an uncomfortable, raw sensation. 

You didn’t know that those two things could touch each other. It wasn’t a thought in your mind that you could use it like your hand to grasp another, but as long as Aegon was happy, you were happy, so you allowed him to continue doing what he wanted in silence as he spat on your area. You shouted in protest at such a disgusting action, attempting to push him away, but Aegon held onto your waist tightly, forcing you to glide over his manhood. 

“Aegon, that was gross! Why did you spit on me?” you interrogated, attempting to push him away, but Aegon paid you no mind, continuing to rub himself against you in faster motions and quicker breaths. The more he moved, the more your privy area started to hurt, a burning sensation that reminded you of when you slid your knee across a floor rug after falling. It didn’t feel like nothing anymore, and soon you wanted to stop, pushing your Uncle away, but he held. 

“Aegon, you’re hurting me. Please, stop,” you commanded him. But he ignored your plea, his hand positioning his member at an angle as he pushed forward.

You screamed . 

You screamed and screamed and screamed as you shouted for Aegon to stop, a feeling as if a piece of molten metal had stabbed through you, radiating up your entire body and searing your insides. Your Uncle groaned, releasing a sigh of relief as his hands searched for something beside you. He took a fistful of plum and orange slices and shoved them into your mouth to get you to silence. He covered your lips with his palm, forcing you to chew the fruit if you wished not to choke. 

Aegon waited too long for his release, which Alicent had interrupted hours prior. He was not eager to seek out his niece unless with the purpose of gratification. You were so desperate to please him with whatever he asked of you, even if it would harm another, that Aegon found it endearing. He began to imagine a life with someone as devoted as you by his. Would he finally get the validation he desired from his mother and father? Would you allow him to pursue his lust as he wished and welcome him with dutiful arms each time? Your well-being was no longer a thought in his mind. The idea that he could finally have someone who gave him anything he desired and would never be able to leave was far too intoxicating. 

Aemond strolled beneath the crimson stone arches of the Keep, looking forward to slipping into his warm bed and immersing himself in the world of literature that awaited him. The night was serene, devoid of the moon’s glow, causing Blackwater Bay’s tides to remain calm and the air to hang motionless. It seemed like the ideal moment for reading, and he felt a revitalized spring in his stride.

As Aemond strolled past one of the stone parapets of Maegor’s Holdfast, the sounds of a soft, high-pitched voice caught his attention. It piqued his curiosity, making him ponder whether to ignore the sound or investigate. Suddenly, another voice, more urgent and resonant, joined the first. Aemond immediately recognized it as his older brother, Aegon. It seemed that he was attempting, and likely failing, to charm another maid again. Aemond sighed profoundly and glanced toward his chambers, wondering if he should intervene or retire for the evening. 

It was merely a brief stroll. Aemond could have retired to bed without concern for his older brother’s mischief. Nevertheless, he couldn’t bear the thought of disregarding the plight of the unfortunate servant girl and failing to intervene. Aemond Targaryen prided himself on his sense of honor. With each step, he could feel the weight of exhaustion and the burden of his conscience as he ascended the ancient stairs to the battlement. 

He stopped as he reached the top, finding his niece and brother in a state that would cause even the most experienced man to gasp in horror. Aemond observed how Aegon forced himself onto his younger niece, tears clumping her thick lashes and streaming down her cheeks. Shock gave way to anger as he recalled that same bleary face once jeering at his misfortune of not having a dragon, the girl who laughed at Aemond as his eldest brother gave him a pig to ride instead. 

Exhale. Inhale.

The prince remained motionless, a strange sense of eerie tranquility enveloping him. He felt nothing as he slowly retreated, the sound of the scuffle causing you to turn your head abruptly. Amidst the storm’s chaos, with no respite from Aegon’s relentless, tormenting attacks, your gaze locked with Aemond’s, the taste of your tears and ill-gotten gains mingling in the air.

Exhale. Inhale. 

