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hisfavegirl · 2 months ago

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One Mistake - Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Jace Velaryon.

Summary : You, the daughter of Alicent Hightower, once married to Aemond Targaryen, find yourself in a marriage born out of duty rather than love. The relationship with Aemond has always been a battleground of lies and heartache, and the arrival of a child born from his affair with Alys Rivers only deepens the chasm between you both.Heartbroken, betrayed, and feeling utterly alone, you escape the suffocating walls of King’s Landing, seeking solace in Dragonstone with your half-sister, Rhaenyra. In this new chapter of your life, you begin to heal, finding peace in the company of those who truly care for you. Among them is Jace, the son of Rhaenyra, whose quiet affection and steady presence begins to rekindle the spark of hope in your heart.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist.

HOTD Masterlist.

The tension in the air was thick, and your grip on the dagger tightened with every passing second. Aemond stood before you, unnervingly calm, his cold, piercing gaze meeting yours without a hint of fear. His posture remained relaxed, almost as if the weapon at his throat didn’t even faze him. But you couldn’t hold back the wave of fury that surged through you.

“Aemond,” you hissed, your voice laced with venom, “you’ve crossed a line this time.”

Aemond’s gaze shifted, his lips twitching with an almost imperceptible smile. “You always knew who I was, my love,” he replied, his tone ice-cold. “Did you really expect me to be loyal to you when the world has so much more to offer?”

Behind you, you could hear your mother, Alicent, and your sister, Helaena, desperately trying to intervene, pleading for you to put down the dagger. Their words were mere background noise to the storm inside your chest. The rage that had been quietly simmering for so long had finally boiled over.

You had tolerated his affairs, his coldness, his absence, but this�� This was unforgivable. Alys River, the woman from Harrenhal, had come to your doorstep, a newborn in her arms, declaring that Aemond was the father. The mere thought of him being involved with someone else, and now with a child, was enough to break you.

“Is this your child, Aemond?” you spat, the words dripping with anger. “Are you really that heartless? Alys River, that harlot… You never cared about what you did to me, did you?”

Aemond’s eyes flickered, a trace of something—guilt, regret—flickering in them for a moment before he schooled his features back into their usual icy mask.

“I never wanted this, you know,” you said, voice shaking with a mixture of hurt and fury. “I’ve tried, Aemond. I’ve tried to make it work. But you… you’ve made a mockery of everything.”

Your breath was ragged, and the dagger trembled slightly in your hand, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to step back.

Aemond finally spoke, his voice as cold and detached as ever. “Put the dagger down, sister,” he said, his tone almost bored. “You’re not going to do anything.”

But you were done listening to his calm and calculating words. The betrayal had cut too deep, and the anger was too overwhelming. You didn’t care if he thought you were weak or if you would never see him the same way again. You couldn’t forgive him for this.

In a brief moment of clarity, you heard your mother’s voice, soft yet urgent, trying to calm you down. “Please, my child, think about what you’re doing.”

But the damage was already done. There was no coming back from this.

With trembling hands, you dropped the dagger, the metallic clang echoing through the room as it hit the floor. You stepped back from Aemond, his gaze unwavering, his silence deafening. The image of Alys Rivers holding a silver-haired baby replayed in your mind, each recollection stabbing your heart anew. Despair consumed you, the weight of your shattered marriage pressing down on you like a crushing wave.

Without a word, you turned and fled the room, the voices of your mother and sister calling after you lost in the whirlwind of your emotions. Tears streamed down your face as you ran through the halls of the Red Keep, seeking solace, but finding none. The pain was overwhelming, the betrayal unbearable. After what felt like an eternity, your feet led you to the door of your old chamber, the sanctuary you once called home before your marriage to Aemond.

You pushed the door open, only to find Alys Rivers inside, cradling the infant in her arms. Her presence in what was once your refuge felt like a dagger twisting in your heart. She looked up, her expression calm, almost smug.

“Aemond asked me to stay here,” she said, her voice soft, yet cutting. “He wanted me to be comfortable.”

The finality of her words shattered whatever remnants of hope you clung to. Rage and grief intertwined, fueling your steps as you slammed the door shut and stormed back to your marital chambers. The hallways blurred in your vision, your emotions a chaotic storm.

Once inside your chamber, you shut the door and locked it, leaning against the cold wood as your breath came in ragged gasps. The room, once a symbol of your union with Aemond, now felt suffocating.

A soft knock on the door pulled you from your thoughts, followed by Aemond’s voice, calm and composed.

“Let me in,” he said.

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “Why should I?” your voice broke, laced with anger and sorrow. “You’ve made it clear where your loyalties lie.”

There was a pause, then his voice came again, quieter this time. “You are my wife. This is your home.”

You let out a bitter laugh. “A wife you’ve betrayed, a home you’ve filled with deceit. How can you stand there and speak of loyalty?”

Aemond’s silence spoke louder than any words. You turned away from the door, wrapping your arms around yourself, seeking comfort in the emptiness of the room. The weight of his betrayal pressed on you, each moment more unbearable than the last.

You isolated yourself for days, the world outside your chamber fading into a blur. The persistent knocks at your door, the gentle pleas of your mother, the worried whispers of your sister—they all went unanswered. You sat by the window, gazing down at the sharp iron spikes below, their menacing points gleaming in the pale light. The thought crossed your mind, a fleeting, desperate idea, but you dismissed it just as quickly. You were heartbroken, but not mad.

The whispers reached you even in the silence of your solitude, the rumors carried on the wind like a cruel taunt. They spoke of Aemond visiting Alys Rivers’ chambers, cradling his illegitimate son with pride. Each word felt like a dagger twisting in your chest, a fresh wound on top of the ones that already bled.

You thought of the promises Aemond had made to you, the soft words of love whispered in the dark, the vows of loyalty and devotion. They felt like hollow echoes now, every one of them a lie. How easily had he cast aside those vows? How quickly had he turned to another, to Alys, and their child?

Your hand drifted to the windowsill, fingers tracing the cold stone as your mind spiraled deeper into despair. The betrayal consumed you, leaving little room for anything else. The image of Aemond, once a source of comfort and strength, now filled you with anguish. His eyes, once filled with affection, were now a haunting memory of deceit.

Each day felt longer than the last, the weight of his infidelity pressing down on you, suffocating and relentless. You thought of your love, the life you had envisioned together, now reduced to ashes. The future you had once dreamed of seemed distant, almost unreachable, as if it had belonged to another lifetime entirely.

You pulled the thin blanket around you tighter, as if it could shield you from the pain. But nothing could shield you from the truth. The man you loved had betrayed you, and no amount of time could change that.

The searing pain in your abdomen jolted you awake, sharp and relentless, unlike anything you had ever felt before. Instinctively, your hand flew to your stomach, clutching at the source of the agony. Each wave of pain grew stronger, rippling through your body and leaving you breathless. Desperation drove you to rise from your bed, to make your way to the door and seek help, but your legs gave out beneath you. You crumpled to the floor, the cold stone pressing against your skin as you gasped for air.

It was then you noticed the blood pooling between your legs, staining your nightgown and the floor beneath you. Panic surged through you, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps as tears welled up in your eyes. You tried to call out, your voice weak and trembling, barely louder than a whisper. “Help,” you managed, your voice cracking under the weight of fear and pain.

Outside your chamber, your mother’s voice called to you, her tone laced with concern. She had come again, hoping to coax you out of your self-imposed isolation. But this time, as she turned the handle, she found the door unlocked. Pushing it open, she was greeted by a scene that made her blood run cold.

“Aemond!” she cried, her voice echoing through the halls as she rushed to your side. Her hands trembled as she tried to steady you, her heart pounding in her chest. “Someone, help!” she shouted, her voice breaking with desperation.

Aemond arrived moments later, his eyes widening in horror at the sight of you sprawled on the floor, pale and drenched in blood. His feet seemed rooted to the spot, unable to move as he watched you in your fragile state. The guilt in his eyes was unmistakable, but he didn’t dare approach.

The maester arrived swiftly, his presence a blur as he stand beside your bed and assessed the situation. His face was grim as he delivered the devastating news. “She has lost the child,” he said softly, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. “The stress and lack of nourishment have taken their toll.”

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the breath from your lungs. You hadn’t even known you were carrying a child, and now that life was gone, ripped away before you could even comprehend its existence. The sobs wracked your body, uncontrollable and raw, as the reality of your loss settled over you.

Your mother gathered you in her arms, her own tears falling silently as she held you close, offering what little comfort she could. You clung to her, your cries muffled against her shoulder, the pain too immense to bear alone.

Aemond remained on the periphery, his face etched with anguish. He reached out, but then drew back, the weight of his actions pressing down on him. He had betrayed you, and now, in your moment of greatest need, he was powerless to ease your suffering.

In your mother’s embrace, you felt a small measure of solace, but the ache in your heart was far from healed. You had lost your child, and with it, a piece of yourself. The pain would linger, a constant reminder of the love and life that had been taken from you too soon.

The days passed in a blur of pain and sorrow. You remained confined to your chambers, your heart weighed down by the unbearable grief of losing your child. The world outside your room seemed distant, muffled by the heavy fog of your sadness. Your mother, Alicent, and your sister, Helaena, visited frequently, bringing food and comfort. They tried to coax you into eating, but you could only lie listlessly as they fed you, your appetite lost in the depths of your despair.

Aemond had not come to see you since that fateful night. His absence was a bitter reminder of the distance that had grown between you. You had heard the whispers, the murmurs that he spent his nights with Alys Rivers and their illegitimate child. Each rumor cut deeper than the last, fueling your anger and deepening your sorrow. The betrayal burned in your chest, an open wound that refused to heal.

But today was different. As you lay in your bed, the door to your chamber creaked open. Expecting your mother or sister, you turned your head, only to find Aemond standing in the doorway. His expression was cold, his gaze hard as he stared at you.

“I lost my child because of you,” he said, his voice devoid of any warmth or understanding. The accusation hung in the air, heavy and cruel.

You felt your heart shatter anew, his words slicing through the fragile threads that held you together. “How dare you,” you whispered, your voice trembling with rage and sorrow. “How dare you blame me for this.”

The pain and fury erupted from you in a torrent. You screamed at him, your voice raw with anguish. “It was you! It was your betrayal that brought me here! Your lies, your infidelity! You destroyed everything, not me!”

Aemond stood there, silent and unmoved, as you poured your heart out, blaming him for your suffering, for the loss of your child, for the broken pieces of your marriage. The tears streamed down your face, your body shaking with the force of your sobs.

Finally, exhausted and broken, you collapsed back onto the bed, your cries filling the room. The pain was too much to bear, the weight of your grief pressing down on you, suffocating and unrelenting.

A soft voice broke through the haze of your sorrow. Your mother, Alicent, stood at the doorway, her expression a mix of concern and confusion. “Why are you not resting?” she asked gently. “Why are you shouting at Aemond?”

Her presence only seemed to heighten your despair. “Because he blames me, Mother,” you choked out, your voice thick with tears. “He blames me for losing our child, for everything that has gone wrong. But it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault.”

Alicent hurried to your side, her arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. She stroked your hair, murmuring soothing words as you sobbed into her shoulder. Aemond remained by the door, his face unreadable, but he did not approach. The distance between you was more than physical now; it was a chasm filled with unspoken words, broken promises, and irreparable pain.

As your mother held you, your tears finally began to subside, leaving behind a hollow ache in your chest. The pain would not disappear, but for now, you found solace in the comfort of your mother’s arms, even as your heart ached with the loss and betrayal that Aemond had left in his wake.

The pain of Aemond’s betrayal was no longer something you could endure. His indifference, the whispers of his continued affair with Alys Rivers and the child that belonged to her, cut deeper each day. You couldn’t bear to stay in the Red Keep any longer, not with the constant reminder of what you had lost. Tonight, you made a decision: you would leave. You would find peace away from the walls of King’s Landing, away from Aemond and the deceit.

The cold night air filled your lungs as you quietly made your way through the corridors of the Red Keep, your heart pounding with the weight of your decision. You couldn’t stay here. You couldn’t bear another day in that house of betrayal and lies. You had to go, and Dragonstone would be your refuge, the one place where you could find solace in the company of your sister, Rhaenyra, and her family.

With a heavy heart, you made your way to the stables. The quiet rustle of the night was the only sound that accompanied your footsteps. The guards, bribed and loyal, had cleared the way for you, their eyes flicking nervously around as they ensured no one would stop you. You quickly saddled your horse, the familiar motions of preparing your steed offering a brief distraction from the turmoil inside you.

Once mounted, you headed for the Dragonpit, the shadows of the night enveloping you as you approached the towering structure. There, waiting for you, was Sharapis, your dragon. His massive form loomed in the shadows, his eyes gleaming as you approached. You had always felt a connection to him, a bond forged from years of companionship and shared journeys.

“Sharapis,” you whispered softly as you mounted his back, the dragon’s scales glimmering in the moonlight. His wings stretched out as if eager to fly, and with a single command, you took off into the night sky, soaring toward Dragonstone.

The flight was exhilarating, the wind rushing through your hair as you felt the freedom that had long been denied you. But beneath it all was the ache of betrayal, the loss of a child you had never even known, and the quiet despair that had taken root in your soul. The journey felt both endless and too short, your thoughts lost in the vastness of the night.

As you descended toward Dragonstone, you could see the familiar silhouette of the castle looming in the distance. Your heart fluttered with a mix of relief and uncertainty. You had made the decision to leave everything behind, but now that you were here, would it be enough to heal the wounds Aemond had inflicted?

When Sharapis landed, you dismounted and quickly made your way into the castle. The cold stone floors echoed beneath your feet as you walked toward the heart of Dragonstone. The guards at the entrance saw you and immediately went to alert Rhaenyra and Daemon. The sounds of hurried footsteps soon followed as your half-sister and her husband arrived, her face filled with surprise and concern.

“Why have you come here?” Rhaenyra asked, her voice soft yet filled with urgency. She could see the state you were in, the exhaustion and pain written across your features. “What has happened?”

You took a deep breath, your eyes meeting hers. “I couldn’t stay there anymore,” you confessed, your voice breaking slightly. “Aemond… He’s with her again, and I can’t bear it. I lost our child, Rhaenyra, and I can’t stay in the place that reminds me of all the lies and betrayal. I need to get away, to heal, and I couldn’t stay in King’s Landing a moment longer.”

Rhaenyra stepped closer, her hands reaching for yours. “You are always welcome here,” she said with conviction. “You don’t have to face this alone. Whatever happened, whatever you need, we will help you through it.”

The warmth of her support was a balm to your broken heart. You felt the weight of the world slowly begin to lift as she surrounded you with love and understanding. She hadn’t asked for details, and she didn’t need to. You could see in her eyes that they understood.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and you couldn’t hold them back any longer. The weight of the journey, the betrayal, the grief of losing your child, and the decision to leave it all behind finally caught up with you. In the safety of Dragonstone, you allowed yourself to break down, to grieve openly, knowing that here, at least, you would not be alone.

Rhaenyra held you tightly, offering you the comfort you so desperately needed, while Daemon stood a few steps behind, his gaze never leaving you.

“You will find peace again,” Rhaenyra whispered. “Here, with us, you are safe.”

As the morning sun cast its golden light over the Red Keep, your mother, Alicent, made her way to your chamber with a calm determination. She had come to check on you, as she did every morning, hoping that today might bring a glimmer of progress in your healing. However, as she gently pushed open the door, she was met with an empty room. Her heart skipped a beat, a sense of unease creeping in as she took in the sight of your untouched bed and the quiet stillness of the space.

Her eyes quickly fell upon a piece of parchment resting on the pillow. With trembling hands, she picked it up, unfolding it carefully. The words written in your familiar hand made her breath catch in her throat.

“Mother, do not worry about me, and do not try to find me. I have gone where I can heal and find peace. Please, annulled the arrangement of my marriage with Aemond. It is over. There is nothing left for me here.”

Alicent’s fingers tightened around the letter as a surge of emotions washed over her—relief that you were safe enough to leave a note, sadness at your departure, and a rising fury toward the one who had driven you to such despair.

Clutching the letter tightly, Alicent turned on her heel, her face set in a mask of anger. She knew exactly where to find Aemond. Her footsteps echoed loudly in the hallways as she marched toward your old chamber, the one where she knew Aemond was staying with Alys and their illegitimate child. Each step fueled her anger, her mind racing with thoughts of how Aemond had betrayed not only you but also the family’s honor.

When she reached the door, she didn’t bother to knock. Instead, she pushed it open with force, her eyes blazing as she entered. Inside, she found Aemond standing near the window, Alys seated with the infant in her arms. The air in the room grew tense as they turned to face her, Alys’s expression a mixture of surprise and smug satisfaction.

Aemond’s usual calm demeanor faltered as he saw the letter in Alicent’s hand and the fire in her eyes. “Mother,” he began, but Alicent cut him off, her voice cold and sharp.

“Do not ‘Mother’ me,” she snapped, holding up the letter. “Explain this. Explain why my daughter, your wife, felt the need to flee from her home in the dead of night because of your actions.”

Aemond’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing, his gaze flickering briefly to Alys, who remained silent, cradling her child.

“You have disgraced our family,” Alicent continued, her voice trembling with controlled rage. “You have broken her heart, her spirit. And now, you will face the consequences. I will see to it that this marriage is annulled. She deserves better than this, better than you.”

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line, but he did not argue. The weight of his actions hung heavily in the room, and even Alys seemed uncomfortable under Alicent’s furious gaze.

“I will not allow this to continue,” Alicent declared. “You will leave her be. You will not pursue her, and you will not bring further shame upon this family.”

With that, Alicent turned on her heel, her grip on the letter unrelenting as she strode out of the room. Her heart ached for you, for the pain you had endured, but she was resolute. She would do everything in her power to protect you and to ensure that you found the peace you deserved.

Almost two years had passed since you left the Red Keep behind, finding solace and a new beginning in Dragonstone. The pain and betrayal you once felt had slowly been replaced by the warmth of your family, especially Rhaenyra and her children. Your days were now filled with laughter and peace, and the exchange of letters with your mother had become a comforting routine. She had informed you that the annulment of your marriage to Aemond had been finalized, a message that brought a profound sense of relief. You were free, truly free, from the chains of a past that had once broken you.

Life in Dragonstone had become your sanctuary. The walls, the sea, and the skies felt like home, a place where you could breathe and live without the shadows of your past looming over you. In this haven, you had grown close to Jace. His kindness, his understanding, and his gentle presence had slowly woven their way into your heart. He had been a constant source of support, offering you companionship and care as you healed from the wounds Aemond had left behind.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the castle, Jace asked you to walk with him along the cliffs. The salty breeze played with your hair as you strolled side by side, the silence between you comfortable and familiar. Jace had always been thoughtful, but tonight there was a certain tension in the air, a nervous energy you hadn’t felt from him before.

He paused near the edge of the cliff, the crashing waves below providing a soothing backdrop to the moment. Turning to face you, he took a deep breath, his eyes searching yours with a mix of hope and vulnerability.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time,” he began, his voice steady but laced with emotion. “You’ve been through so much, and yet, here you are, strong and resilient. Being with you these past two years has been the happiest time of my life.”

Your heart began to race, a mixture of anticipation and surprise swirling within you.

“I know you might think it’s too soon, or that you’re not ready, but I need you to know how I feel,” he continued, reaching for your hands and holding them gently. “I love you, and I want to spend my life with you. Will you marry me?”

His words hung in the air, filled with sincerity and love. You could see the earnestness in his eyes, the way he waited anxiously for your response, hoping you felt the same.

For a moment, memories of the past flickered in your mind, but they were quickly overshadowed by the warmth of the present, the life you had built here, the love that had grown between you and Jace. He had been patient, never rushing you, always understanding.

A soft smile spread across your face as you squeezed his hands. “Yes, Jace,” you whispered, tears of joy welling in your eyes. “I’ll marry you.”

His face lit up with relief and happiness, and before you knew it, he had pulled you into a tight embrace, holding you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. In his arms, you felt safe, loved, and ready to begin this new chapter of your life, a chapter filled with love, hope, and the promise of a future together.

As you and Jace walked hand in hand back into the castle, your hearts were light with joy and anticipation. The corridors of Dragonstone felt warmer tonight, the stone walls echoing with the soft whispers of your shared future. When you reached the great hall, Rhaenyra and Daemon were seated by the hearth, engaged in a quiet conversation. Their attention shifted as you both entered, Jace leading you forward.

Jace’s hand squeezed yours gently as he addressed his mother. “Mother, we have something to share,” he began, his voice filled with excitement. “We’ve decided to marry. She has agreed to be my wife.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes lit up with happiness, a broad smile spreading across her face. She stood and stepped forward, taking both your hands in hers. “This is wonderful news,” she said, her voice warm with genuine joy. “I am so happy for both of you.”

Her embrace was tight and filled with love, as if welcoming you fully into her family. It was a moment of acceptance and celebration, her blessing clear and heartfelt.