You finally comprehended the significance of Septa Marlow’s teachings on ‘virtue.’ It was more than just a concept, but a tangible essence that one could embody and manifest in their actions. It represented the honor and reverence for one’s existence, acknowledging the inherent value of being alive and holding steadfast to one’s moral principles. Aegon’s actions cruelly deprived you of this intrinsic moral fiber, callously usurping the very essence of your being for his selfish gain.

Exhale. Inhale.

Aegon’s hand pressed firmly over your mouth, cutting off any pleadings as you desperately looked to Aemond for help. Aegon’s knowledge that it was wrong was evident in how he silenced you, his own set of virtues twisted and contorted into something unrecognizable by an external force.

Exhale. Inhale .

Aemond stood frozen on the staircase, one foot on the lower step and the other on the top. His bright purple eyes darted back and forth between you and Aegon. Inside his head, he couldn’t help but feel that you deserved this. He seethed with anger at all the wrongs you and your brothers had done to him. The injustices he felt burned within him—from the mistreatment of the pig to your unworthy existence, to the love and affection you received from his father, which he believed should have been his, and to your manipulation of his mother’s affections, deceiving her into seeing you as anything other than a sinful bastard.

Exhale. Inhale.

Your eyes, the teary pools of dark essence that threatened to pull him beneath it to feel your desperation and helplessness, tore into his soul and exposed his core for only you to see. Aemond was just a child, as were you, thrust into an ill-fated life before he had a name. No longer did you see your Uncle as someone who desired to hurt you but as someone who had hurt , both of you perpetuating the cycle that existed before your conception. You and Aemond were doomed to suffer unless one rose above and changed the narrative. 

Exhale. Inhale. 

“Aegon. What are you doing?” Aemond’s firm voice sounded, rising to the top step. 

His brother jumped in response, abruptly pulling away from you as you collapsed to the ground with a yelp. Aegon attempted to stuff himself back into his breeches as if that could hide what he had done. The blood on his brother’s pale skin made him unable to conceal it. 

“We… We were just having a bit of fun. Weren’t we, niece? We’re to be betrothed after all,” Aegon expressed as he steadied his breathing. “We’re simply celebrating preemptively.” 

As your eldest Uncle reached out his hand, a pleading look in his eyes conveyed a sense of desperation that might have influenced you in the past. However, this time, you met his imploring gaze with steely determination. Your breath caught in your throat as you resolutely pushed his reaching hand away, refusing to succumb to the unspoken agreement it symbolized.

Aegon turned to look at you; his expression was devastated, as if you had deeply wounded him. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips swollen from biting them, a silent attempt to contain his earlier excitement. It was the first time you had rejected his warmth in years, and it felt like you had torn his heart out. Turning his gaze to Aemond, fury replaced the emptiness in his chest as he realized that neither of you moved from your positions, causing his chin to quiver.

You were Aegon’s friend first. He could not change your mind, regardless of how desperately he wished to, and Aegon refused to subject himself to any more rejection as he pushed past Aemond and hurriedly descended the stairs, taking them three at a time, tail tucked between his legs.

You and Aemond remained in your positions for a moment after Aegon departed. As you stood there, your blue cloak draped over your shoulders and white nightgown concealing your slouched figure, tears streaming down your cheeks uncontrollably. Aemond, unsure of how to offer comfort, hesitated awkwardly. He struggled with his emotions as he silently observed you, feeling conflicted and unsettled by the situation’s intensity. He was at war with himself. 

A part of him found satisfaction in seeing you cry, a small measure of justice after enduring Aegon’s taunts for so long, but the other understood the great injustice and consequences you had endured, even if it seemed you did not. All he could do was noiselessly watch as you cried into the emptiness of the night, words of solace stuck in his throat. 

Your body hurt, sore, and trembling in places you had never felt pain before. You were so tired, so drained of life and energy that you felt as if you could sleep right here within the battlements of the Red Keep, but you knew that you would get into trouble if caught. Sneaking out and stealing wine and food from the kitchens would surely get you a reprimand from your mother, which was something you did not want. You were already in serious trouble for disobeying the Dragonkeepers and did not want to further your punishment.