However, as your eyes shifted to Daemon, his expression was more reserved. His jaw tightened slightly, and though he didn’t speak immediately, you could sense the conflict within him. The legacy of your mother, Alicent, and the tensions that had long simmered between their families were not easily forgotten. Yet, he held his tongue, his gaze meeting yours with a guarded intensity.

“Congratulations,” Daemon finally said, his tone measured, but his words carrying a hint of reluctance. He rose to his feet, standing beside Rhaenyra. “I trust you will make each other happy.”

Though his words were polite, there was an underlying tension. He didn’t openly oppose the union, but it was clear he harbored reservations, likely due to the history that bound your families in strife.

Jace, sensing the unease, stepped closer to you, his arm wrapping protectively around your waist. “We understand this isn’t easy,” he said, addressing Daemon directly. “But we love each other, and we want to build a future together. That’s all that matters.”

Daemon’s eyes flicked to Jace, then back to you. After a long moment, he gave a slight nod, perhaps acknowledging the sincerity in Jace’s words, or perhaps choosing to set aside his reservations for the sake of peace.

Rhaenyra, ever the peacemaker, placed a hand on Daemon’s arm, a silent plea for understanding. “What matters is that they’ve found happiness in each other,” she said softly. “Let’s celebrate that.”

Daemon exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing ever so slightly. “Very well,” he conceded, though his tone was still tinged with reluctance. “Let it be a union of love.”

Relieved, you smiled, feeling Jace’s reassuring presence beside you. Rhaenyra’s enthusiasm and Daemon’s begrudging acceptance were enough to make this moment a hopeful beginning. The path forward wouldn’t be without challenges, but together, you knew you could face whatever came your way.

The day of your wedding dawned quietly, the morning mist wrapping Dragonstone in a serene embrace. Unlike the grand, ostentatious ceremonies you had once known, this day was intimate, marked by simplicity and the presence of only those closest to your heart. The small gathering was a reflection of the love you shared with Jace, a quiet yet profound celebration of a new beginning.

As you prepared in your chambers, Rhaenyra stood by your side, her presence a comforting anchor in the swirl of your emotions. She watched as you adjusted the delicate fabric of your gown, a soft smile playing on her lips. “You’ve been through so much,” she said, her voice gentle yet firm. “But today is about you—your happiness, your future. You deserve this joy, and I’m so proud of you.”

Her words were a balm to your nerves, and you felt a wave of gratitude for her unwavering support. She had been more than a half-sister; she had become a true sister, a confidante in your darkest hours. Her hand found yours, squeezing it reassuringly. “This is your moment,” she whispered. “Take it, and let yourself be happy.”

When the time came, you walked towards the small altar where Jace awaited, his eyes fixed on you with a mixture of love and awe. His presence was calming, his steady gaze promising a life of mutual respect and affection. The warmth of his smile as you reached his side steadied your racing heart, and the nervous flutter in your stomach eased as he took your hands in his.

The ceremony was brief, the words spoken simple yet heartfelt. Rhaenyra and Daemon stood beside you, their presence a testament to the new family you were building. Alicent’s absence was felt, but her blessings had been given through her letters, and you carried her love in your heart.

As the vows were exchanged, you felt a profound sense of peace wash over you. This was not a union born of duty or political gain, but one of genuine affection and shared dreams. Jace’s hand in yours was a promise, a symbol of the partnership you were forging together.

When the ceremony concluded, and you were declared husband and wife, the small gathering erupted in soft applause. Jace leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that sealed your new bond, a gentle reminder of the love that had brought you to this moment.

Later, as the day faded into night and the candles in the great hall flickered softly, you found yourself beside Jace, the simplicity of the day leaving you content. The weight of the past began to lift, replaced by the promise of a future filled with hope and love.

Rhaenyra’s words echoed in your mind, a reminder that you had earned this happiness. And as Jace’s arm wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer, you knew that this was the beginning of a new chapter—one where you could finally find the peace and joy you had longed for.

Time seemed to slip through your fingers like grains of sand, each day blending seamlessly into the next. It felt as though only yesterday you and Jace stood before the small gathering, exchanging vows. Yet, here you were, sitting in the sun-dappled garden with Rhaenyra, her laughter mingling with the soft coos of little Aegon in her arms. The gentle breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers, and you rested a hand on your growing belly, feeling the life stirring within.

Rhaenyra’s teasing smile was as radiant as ever, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “You know,” she began, a playful lilt in her voice, “Daemon and I couldn’t sleep for weeks after your wedding. The walls here are not as thick as you might think.” Her laughter was infectious, and you felt your cheeks flush with warmth as you looked away, embarrassed yet unable to suppress a giggle.

“Rhaenyra!” you protested, your tone a mixture of shock and amusement. The memories of those early days—filled with love, passion, and whispered promises—were vivid in your mind. The bond between you and Jace had deepened quickly, the love you shared blooming into something even more profound.

“But look at the result,” Rhaenyra continued, her gaze dropping to your rounded belly. “It seems all that…enthusiasm bore fruit.” Her hand reached out, covering yours as it rested on your stomach. “You’re glowing, and soon you’ll have a little one of your own.”

The thought filled you with a mix of excitement and nervousness. The prospect of becoming a mother, of bringing a new life into the world, was both thrilling and daunting. But the support of Jace, Rhaenyra, and the family you had found in Dragonstone gave you strength.

Rhaenyra’s voice softened, the teasing edge replaced with genuine warmth. “You’ll be an amazing mother,” she said. “This child will be so loved, surrounded by a family that cherishes them.”

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips as you felt a kick from within, a gentle reminder of the life growing inside you. The future was filled with promise, and as you sat there, surrounded by love and laughter, you felt a profound sense of peace.

“Thank you, Rhaenyra,” you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. “For everything.”

Rhaenyra squeezed your hand, her expression one of sisterly affection. “We’re family,” she replied. “And we take care of our own.”

As the sun began to set, casting a golden glow over the garden, you leaned back in your chair, contentment washing over you. The journey had been long and fraught with challenges, but now, with a new life growing within you and a family that stood by your side, you felt ready to embrace whatever the future held.

Jace had grown into a devoted and attentive husband, always watching over you with a protective fervor that bordered on overbearing. His love and concern were palpable, and while you appreciated his attentiveness, there were moments when you wished for a bit more freedom. Today was one such instance.

As you sat in the garden with Rhaenyra, basking in the afternoon sun, you heard Jace calling your name. His voice, laced with a mixture of worry and relief, reached you before he did. You turned to see him striding towards you, his brow furrowed, still slightly sweaty from his training session with Luke.

“Where have you been?” he asked, his tone gentle yet firm. “I looked for you in our chambers, but you weren’t there.”

You offered a reassuring smile, hoping to ease his concerns. “I was just spending some time with your mother in the garden. I didn’t want to disturb your training, and I felt like getting some fresh air.”

Jace knelt beside you, his hands gently cradling your face as he searched your eyes for any sign of discomfort or distress. “You should have told me,” he murmured. “I don’t like you wandering around alone, especially not now.”

His gaze flicked to your growing belly, a tender smile tugging at his lips. The worry in his eyes softened, replaced by the gentle adoration he always showed when thinking about the child you were carrying.

“I’m fine, Jace,” you reassured him, placing a hand over his. “Rhaenyra was with me the whole time.”

Rhaenyra chuckled softly from her seat, watching the exchange with amusement. “Jace, she’s perfectly safe here. You don’t need to hover over her every moment.”

“I can’t help it,” Jace admitted, his cheeks coloring slightly. “I just…I worry.”

You squeezed his hand, appreciating his concern but also wanting him to understand. “I know, and I love that you care so much. But I need you to trust that I’ll take care of myself too.”

He nodded, sighing softly as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll try. But I’ll always worry about you.”

Standing, Jace offered his hand to help you up, his protective nature not allowing him to let you rise on your own. “Come on, let’s get you inside. It’s getting cooler.”

With his arm around your waist, guiding you carefully back to the castle, you felt a sense of warmth and security. Jace’s love, though sometimes overwhelming, was steadfast and unwavering. It was a love you cherished, knowing that it came from a place of deep devotion and care.

As you entered your shared chamber, Jace guided you gently to the bed, urging you to sit and rest. He knelt before you, deftly removing your shoes, his fingers tenderly massaging your ankles. His touch was soothing, filled with care, as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your growing belly. His hands caressed your abdomen, his lips following with a whisper meant for the baby you both eagerly awaited.

“You’ve been so good to your mother,” Jace murmured, his voice full of affection. “We can’t wait to meet you.”

You smiled down at him, your fingers threading through his hair as you basked in the warmth of the moment. The quiet intimacy was interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and a servant entered, carrying a sealed letter. The servant handed it to you with a respectful bow before retreating.

Curiosity piqued, you broke the seal, recognizing the familiar handwriting of your mother, Alicent. The contents of the letter were an invitation to return to King’s Landing for a grand celebration in honor of King Viserys’s birthday. Your heart skipped a beat as you read her request, knowing the importance of the occasion. It was not just a celebration for the realm’s ruler, but a family gathering—a chance to reconnect with your roots.

You looked up at Jace, who had been observing your reaction closely. “It’s from my mother,” you explained, handing him the letter. “She’s inviting us to King’s Landing for my father’s birthday celebration.”

Jace’s eyes scanned the letter, his brow furrowing slightly as he considered the implications. “Do you want to go?” he asked, his concern evident. “I know things are… complicated with your family.”

You sighed softly, placing a hand over his. “It’s complicated, yes. But it’s also important. Rhaenyra and Daemon will likely want to attend, and it’s a chance for me to see my family, despite everything. I think we should go.”

Jace nodded, his expression thoughtful. “If that’s what you want, we’ll go. But I’ll be by your side the whole time. I won’t let anything happen to you or our child.”

His protective nature reassured you, easing some of the anxiety that had begun to creep in. “Thank you, Jace. I feel better knowing you’ll be with me."

As the two of you sat together, contemplating the journey ahead, a sense of anticipation mingled with the lingering tension of old wounds. The road to King’s Landing would not just be a physical journey, but an emotional one as well—a step towards confronting the past and embracing whatever the future might hold for your family.

The towering spires of the Red Keep came into view, casting long shadows over the bustling port of King’s Landing. You stood at the edge of the ship’s deck, the sea breeze tugging at your gown as you gazed at the familiar yet distant city. Jace was at your side, his arm a comforting presence around your waist, his hand resting protectively over the swell of your belly. His touch was a constant reminder that, no matter what awaited you in the capital, you were not alone.

You turned your head slightly, catching sight of Rhaenyra and Daemon nearby. They, too, were watching the city approach, their expressions a mix of resolve and nostalgia. For them, like for you, this was more than just a visit—it was a return to a place filled with memories, both bitter and sweet.

Leaning into Jace’s shoulder, you allowed yourself a moment of quiet respite, closing your eyes as his arms encircled you. The journey had been taxing, especially given your current condition, and the looming prospect of facing your past weighed heavily on your mind. Yet, in Jace’s embrace, you found a sense of peace and strength, a reminder of the life you were building together, far removed from the shadows of King’s Landing.

Jace pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, his voice soft and reassuring. “We’ll get through this together,” he whispered. “No matter what happens, I’ll be here.”

You nodded, clutching his hand a little tighter. The city grew larger, its walls drawing closer as the ship made its final approach. The sight of it stirred a whirlwind of emotions within you—anticipation, dread, hope. As the Red Keep loomed ever nearer, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the days to come. You had left this place as a broken woman, but now you were returning stronger, with a family of your own to protect and cherish.

Whatever awaited you within those stone walls, you knew that with Jace by your side, you could face it.

As you stepped down carefully from the carriage, the bustling courtyard of the Red Keep greeted you with its usual cacophony. Servants scurried about, arms laden with decorations and provisions for the grand celebration planned for King Viserys’s birthday. The air buzzed with excitement, yet you felt a weariness settle over you, the long journey from Dragonstone taking its toll.

Jace was immediately at your side, his hand steadying you as he helped you out of the carriage. His eyes searched yours, concern etched across his face. “Are you all right?” he asked gently, his voice barely audible over the din around you.

You nodded, though exhaustion weighed heavily on your shoulders. “Just tired,” you admitted softly.

Rhaenyra and Daemon approached, their expressions a mix of anticipation and something else—perhaps trepidation—given the complex dynamics that awaited within the Keep. As they prepared to make their way toward the throne room to greet King Viserys, you turned to Rhaenyra with a small, apologetic smile.

“Would it be all right if we went straight to our chambers?” you asked. “I need to rest.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened with understanding, and she nodded. “Of course,” she said. “Take your time. We’ll see you at the feast later.”

Daemon gave a brief nod of agreement, his gaze lingering on you for a moment before he turned to follow his wife into the heart of the Keep.

With Jace’s arm firmly around your waist, you made your way through the familiar halls of the Red Keep. The grand corridors seemed both unchanged and yet different, imbued with memories that felt like they belonged to another life. As you walked, you couldn’t help but notice the way the servants’ eyes widened in shock at the sight of you. Whispers followed in your wake, their astonishment clear as they took in the sight of the daughter of Alicent Hightower, once married to Prince Aemond, now heavily pregnant and walking arm in arm with Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

Jace’s grip on you tightened, a silent show of support against the unspoken judgments that hung in the air. He leaned in close, his voice a low murmur meant only for you. “Let them stare,” he said, a hint of defiance in his tone. “They don’t know your strength, or ours.”

You glanced up at him, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite your fatigue. His unwavering support was a balm to your frayed nerves, and you found comfort in the steady rhythm of his steps beside you.

As you finally reached the familiar doors of your chambers, Jace opened them for you, ushering you inside before closing the door firmly behind you. The quiet of the room was a welcome reprieve from the noise outside. He guided you to the bed, helping you sit before kneeling in front of you, his hands resting on your knees.

“You’ve been incredible through all of this,” he said, his eyes full of admiration. “Rest now. I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

You nodded, your heart swelling with gratitude and love. As you lay back against the pillows, Jace settled beside you, his presence a reassuring anchor in a world that still felt uncertain.

As you turned, the door to your chambers slowly creaked open, and there, standing in the doorway, was your mother, Alicent, her eyes filled with unshed tears. Beside her stood Heleana, your sister, who looked at you with a mixture of concern and love. They both stepped inside, and without a word, they enveloped you in a warm embrace.

The familiar scent of your mother’s perfume and the comforting presence of Heleana brought a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you longed for. You felt a lump form in your throat as your mother spoke, her voice thick with emotion.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered, her hand gently brushing through your hair. Heleana joined in, wrapping her arms around you, her voice soft but filled with affection. “We’ve both missed you.”

Tears welled in your eyes, not just from the pain of the past but from the sudden realization that despite everything, they were here, with you now. You had built a new life, but the love of family—those who truly cared—was something that always remained.

Your mother, pulling back slightly, gazed at Jace, who had stood silently by your side, his protective arm still around you. She took a deep breath before speaking again, her voice steady but laden with regret. “I… I want to thank you, Jace,” she said, her words sincere. “For giving her what she truly deserves. For loving her the way she should have always been loved.”

She paused, her gaze shifting to the floor briefly before lifting it again to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” she continued, her voice now tinged with sorrow. “For everything. The way I treated you, and your family. You did not deserve that.”

Jace, ever the steady presence, simply nodded, his eyes softening as he met her gaze. “It’s in the past,” he replied gently. “We move forward now.”

A brief silence followed, the weight of the past few years hanging between them. But in this moment, there was understanding, a step toward healing. Your mother’s apology, though not easy for her to give, had an undeniable sincerity. You could see it in the way her hands trembled slightly as she clasped her own in front of her.

Heleana, who had been silently observing, finally spoke up, her voice gentle. “You deserve happiness, both of you,” she said, her eyes filled with warmth. “I’m happy for you. For the family you’ve created.”

Her words were like a balm to the wounds that had been left untreated for so long. And as the room settled into a peaceful silence, you felt an overwhelming sense of relief. It wasn’t just the apology or the reconciliation—it was the simple truth that, despite everything, you had a family that still cared for you, and that love was worth rebuilding.

Your mother’s gentle hand traced your growing belly, her touch warm and tender, as she smiled softly at you. “You look radiant,” she said, her voice full of affection, her eyes glimmering with love. She kissed your forehead, a motherly gesture that made your heart swell. “I’m so proud of you,” she added quietly, her voice filled with emotions she didn’t often let slip.

Rhaenyra, who had been moving around the room, paused to look at you. Her expression softened, a knowing smile curving on her lips. “You should rest,” she said, stepping forward to help with your things despite your protests. “Let us do this. You’re carrying the future, after all.”

You tried to decline, wanting to take care of things yourself, but Rhaenyra was insistent, and her tone was kind but firm. “It’s not about what you can do—it’s about what we can do for you now.” With that, she motioned to her attendants, who began to unpack your belongings and arrange them carefully.

Despite your desire to remain independent, there was something comforting in the care they showed you. Rhaenyra’s presence felt like a reminder of the family bonds you had begun to rebuild, and your mother’s soft touch was a reminder that, despite everything, love had endured.

You sighed, a sense of peace settling over you as you allowed them to help. It was clear that both your mother and Rhaenyra wanted to support you—especially now, during this delicate time. Their kindness, in its simplicity, was more than you had ever expected. It was healing in its own way, allowing you to finally feel at ease, even amidst all the changes in your life.

As the room began to take shape with the items that had been moved and arranged, Rhaenyra smiled at you. “You deserve this happiness. You deserve to rest, to be cared for.”

Your heart swelled with gratitude, and you reached out, squeezing Rhaenyra’s hand gently. “Thank you,” you said softly, knowing that no matter the journey you’d been on, this moment—this sense of family—was the true gift.

You let out a small, frustrated sigh as you looked at the dresses hanging before you. The reality of your growing belly settled in as you tried on one gown after another, only to find that none of them fit quite like they used to. Each attempt left you feeling more disheartened. The grand celebration tonight, your chance to present yourself to the court and your family, was approaching, but the idea of not having anything suitable to wear only made you feel more exposed.

You muttered under your breath, cursing softly at the fact that none of your formal gowns fit anymore. “Why did it have to be tonight?” you mumbled, feeling a growing sense of annoyance. The last thing you wanted was to feel like you were drawing attention to the changes in your body—something that had already been the source of too many complicated emotions.

As you stepped out of the gown you had just tried on, you caught a glimpse of your reflection in the mirror. For a moment, you stared at yourself, unsure of how to feel. The weight of everything—the pregnancy, the marriage, the responsibility—had taken its toll. And yet, beneath the surface, there was a flicker of excitement. Tonight was about celebrating, about reclaiming some sense of joy after everything you had been through.

You shook off your frustration and took a deep breath. You needed to find something, something that would make you feel confident. After all, this night was not just about appearances—it was about embracing who you had become, and all that you were carrying with you, literally and figuratively.

Just as you were about to give up, a familiar voice called out from the door.

“Need a little help?” Jace stood there, leaning against the frame of the door, his usual warmth and concern written on his face.

You smiled softly at him, despite the frustration bubbling inside. “I can’t find anything that fits for tonight,” you admitted, your voice tinged with exasperation.

You blinked in surprise as Jace gestured toward one of the servants. “Please bring the dress I’ve prepared for her,” he said with a smile, his voice carrying the tone of someone who knew exactly what was needed. You watched in confusion as the servant returned with a beautiful gown in her hands.

The gown was a striking combination of deep red and black, the colors of House Targaryen. It was unlike any of the dresses you had worn before—bold, yet elegant, fitting for the occasion. You could hardly believe it when Jace explained.

“I knew the formal gowns wouldn’t fit you anymore, so I had something made for you,” Jace said softly, walking over to you with a small smile on his lips. “I wanted you to feel like yourself tonight, regardless of… well, everything else.”

As the servant helped you into the gown, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of gratitude and warmth toward Jace. It was so thoughtful of him, and it showed how much he cared. The fabric fit comfortably, accentuating your form without being too tight, and the colors seemed to shimmer in the soft light of the room.

Jace stepped back, eyes scanning the gown with a proud glint in his eyes. “What do you think? Does it fit?”

You twirled around in the gown, the fabric flowing gracefully with each movement. It felt different from the gaudy or tight dresses you were used to—this one felt like it had been made just for you, a perfect blend of your strength, your heritage, and the love that surrounded you now.

“It’s perfect,” you said, smiling at him with genuine appreciation. “Thank you, Jace. This means more than you know.”

He grinned, the light in his eyes soft and affectionate. “Anything to make you feel special tonight,” he said. “And I think you already do.”

Your heart fluttered with a mix of emotions, but above all, you felt a deep sense of peace. With Jace by your side, you could face whatever the night held. And for the first time in a long while, you felt ready.

You stood before the mirror, gazing at your reflection, the elegant gown hugging your growing form. The deep red and black fabric seemed to hold your essence, a blend of strength and grace. Jace stood behind you, his arms wrapped gently around you, his hand resting on your swollen belly. The warmth of his touch grounded you, and a sense of peace settled in your chest.