With a great breath from your lungs, you wiped your tears, putting your legs underneath you and pushing yourself up. Severe pain shot through your body as you fell back to the ground with a shriek, skinning your knee. A fresh wave of sobs erupted from your chest, but you held them in and pulled your quivering limbs to stand against the wall. It felt as if you had been horseback riding for hours, your privy place sore and raw. 

Wincing as you made another step, you looked to where Aemond was, expecting him to be gone, but he was still there, gazing at you intently with a serious look on his freckled face. “I need to go to bed before someone discovers I’m gone,” you declared, wordlessly asking your Uncle to help you with your struggle. 

“You need the Maester,” Aemond countered, unmoving, eyes fixed to your feet. “You’re bleeding.” 

Quickly, you looked down to where he stared and saw your pristine white cotton nightgown stained in places with the crimson liquid of your blood. Your knees busted whenever you landed on the stone, red soaking through for all to see. 

“No,” you refused, tousled hair swaying in the wind as you shook it. “I can take care of it myself. Please, just-” Your lungs hiccuped as they tried to return to their regular pattern.  “Help me, Aemond. Please.” 

Your Uncle did not move. His expression curled into a slight grimace as you managed to stand beside him, placing a hand on his bicep. Some of you expected Aemond to walk away when you touched him, but he did not. Instead, he bristled under your damp palm and sucked in a noiseless gasp of air. 

The prince had not felt the act of a tender touch initiated without something negative associated with it since before he could remember. His mother always consoled him after being teased or Aegon guiding him to his misfortune, never just the simple act of human contact.

“What do you want me to do?” Aemond questioned, turning his stiff posture to you. 

“Don’t let me fall,” you softly commanded, a waiver to your voice. You worried Aemond would leave you if you said or did something wrong. You understood him to be very erratic around you in most situations, but you didn’t blame him for it. You were not always kind. 

Like a vision of divine benevolence, your Uncle wrapped an arm around your torso and hooked it around yours in support as he led you down to the torchlight aisles of the palace, using the shadows as cover. Worried that you could not find your way back the way you came, fresh tears sprung free. There would be no hope of hiding your disobedience from your mother if you returned to your chambers from the typical entrance, and the fear caused you to stop your shaky stride. Aemond turned his annoyed face to your frightened one, eyes wide like a fawn caught within the jaws of a wolf as you threw yourself into his embrace. You just needed someone to hold you, to cradle you like your mother did whenever you hurt yourself playing with your brothers. 

Your Uncle stiffened like the cold stone statues in Sept, under unusual affection and uncertain how to proceed. The last time you shared touch like this was in response to ridicule, and immediately, Aemond grabbed your biceps on instinct and attempted to push you away, but the broken cry you released at his rough handling caused him to pause. It was a noise that cut straight through the years of armoring his soul to the torment he suffered, making his nose burn. You were such a happy child, to the point where it irked Aemond, and to see you reduced to such a state even weaker than his after Aegon’s jests broke his hatred-covered heart. 

Perhaps it was because he now had someone else who shared his silent agony, a bond formed with tears and blood. Or because you finally understood how your actions affected those around you. A dark, twisted part of Aemond relished in your pain and hoped you were the victim of more if it meant you would come to him like this, weak and clinging to him as if he was the very air you needed to survive. 

“My mother… I-” you heaved, salty snot dribbling down into your mouth as you attempted to speak. “I can’t go back to my rooms the way I left. She’ll-she will know that I was out this late, and she’ll be upset with me!”

Aemond gazed down at you incredulously, and his upper lip curled in disbelief at how immature you were. No wonder you and Aegon got along. “Your mother will not be cross with you once you tell her what my brother did. Be reasonable,” he commanded as your cheeks glistened in the yellow glow. 