As you stared into the mirror, you felt a small sigh escape your lips. The life you once knew, with its chaos and heartbreak, felt so far away now. The man behind you—Jace—was all you had ever wanted in a partner. He loved you not because of duty or obligation, but because he truly saw you. The love he gave was not a burden; it was a gift, something you’d never known you needed but now couldn’t live without.

Jace’s voice, soft and tender, broke the silence. “You look beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, his lips brushing against your skin as he spoke. “I can’t believe how lucky I am to have you.”

His words made your heart flutter. There was no resentment, no bitterness in his tone—just pure love. You turned your head slightly, catching his gaze in the mirror. His eyes were full of warmth, tenderness, and sincerity. His fingers moved slowly over your belly, caressing it as if holding your unborn child in reverence.

“I love you,” Jace whispered again, his voice a soothing melody that filled your heart with warmth. “More than you’ll ever know.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, savoring the feeling of his embrace. It was so different from the cold, harsh reality you had once endured. With Jace, there was no fear, no uncertainty—only love, acceptance, and a future that felt brighter than anything you had ever imagined.

“I love you too,” you murmured back, your voice thick with emotion. “You make me feel safe. Happy.”

The moment stretched between you, both of you simply holding each other in the silence. It felt right—like this was where you were always meant to be. Aemond’s betrayal, the heartache you had suffered, seemed distant and small now, swallowed by the love and comfort that Jace had given you.

“Tonight,” Jace said softly, breaking the quiet, “We’ll celebrate our new life. But for now, it’s just you and me. I’m so grateful for this—grateful for you.”

You smiled, turning in his arms to face him completely. He leaned in to kiss you, a soft, gentle kiss that conveyed everything words could not. His love was overwhelming, and in his arms, you felt whole again—no longer the broken woman from before, but a woman who had been healed by the love of her true partner.

In this moment, nothing else mattered. Tonight, you would share the joy of your new beginning, but for now, you were content in the stillness, with Jace by your side, loving you like no one ever had before.

As you walked side by side with Jace into the grand hall, the sounds of laughter and celebration filled the air. The atmosphere was lively, but as soon as you entered, a hush fell over the room. All eyes turned toward you. The weight of their gaze was undeniable, but it was Jace’s presence beside you that steadied your steps, grounding you amidst the scrutiny.

Your heart fluttered with nerves, but Jace’s hand held yours firmly, his reassuring touch offering you solace. You walked confidently toward your father, Viserys, who sat at the head of the table. A smile spread across his face as he looked at you, his eyes softening as they landed on your belly. He stood to greet you, his voice warm and welcoming.

“Congratulations,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to your swollen belly before returning to meet your eyes. “I am so happy for both of you.”

You smiled back, the words of your father bringing a small sense of comfort. Jace squeezed your hand, his pride evident in the way he stood next to you. For a moment, the world seemed to narrow to just the two of you and your new beginning.

But as you made your way forward, you couldn’t ignore the intense gaze from across the room. Aemond sat at the far end of the table, his cold eyes locked onto you and Jace. His expression was unreadable, his lips set in a tight line as he stared without saying a word. Next to him, Alys sat silently, her child resting in her lap—an image that seemed to freeze your heart.

The sight of Aemond, his gaze piercing and distant, brought a tightness to your chest. You could feel his disapproval radiating from him, a silent accusation in his eyes. The child in his lap, a reminder of his betrayal, only added to the tension that pulsed between you.

You could almost hear the silent words between you and him, unspoken but heavy in the air. But you refused to let it affect you. You had moved on. You had found a new life, a new family in Jace, and no matter how Aemond looked at you, it didn’t change that.

Jace’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a subtle reminder of his unwavering support. He could feel the shift in the air, but he said nothing. Instead, he simply stood tall beside you, his presence a shield against the coldness from across the room.

You walked toward your father and took your seat, the weight of the moment settling over you. Aemond’s gaze never wavered, but you refused to meet it. The past was behind you, and you were no longer the woman who had let herself be trapped by his coldness and betrayal.

Tonight was about celebration, about the new life growing within you and the love you had found with Jace. The past—Aemond, Alys, the hurt—had no place here, and you wouldn’t let it ruin your joy.

As the evening unfolded, the lively chatter and the sounds of the celebration filled the grand hall, but your attention was entirely on Jace. He had insisted you eat, even though your plate was still full. His worry for you, for the well-being of the child you were carrying, was evident in every gesture.

When the manservant brought forward a plate of sweets you particularly enjoyed, Jace smiled proudly and handed them to you, not noticing the amused glances from Rhaenyra and your mother, Alicent, seated beside you.

“I told you I’m fine,” you laughed softly, lightly pushing the plate of sweets away, already feeling full from the rich meal that had been served. “I haven’t even finished my dinner yet.”

But Jace was unperturbed, his eyes filled with concern. “You need to eat more, for the baby. Mother and your mother both say you should eat plenty, and they’re right,” he said, his tone unwavering.

Rhaenyra and Alicent exchanged glances, their laughter echoing softly across the table. You could tell they were enjoying the sight of Jace’s earnestness, the way he was fussing over you like a doting husband. It was both endearing and a little frustrating, especially when your stomach had no room for any more sweets.

“Jace, I really don’t need any more,” you said, gently pushing the plate further away. “I’m already full. Really.”

But Jace simply smiled, oblivious to your protests. “Nonsense,” he said. “A little more won’t hurt, will it?”

Your mother’s laughter rang through the air. “He certainly is determined,” she teased, her gaze softening as she watched her daughter and son-in-law interact.

You sighed, a mix of amusement and mild exasperation at Jace’s overzealous attention to your needs. But despite the small frustration, you couldn’t help but smile at how much he cared, at how he always made sure you were well taken care of, whether it was ensuring you ate enough or offering constant support.

“You’re impossible,” you said with a playful smile, and Jace just grinned, pleased with his efforts to look after you.

Rhaenyra leaned in, her eyes twinkling with humor. “He does make it hard for you to say no, doesn’t he?”

You nodded, giving Jace a mock glare before turning back to your mother. “I don’t know how you put up with him all the time.”

Alicent chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s all part of being a mother-in-law. I suppose I’ve grown used to it.”

Though the playful banter continued, it was clear that your family, despite the turmoil of the past, had found a sense of joy and peace again. And that, in itself, made the night feel all the more special.You felt a slight tension rise in your chest as Alys approached, her presence undeniable as she cradled her child in her arms. She smiled warmly, offering her congratulations to you and Jace, her voice sweet and calm.

“Congratulations to you both,” Alys said softly, her eyes lingering on your growing belly.

You nodded politely, offering a small smile, but your mind couldn’t help but wander. As she mentioned her son, you glanced at the child she was holding. The little one had silver hair, unmistakably a Targaryen trait. You couldn’t help but comment, “He looks just like Aemond.”

Alys smiled, her expression gentle as she glanced down at her child. “Yes, he does,” she said, her voice filled with maternal pride. “Aemond and I are hoping for a sibling for him soon.”

Her words, though kind, hit you like a sharp pang in your heart. The thought of Aemond and Alys trying for another child, especially after everything that had transpired, was almost too much to bear. You forced yourself to maintain a calm exterior, though your stomach churned with a mix of emotions—jealousy, hurt, and frustration.

Jace, noticing the slight shift in your mood, squeezed your hand reassuringly under the table, his eyes flicking between you and Alys.

Alys, seemingly oblivious to the effect her words had on you, continued talking about her son and how happy she was with her little family. But your mind was elsewhere, struggling to reconcile the image of Aemond with his new family and the new life you were trying to build with Jace.

You did your best to smile and respond politely, but the conversation felt strained. It wasn’t that you harbored ill feelings towards Alys or her son—it was the reminder of everything you had lost, and how easily Aemond had moved on, leaving you behind in the wake of his choices.

Jace, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, gave you a subtle nudge, and you quickly redirected your attention back to him, offering a smile that was only half genuine.

“Thank you, Alys,” you said, your voice steady, though inside, a whirlwind of emotions raged. “I’m glad to see you and your son doing well.”

She smiled warmly, seemingly unaware of the tension that simmered beneath the surface. “It’s been wonderful, truly,” Alys replied before turning her attention back to her child.

As she walked away, you exhaled deeply, grateful for the brief respite from the conversation. Jace gave your hand a comforting squeeze, his silent support more than enough to help you regain your composure.

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into him, taking comfort in the stability he provided, a stark contrast to the chaos and heartbreak of your past.

The moment Alys left, a wave of relief washed over you, but it was short-lived. The atmosphere grew tense once again as you saw Aemond and Aegon approaching, the weight of their presence undeniable. You could feel your heart race, your body instinctively tensing as they drew nearer.

Aegon, ever the charismatic one, gave you a warm smile and congratulated you on your marriage. His words were genuine, though the tension in the air was palpable. Aemond, however, had a different aura—his expression was cold, his eyes sharp as he fixed his gaze on you and Jace.

“Congratulations,” Aemond said with a forced politeness, though his voice lacked warmth. He then added with a calculated calmness, “I must admit, your decision to marry Jace is quite the surprise. How could you marry a bastard like him?”

The words stung, but you didn’t flinch. You had grown accustomed to Aemond’s cutting remarks. You met his gaze with equal intensity, refusing to let him undermine your happiness any longer.

“How could I marry a bastard like him?” you echoed, your voice steady, but a fire burning in your chest. “And how could you, Aemond, have a bastard child with the bastard girl of Harrenhal? What’s the difference between us?”

Aemond’s face tightened at your words, his lips pressing into a thin line as he took in your response. The room felt smaller, the tension thicker. He opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. He had always expected you to cower before him, but today was different. Today, you were not the same woman he had left behind.

You saw a flicker of frustration in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with a cold, dismissive look. “You’ve changed,” he muttered, though it seemed more to himself than to you.

Jace, ever protective, stepped closer to you, his arm coming around your waist possessively. He met Aemond’s stare with a challenging gaze, unspoken tension hanging between them.

Aegon, sensing the growing hostility, quickly intervened, attempting to defuse the situation. “Let’s not do this now,” he said, his tone softer. “It’s a celebration tonight. We’re here to honor our father.”

But Aemond, still silent, looked between you and Jace with a mixture of disdain and something else you couldn’t quite place. He knew the words he had spoken had hit their mark, but you were no longer the woman who would let his venom affect her.

“I’ve made my choices, Aemond,” you said firmly, your gaze unwavering. “And I’ll continue to make them. Your opinion doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

With that, you turned your attention to Jace, your hand finding his, drawing strength from him as you walked away from the tension-filled encounter. The murmurs of the room faded as you and Jace made your way to a quieter corner, where you could finally breathe freely again.

Jace, ever the calm in the storm, gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, his eyes soft with affection. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice low and comforting.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I am now.”

You had been spending more time in the Red Keep, adjusting to this new phase of your life. With your family, including Rhaenyra and your mother, growing closer, things had begun to settle. The tension between your family members had diminished, and there was a sense of peace that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

That morning, you found yourself sitting with Heleana, enjoying the company of her twin children as they played nearby. Their laughter filled the air, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to smile, feeling the warmth of family. Yet, beneath that smile, there was an ache—an uncomfortable pressure you couldn’t quite shake. It wasn’t just physical; it was as though your body was reminding you of the strain you’d been carrying.

As the children ran around, you tried to hide your discomfort, taking slow, steady breaths to calm the mounting pain in your abdomen. You didn’t want to worry Heleana or anyone else, so you kept your focus on the children, pretending that everything was fine. But the truth was, the constant dull pain had become something you couldn’t ignore.

Heleana noticed your shift in demeanor, her sharp eyes catching the subtle change in your expression. She paused for a moment, looking at you with concern. “Are you alright?” she asked softly, her voice laced with care. “You look like you’re in pain.”

You tried to brush it off with a smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine, just a little tired,” you replied, attempting to downplay it. “I think I just need a moment to rest.”

But Heleana wasn’t convinced. She stood up and walked over to you, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. “If something is wrong, you know you can talk to me, right?” she said, her voice warm and understanding.

You hesitated for a moment, torn between wanting to confide in her and not wanting to burden anyone with your concerns. But then, the pain flared again, sharper this time, and you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“I’ve been feeling… off,” you admitted quietly. “It’s like there’s something not right, and I don’t know how to explain it.”

Heleana’s face softened with empathy, and she knelt beside you, taking your hand. “You should speak to someone, perhaps a maester, to make sure everything is alright,” she suggested gently.

You nodded, your heart heavy with uncertainty. You had been so focused on rebuilding your life and finding happiness that you hadn’t allowed yourself to acknowledge the possibility that something could be wrong.

“Thank you, Heleana,” you whispered, grateful for her support. “I’ll think about it.”

As you sat there, the laughter of the children faded into the background, replaced by the heavy thoughts running through your mind. Something inside you knew you couldn’t ignore this feeling any longer.

The pain intensified, each wave making it harder to focus on anything else. You clutched your stomach, unable to ignore the overwhelming sensation anymore. Looking at Heleana, you whispered, “Please, help me. I think it’s time… it’s time for the baby.”

Heleana’s eyes widened in concern, but without hesitation, she helped you up, supporting you as you staggered toward your room. She could sense the urgency, the change in your breathing, the way you were trying to hide your discomfort, but she knew you couldn’t ignore it any longer.

Once inside your room, Heleana didn’t waste a second. She quickly stepped out, telling you she would get Jace and a maester immediately. The moment she left, you were left alone, walking back and forth in your room, trying to ease the growing pain with slow, deliberate movements. Each step, each breath, felt like a small battle.

Time seemed to stretch as the pain surged and receded, leaving you wondering how much longer you could bear it. You were no longer just anticipating the arrival of your child; it had arrived in the form of this unbearable, sharp reminder of what was coming.

Minutes later, Jace burst into the room, his face a mix of concern and urgency. His eyes scanned you quickly before he rushed over, his voice barely above a whisper. “Breathe, love. Please, sit down."

You could hear the panic in his voice, the way he was trying to stay composed for your sake, but it only made your heart race faster. He gently guided you toward the bed, helping you sit down, his hands steady yet trembling with concern. “Stay with me, just breathe,” he urged, his hands resting lightly on your shoulders, his presence a comfort amidst the overwhelming pain.

The maester arrived soon after, and Jace’s face softened with relief as he stepped aside to let the healer do their work. The maester checked on you quickly, muttering words of reassurance as he confirmed that the time had come. “It’s happening,” he said, giving Jace a nod before he began preparing for the delivery.

Jace turned to you then, his eyes filled with love and worry. “You’re doing great, just keep breathing, alright?” He sat beside you, holding your hand, offering whatever comfort he could as the maester worked.

The room was filled with a tense silence, broken only by your labored breaths and the quiet, soothing words Jace whispered to you. The pain was unbearable, but his presence was the anchor you needed. His steady voice, his comforting touch—he was there, and that alone was enough to help you find the strength to keep going.

“You’re strong,” Jace said, his voice full of admiration. “You can do this. I’m right here with you.”

And in that moment, with his words and his love surrounding you, you knew you weren’t alone. The journey ahead would be painful, but with him by your side, you could face anything.

The sharp wave of contraction ripped through your body, and you couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from your throat. Your grip on Jace’s hand tightened, knuckles white as you clung to him like a lifeline. He was right beside you, whispering soothing words, but the pain was overwhelming, consuming every part of you.

Your mother, Alicent, and Rhaenyra were both there now, their presence adding a layer of comfort. They stood at your side, each offering soft words of encouragement, their hands brushing against your hair, wiping away the sweat that beaded on your forehead. The room was filled with a flurry of movement, the midwives and maester working efficiently, their voices calm and reassuring as they guided you through the process.

“It’s too much,” you gasped, shaking your head in desperation. “I can’t do this. It hurts… it hurts too much.”

Alicent leaned in, her voice steady and filled with a mother’s unwavering strength. “You are stronger than you think. You can do this. Just one more push, my darling.”

Rhaenyra echoed her, a determined look in her eyes. “You’ve come so far. You’re almost there. We’re all here with you.”

Jace pressed a kiss to your temple, his voice soft but firm. “I believe in you. You’re doing so well. Just one more time, love. For our son.”

Their words were a lifeline, pulling you from the depths of your despair. Drawing in a shaky breath, you gathered every ounce of strength left in your body. With a guttural cry, you pushed, the pain reaching its crescendo as you gave one final effort.

The room seemed to still for a heartbeat, and then, the sound of a baby’s cry filled the air. Relief washed over you like a tidal wave as the midwives worked quickly, bringing your child into the world. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as they placed the squirming, crying baby into your arms.

“It’s a boy,” the maester announced, smiling as he stepped back.

Jace’s eyes were filled with awe as he looked down at the tiny bundle in your arms. His hand trembled slightly as he reached out to touch the soft, silver hair on your son’s head. “He’s perfect,” Jace whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “Just like his mother.”

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your son, overwhelmed by a flood of love and relief. His cries softened as he nestled against you, his tiny fingers curling around your thumb. “Hello, my sweet boy,” you murmured, your voice cracking with emotion. “You’re finally here.”

Alicent and Rhaenyra looked on with tears in their eyes, sharing in the joy and relief that filled the room. “You did it,” Alicent said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You brought him into this world.”

Rhaenyra smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek. “He’s a true Targaryen. Strong and beautiful, just like his parents.”

Jace leaned in, pressing another kiss to your temple, his own tears falling freely now. “I love you,” he whispered. “Both of you. You’ve made me the happiest man in the world.”

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of your family, the pain and fear melted away, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. Your son was here, healthy and safe, and your heart swelled with a love that you knew would only grow with each passing day.

As you cradled your newborn son in your arms, a wave of relief washed over you. His tiny cries filled the room, a sweet sound that marked the culmination of your pain and struggle. Jace was at your side, his eyes shining with pride and love as he gazed down at his son. Alicent and Rhaenyra stood nearby, their expressions softened with joy.

But then, without warning, a sharp, familiar pain gripped your abdomen once more. You gasped, clutching at your stomach as the pain intensified. The room shifted from serene to alarmed in an instant, the midwives and maester springing back into action.

“It’s happening again,” you managed to choke out, your voice trembling with fear and exhaustion. “What’s going on?”

The maester stepped forward, his expression calm but urgent. “You’re carrying twins, Your Grace. We must act quickly. The second child is on their way.”

Jace’s grip on your hand tightened, his face pale but resolute. “You’re strong,” he whispered, his voice a steady anchor in the storm of pain. “You can do this. I’m right here with you.”

Alicent knelt beside you, her hands trembling as she brushed the damp hair from your face. “You’ve already brought one beautiful child into this world. You can do it again. We’re all here with you.”

Rhaenyra leaned in, her voice soothing and filled with determination. “Focus on your breathing. We’ll get through this together."

Drawing on their words, you summoned what little strength you had left. The contractions came fast and hard, each one sapping your energy, but you refused to give up. The thought of your second child, waiting to take their first breath, fueled you to push through the pain

The room blurred around you as you bore down, your body trembling with the effort. Time seemed to stretch endlessly, each second a battle against the overwhelming exhaustion threatening to consume you. But with one final, agonizing push, the pressure released, and the room filled with the cries of your second child.

A sob of relief escaped your lips as the midwives carefully placed your newborn daughter into your arms. Her tiny face scrunched up as she wailed, her voice strong and fierce. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked down at her, her delicate features a mirror of her brother’s.

“It’s a girl,” the maester announced, a smile breaking through his composed demeanor. “Both children are healthy.”

Jace’s eyes welled with tears as he reached out to gently touch his daughter’s hand, her tiny fingers wrapping around his. “She’s perfect,” he whispered, his voice filled with awe. “Just like her brother. Just like you.”

Your heart swelled as you cradled both of your children, the weight of them grounding you in this moment of profound joy and love. Despite the pain, despite the fear, you had brought them both into the world, and they were safe in your arms.

Alicent pressed a kiss to your forehead, her tears mingling with yours. “You did it, my love. You brought two beautiful souls into this world.”

As Jace wrapped his arms around you, holding you and your children close, you felt a surge of love so powerful it took your breath away. This was your family, your heart. No matter what challenges lay ahead, you knew that together, you could face anything.