“No, no,” you shook your head vehemently, causing your dark locs to caress your Uncle’s digits and the smell of your citrus oils to waft into the thick air. It was a smell so uniquely yours, and despite Aemond aversion to such scents, he thought they weren’t as horrendous as he initially believed. “She is all ready upset with me for skipping lessons and disobeying the dragonkeepers. She’ll be furious if she finds I snuck out of my room!”

Your thoughts were like a fortress, impenetrable and infused with a heady titian aroma. You had ventured too far beyond the realms of reason, your breath quickening, leaving you feeling weightless and unsteady on your feet. Emotions surged uncontrollably within you, bubbling over like an overfilled pot of boiling water. You clawed at your neck, your face, and your scalp, leaving painful welts in your wake. The intensity was unbearable. The sight churned your Uncle’s stomach, but he couldn’t look away. You yearned to escape from this overwhelming torrent of emotions, to shed them like a second skin.

Aemond watched in paralyzed horror as you clawed at your flesh like a mange-ridden animal, with dark eyes staring a league away from reality. He had never seen something like this before, and it scared him to the bone. A rush of fear gripped him as he thought that you might dig your fingers into your skull and harm yourself. He grabbed your wrists to stop you, but your fingers yanked the roots of your hair, ripping out chunks of tangled brown. 

Aemond gasped in shock as your chest began to take gradually deep breaths, and a sudden serenity came over you, like a warm blanket in winter. An intense expression painted his shadowy countenance as he wrapped his slightly larger hands around yours, taking the clumps and tossing them aside.

“We shall go to my rooms, and we’ll tend to your scrapes,” Aemond stated in finality as you nodded swiftly, swallowing your briny spit. “We’ll need to get rid of your nightdress too. It is…”

Your Uncle could not finish his sentence, his violet eyes trailing to your slippered feet. You knew what he meant. It was covered in blood , and noiselessly, you agreed to his plan without objection as he led you by a single wrist into the barren Keep. 

This was a pact of secrecy sealed with neither words nor a handshake. It was a silent understanding born of shared anguish that you were now forever bound by eternal suffering at the hands of Aegon. Your existences doomed you and Aemond; with that, you would suffer together for eternity. 

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How is everyone after that? Are we okay?

Rape and SA is typically not done with just the intent of sexual gratification, but to have power over someone. It's for the assailant to feel in control over someone who physically or mentally could not counter them. Whether it's because they've been SAed in the past or they feel like they have no control in their lives could be a reason.

When I heard that fact it hit me close to my heart as I was molested when I was a child. I've thought for my entire life that he did it only because he was curious because he was only about 8-9 years older than me, but I realized he most likely did it to me because I was powerless against him and he knew I wanted to be "cool" like him. I was around 6-7 years old.

My personal experience with sexual assault heavily inspired the dialogue and dynamics in this chapter. (Nobody can tell me it wasn't realistic!) Unlike the reader there was no one to help stop it and help me through it. I was so young I didn't even know it was wrong at the time, and even though he went to trial and was a registered sex offender, his record was cleared when he became an adult. In fantasy and real life, crimes like this still go unpunished.

If you, or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, no matter how long ago it was, please talk to someone professionally or go to the authorities if possible. You truly don't realize how it skews your view of sex, love, relationships, and trust until the damage is done and is extremely difficult to work through. I do want to mention quickly as the story progresses you will see how a single act that one perceives as minor can cause you to do things without realizing that's the real reason why.

Thank you again for reading and all the kind words. I hope I can continue to live up to your expectations. (⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @livcookesgf , @nessjo

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon.

I - Ensnared.

II - Counterblow.

III - Slip Away.

IV - Harmonize.

V - Butterfly.

VI - Wrecked.

VII - Eliminate.

VIII - Relinquish.

IX - Displaced.

X - Longing.

XI - Freedom.

XII - Revelations.

XIII - Tranquility.

XIV - Lingering.

XV - Eternal.

XVI - Hēnkirī hae mēre

XVII - Epilogue

XVIII - Exile (Aemond POV)