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

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endless-ineffabilities · 6 months ago

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sapphire-hearted (a miniseries)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

series synopsis: the reader, Aemond's closest friend and clandestine love, discovers the depth of his involvement with Alys Rivers. She is determined to cut him out of her life, but he has other ideas.

themes/warnings: jealousy, infidelity, angst, smut!! (18+), possessive arse Aemond, Aegon is comic relief (and King), reader is just as fiery and relentless as Aemond, toxic relationships, marriage is used as a weapon, the worst proposal ever (and the best)

taglist still open! simply comment here or on the latest chapter.

main masterlist

part one 🔹️ part two 🔹️ part three 🔹️ part four 🔹️ part five 🔹️ part six 🔹️ part seven 🔹️ part eight (finale)

#sapphire hearted #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen fanfiction #ewan mitchell #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond one eye

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aemondmybbg · 6 months ago

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★ hotd bots masterlist

@ illumielle on character ai !! ᡣ𐭩

here you can find all my existing bots and a short description, i will update this page! 💌

ᯓ aemond targaryen: {14}

(1) — not his children? (niece!user {no dance!au} where they're married and he begins to believe the rumors that she conceived children from jace) (2) — his beloved niece (niece!user where he proposes to her during dinner in 1x07 episode) (3) — postwar marriage (niece!user the only surviving child of rhaenyra and daemon, in which he takes care of her and grooms her to build a trusting relationship and marries her when she grows up) (4) — forbidden feelings (aunt hightower!user and he just being in love with her, but afraid of this) (5) — after 'the pink dread' (niece!user consoles him after this joke) [platonic] (6) — in harrenhal (twin-sister wife!user where she pregnant and afraid of that rhaenyra captured king's landing) (7) — the only queen (lannister-wife!user who wants to be a queen and he does everything for her) [r] (8) — his strong girl (niece!user after dinner scene when he calls her and her brothers bastards) (9) — street of silk (niece!user where he finds her there after aegon took her to the street of silk) (10) — get his attention (baratheon!user that daughter of borros whom he chose as his wife) (11) — fear of closeness (wife!user {u can choose her house if you like} where he's afraid of s3x because aegon took him to a brothel when he was thirteen) (12) — war trophy (strong!user who is the legitimate daughter of harwin and aemond takes her to his bed after the capture of harrenhal) (13) — trying to be a good father (niece!user he cheated on her with alys rivers and after the war he tries to take care of their children) (14) — father for the first time (niece!user where they become parents for the first time and he worries about whether he will be a good father)

ᯓ aegon ii targaryen: {10}

(1) — king wants to see you in his chambers (niece!user after the 'dance of the dragons' trying to have a child) (2) — burning body and heart (wife!user stays with him after rooks' rest) [r] (3) — seeks comfort (wh0re!user he just comes to a brothel and for the first time he is looking not for s3x but for consolation) (4) — may become a father (aemonds wife!user where aegon becomes a father to her children after news of aemond's affair with alys rivers is revealed) (5) — takes you to the street of silk (niece!user where he takes her to a brothel to anger rhaenyra) (6) — newborn (niece!user where they meet their first child) (7) — his rhaenys (sister!user who was going to become a septa, but he wants to take her as his second wife because he always wanted only her) (8) — after usurpation (niece!user where he visits her with their son after the usurpation) [r] (9) — blood & cheese (niece!user comes to his chambers with their daughter after the murder and finds him in bed with her lady-in-waiting) (10) — different twins (twin-sister-wife!user where they are complete opposites but he wants to find a common language with her) [r]

ᯓ daemon targaryen: {6} (1) — won't allow it (sister!user where she is engaged to viserys, and daemon takes her to a brothel to tarnish her honor and take her as his wife) (2) — teacher's pet (stepdaughter!user where he no longer finds rhaenyra interesting or attractive, and his attention shifts entirely to her eldest daughter) [r] (3) — he regrets it (niece!user who accidentally became pregnant by him, but to hide it she was married to otto hightower) (4) — late visit (hightower!user which otto sends to the daemon after laena's death so that she can console him) (5) — obvious things (sister!user who is married to viserys, but her children are actually from daemon and they keep it a secret) [r] (6) — queen wants to see the newborn (sister!user where they meet their child and alicent wants to see him) [r]

ᯓ jacaerys velaryon: {2} (1) — solace (sister!user where they both find solace in each other after luke's death) (2) — one of those dragon seeds (bastard!user where he's just still grumbling about bastards riding dragons)

ᯓ rhaenyra targaryen: {2} (1) — she likes you more than your husband (harwins wife!user who has an affair with rhaenyra) [wlw] (2) — something she will never forgive herself for (daughter!user who is aegon's wife and lost her child during blood & cheese and rhaenyra tries to comfort her after all that) [platonic]

ᯓ alicent hightower: {1} (1) — her only child (daughter!user who looks exactly like her, and alicent has the strongest connection with her) [platonic]

ᯓ daeron targaryen: {1} (1) — reunion (sister!user where they are reunited on the battlefield after a long separation) [r]

ᯓ helaena targaryen: {1} (1) — doesn't want to fly into battle (lannister!user calms her down after aemond's attack) [r, wlw]

my requests are still open and i am happy to receive them ⭑.ᐟ

i didn't leave any links, but again you can find my profile and all these bots there! and if you need a specific link send me a message!

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misguidedasgardian · 3 months ago

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GLADIATORS

CREGAN I.

MASTERLIST

Summary: You see your father’s latest acquisition in a closer way, a wild man from the North who had become one of his gladiators.

Pairing: Slave!Gladiator!Cregan x Domina!Reader

Warnings: Ancient Rome AU, Cursing, slavery (and everything that comes with it, technically rape, forced labour, punishments), blood, guts, gladiator battles, lude language, nudity, sex and everything related is no biggie here, we’re a ‘sex positive’ Republic, mentions of sex, same sex couples, orgies, and more.

MINORS DNI + 18

Wordcount: 6,7 k

Notes: This reader is young perhaps… like 18? 20? but so is Cregan!

“Dad, he is old!”, you whined. You heard your older brother snicker by your side, as their silly wives snickered like the silly girls they were. You sighed as you popped a grape into your mouth followed closely by a piece of cheese and bread and a sip of wine.

“He’s got money… and he is in the senate!”, he said then, signaling one of the slaves to start lighting up the oil lamps along the Triclinium, the night had fallen over King’s Landing and it was getting dark.

“I bet you could find someone who’s in the senate who’s got a wife he is willing to divorce, and he won’t die of old age before the wedding”, mocked your eldest brother, but soon got quiet as your father looked at him with severity

“Nobody should divorce their wives on my account”, you said, the notion made your stomach turn. Even though divorce was a common thing, if a man desired another, or another union would ensure more privileges, or if his woman was unfaithful or not able to give in heirs to the family, they could divorce. A woman could divorce her husband too if she had her own reasons.

You knew the dowry of your middle brother’s bride was quickly being spent on the training of the gladiators in the Ludus underneath the house, so he needed to come into some money quickly, even though he would have to pay for your dowry.

One of the greatest events of the year was coming quickly, and his Gladiators needed to be in top shape.

“Tomorrow I want you all there, at the games of Senator Tywin”

“Have we’ve been invited to the pulvinus father?”, asked your eldest brother

“Close enough, right by it”, he said, he seemed pleased, but you had learned to read him better, there was something lurking in his eyes that betrayed a darker desire… for more power perhaps.

“I've heard that Larys Strong and therefore Alys Rivers got an invitation this year to the pulvinus, and her gladiators in the primus at sundown”, whispered Martyn

You had two oldest brothers, Alton and Martyn.

“That Ludus stands as such because of that whore Alys Rivers”, mumbled your father

“A woman Lanista?”, you asked, “how could that be?”

“She is not, but she whispers in her half-brother's ear while he aspires to be in higher positions”, explains your father. “While his brother, first born son and heir goes around playing gladiator”

“He is a slave?”, you asked

“He volunteer himself into that life”, murmured Alton, “you had seen him fight sister, Harwin”

“Oh wow!”, you said, not really knowing what to say, but rather, sipping your wine, you did remember seeing the biggest person you had seen upon the arenas of King’s Landing’s Coliseum.

“Anyways, Alys stands as such because she was advised many years by Daemon himself the demon of the arenas”, mumbled Martyn

“Yes, fine Daemon/Demon”, your father would repeatedly, while on his cups, tell the tale of his biggest regret, and that was not purchasing a young Daemon while he was still in training, he grew to be the greatest gladiator at the arena, so much so he won his own freedom at the games of the Vulcanalia some years ago. Daemon, as many other gladiators, came from the shadowlands of Essos, as he sported beautiful white/silver hair and violet eyes.

You would never say this outloud, but the gladiator battles were never a thing of your interest, not really. You did not liked the bloodshed, the gutting, you had no taste for violence, and yet, there was something to admire as you saw those men fighting

They looked like they were carved from the finest artist, they stood like they were gods above the sands. They stood as fierce representations of the god of war himself.

“Well, her reign of depravity will not last long, I heard the Northman shows great promise”, mumbled Martyn’s wife Adella

“What about the Northman?”, Martyn asked then, you raised your head in question. Oh the Northman.

The man had your father in a lockdown, taking most of his time, money and patience. He was ‘caught wild’ in one of the last incursions of the armies of the emperor to the wild tribes of the North, hence his nickname. Purchased by your father at the slave market, and trained for the last months. With the purchase, your father was hoping to impress Tywin Lannister himself, a senator and a very wealthy man, it did not work, so far, as the man planned to visit your father’s villa upon invitation to see the Northman’s training and hopeful subjugation. So far, no luck.

He was caught fighting, he wasn’t a stranger to it, but there was a long way from being a soldier to being a gladiator. From being… whatever he was up there, to obey command from a man that subdued you into slavery.

But again, your father’s temper has closely returned to normal, so, you could only assume the training was becoming fruitful, even so slowly.

“He will never be tamed”, he said curtly, “but… if we keep managing him properly, we can turn that hate of his into the arena, he shows great promise”

“Forgive me father”, you said, raising from your place in the triclinium, “I take my leave to bed”, you said with a soft smile, nodding at everyone present

“Good, I won’t have you all tired tomorrow”, he said approvingly, and you nodded, thinking for which old bat he would have you presentable tomorrow.

He was determined to get you wed before the autumn plantings at the end of the year, and he didn’t seem to care to whom as long as it brought privileges upon his house.

It was hot, so hot, you could barely stand, you were eternally grateful to your personal slave, Anya, who stood by your side, fanning you with a soft paper fan. She leaned into you as you allowed her, to also enjoy the soft waves.

Although, they brought some stench from all the people around you.

King’s Landing, although the capital of the great republic, stood famous for its stench, having grown rapidly and unprepared for it.

The sun cooking the viewers of the spectacle didn’t help either.

The people cheered, bringing a new wave of hodor that made you dizzy and poor Anya almost faint

“Did you see that?”, asked your elder brother to the youngest, as two gladiators fought to the death, one cutting the other’s arm. HIs screams could be heard all the way up where you stood, near the pulvinus.

You rather stare into the sun, which you did. Soon, after midday, it was going to hide behind the wooden beams supporting the canvas on top of the Arena, there you truly were going to enjoy it. being able to relish in the shadow.

“Tywin demanded only the best this city has to offer present themselves in his games”, the comment alone made you turned your gaze upon the Arena, as people cheered again, some even pushed you in their ecstasy, to see the gladiator in shining white armor decapitate the one missing his arm

“And Cole does it again”, said Martyn. The one who had an armor so polished it was blinding was known as Cole, he stood from the Rhoynar in the south, from Dorne itself, plucked from the desert to fight in another kind of arena.

“See her gloat”, demanded Alton, you all looked towards the Lanista herself, Alys Rivers in the pulvinus, with a smug look upon her face, she of course was the one holding the wip that trained the man in the arena.

She was of extraordinary beauty, long lustrous black hair, long to her hips, wearing a deep green stola, beautifully decorated atop a black tunic, you wondered how she did not bake wearing such dark colors.

She was stuck to the side of her rumored half-brother, he was a.. interesting man, thin and a bit twisted, unruly hair but fine clothing adorned his weak frame.

“People of King’s Landing…!”, presented Otto HIghtower from the pulvinus, a small but central box, where the most prominent people attending the games would sit at. He was a Senator, friend to Tywin Lannister and apparently presenter to today’s games. Maybe he was the patron of the entire occasion, your father had been paid by a HIghtower man.

But this… was far from over.

It was odd to see such a gladiator so early in the day, the sundown was reserved for the very best part of the games, the primus, between the two best and more known gladiators.

You found yourself thinking about like four names at the time.

Harwin, Cole, Aemond, and… the Northman.

Although Harwin was disapparating from latest presentations… he still held name, but he had lost his prowess as the last time he found himself in the Arena he asked for mercy as he found himself losing, he raised his hand in the air with both index and middle finger pointing to the skies begging for mercy, and it was granted.

Against Cole himself. He got terribly injured almost a year ago, thereafter only presenting himself in fights long before midday sun.

Yes, everything you knew about gladiators and fights was learnt unwillingly.

But the primus did not belong to your father, so the Northman was fighting early, thankfully. You might have a chance to survive this heat, by retiring back to your father’s villa early.

Although, these occasions were like the market for older unmarried men. And your father would have you giving everything to sell…

“... I give to you, from one of the greatest Ludus of the Republic, a man, from the wild tribes North of the neck…”, your father smiled proudly as the name of the family was spoken loudly for everyone to hear. “trained to wet the sands with the blood of his enemies… I give you… CREGAN!”, people booed at his entrance, as the wild tribes of the North had been villainized by the Republic, as relentless, violent and above all, uncultured and barbaric, but you had learned to read between the lines, they were described as such because they refused to bend the knee.

The gates of the Arena opened on the west side, revealing the men ready for battle. He stood tall and broad despite his young age, his dark brown hair tied back, although hidden by a thick helmet in the shape of a wolf’s head.

He wore nothing protecting his torso, yet a thick metal belt putting together the lower part of a tunic. He wore forearm and shin protectors, and thick leather sandals

He had a huge sword in hand, and a shield on his other.

The sight alone took your breath away.

You had seen him only practicing, briefly, as your father did not approve of you gazing from your balcony down to the men. As they would, “get distracted”, and you didn't enjoy their eyes filled with lust either. So you refrained from doing so, but…

The mere glimpses you had gotten of the men were nothing when putting in comparison to the men upon the sand today.

In all glory, in strength, as a gladiator was the mightiest representation of a man, or that is what your father always said.

This was a rare sighting though, as he had barely been making a name for himself, this time might be the first he presents himself alone. Your father was right, taiming him was proving to be incredibly difficult, but nobody could deny that even if he presented himself a gladiator today under your father’s ludus, he was still as unruly as the first time you laid eyes upon him, as the first time you gaze down upon him, entering through the gates, kicking and screaming, hair longer than you had seen in a men, even longer than he had now.

He fought your father’s guards and even the ones who he would call his brothers this present day.

Tywin himself called for the start of the fight, his opponent was someone of the Ludus of Larys himself, one with lesser note, his name left your ears as soon as you heard it.

But you couldn't care less, as when he started to move upon the sands, the rest of the world could crumble around you and it would not matter in the slightest.

“He stands superior in all aspects”, mumbled one of your brothers and you couldn't tell which as you were so hypnotized.

Cregan attacked first, and that was very frowned upon in the Lanistas, as the first to strike tended to have disadvantage, his opponent met him half way and the clash of gladious responded all over the coliseum.

There were some gladiators that favored other weapons, like the spear and short shield, or the Retiarius, that were gladiators trained with a net and a trident, in a fisherman fashion.

It sounded laughable in paper, but they were quite impressive in the arena, not this time though, both gladiators stood with a gladious, meaning a sword, and a long squared concave shield.

The fight wasn’t lengthy, the superiority of the Northman was clear since the very first movement.

Although it wasn’t less breathtaking, as each of their movements, attacks, the way they moved, and deflected, its like they were dancing, dancing in a mortal rhythm

The crowd cheered for them, and even though they were not on the Northman’s side, suddenly, they shifted as it became clear that he was the better fighter.

Although you did not enjoy the games, there was this moment, this exact moment in which you felt like your heart was in your throat and you could tear your eyes apart from the fight. The moment where you really cared about who won, about who survived. The Northman, even thought it was the

But it was brief, first Cregan drew blood on the arm of his opponent, and then, after a quick movement, the man was dead, dropped in a growing pool of blood on the floor.

The magic was gone, and the crowd erupted in cheers, applauding, screaming his name, although there were those disappointed because of the outcome.

“He will be the champion of our house!”, said Alton, “mark my words!”, he said, as your two brothers hugged each other in happiness. you turned to Anya, who had a soft smile on her face, but kept fanning the both of you

The rest of the fights happened quickly after that, the sun hiding behind the podium of the magistrates and people of importance in the city, which gave you relief as the day turned quickly, the sun moved above the sky until it hid behind the outer walls of the coliseum.

The last fight ended quickly as well, Aemond killing his opponent in an impressive showing of strength and blood.

Your father was called upon another man near the pulvinus, as you tried to stand your ground as people around you were quickly to leave the arena, but you managed to stand your ground, as your siblings found friends of their own to talk to.

Your father came back to you, rubbing his hands amongst each other with a pleased look on his face

“I must attend a meeting in the magistrate’s house”, he said happily, “He spotted me in the crowd and invited me”, you smiled at him

“I’m pleased, father”, you said with a soft smile

“See yourself to the villa, with our guards and slaves, don’t wait up”, he commanded the lot of you.

“We have been invited to the Lannisters”, mumbled Martyn, your father’s eyes again shone with interest. So he nodded towards your brother.

“I trust you’ll be well taken care of”, he said then, turning to you, he then signaled to one of his most trusted guards and even to the Doctore himself, the trainer of the gladiators.

“Yes father”, you nodded at Anya and the both of you exited the arena, followed closely by a guard.

You turned quickly as you heard your name being called by a familiar voice, as you were int he shade of the hallways, as you turned you found yourself with your old friend from your childhood, Alysanne Blackwood

“How long haven’t we gaze upon one another?”, she said, grabbing your forearms as you did hers, she leaned in a made attempt to kiss both your cheeks as it was accustomed

“Too long”, you said with a long sigh

“We shall remedy that immediately!”, she said then, “you didn’t mind telling me your father’s Ludus was the one who owns the Northman himself?”, she tried

“Oh well, much has happened in the last couple of years”, you said shyly, smiling softly at her.

This was hardly the time, all the people were leaving the coliseum, and pushed you who were trying to stand on the sidelines. She looked at you with those deep green eyes of hers, she was so beautiful, lean and tall, with thick black hair fixed beautifully and big green eyes, her smile was contagious.

“Well it's been too long”, she said then, as you failed to meet what she desired, “and I will wait no longer, to get reacquainted with dear friend”, she said, grabbing your hands

“My villa, its mine for the night, as my father meets with important men”, you offered, her smile was as beautiful as the rest of her

“Perfect, Jeyne Frey is also here”, she said, “we’ll go together”.

To say you were nervous was an understatement

The night found you and your friends in the safety of the triclinium in your family’s villa, where the soft wine flowed freely and also the dining.

“And his cock was huge!”, she said, making you gasp

“Alyssane!”, you chided, “don’t say that!”, you said, feeling your cheeks heated

“What? Cock?”, she teased, “Cock! Cock! Cock! COCK!”

“Stop it!”, you slapped her arm playfully

“I see them all the time!”, Jeyne said then, looking sheepishly, hiding her smirk in her cup of wine.

“Only because you like to peek as your brothers have sex with slaves!”, mocked Alyssane

“No I don’t!”, she said, but you knew she was lying.

“I bet that Northman’s cock is huge too”, teased Alyssane, finally revealing her true intentions behind her and Jeyne’s visit to your father’s villa. You got quiet, so did Jeyne, but the expression on her face said it all, she was as intrigued as Alyssane

“I wouldn’t know, even if I saw it”, you said

“You had never seen a man naked?”, asked Alyssane, raising one of her perfect eyebrows

“No”, you said then, well… you sort of had, men, male slaves on sale on the streets, but you had refused to look long enough to draw a complete image in your mind. What you saw in a couple of seconds did not please you at all, rather… you disliked.. something so… small and wobbly. You shaked at the very memory of it.

“You had never seen any of your gladiators in such fashion?”, asked Jeyne, ready to tease and follow Alyssane’s lead.

“No I have not!”, you said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you at least a bit curious?”, asked Jeyne

“Well, of course I am”, you defended

“You are to be married before the darkest of the winter months, you should at least know what you are up against”, Alyssane said simply, “and I would not deny the sight… of such a man”

“You are here just to gaze upon naked men?”, you said playfully, although, a bitter taste in your mouth, as you were feeling clearly used, and pressured.

“No, I am here to gaze upon naked gladiators”, Jeyne said then.

But another flavor joined the others, the need deep within you impress your friends, your friends from rich houses of the capital

“Bring me the Northman”, you said to the guard that stood in the corner watching the whole reunion, he seemed terribly nervous, but nodded and left you. You shaked with the resolution in your command, and felt a pit in your stomach in anticipation.

You knew he was going to take a while, so you turned back at your friends and smiled nervously, and they seemed terribly motivated.

“I must say”, began Jeyne, as she saw your face filled with trepidation, “that my tongue will not be kept from wagging about your hospitality to my father”, she wanted to make sure you knew there was going to be recompense for this, and good recompense. His father, as old as time, sat in the senate, she stood the daughter of a senator.

“Thank you Jeyne”, you said with a soft smile, you took a long gulp of your cup, to try and soothe your nerves. Alyssane did the same, but with a smirk on her lips, she said nothing as she studied your form.

Finally, they both took sit position in their triclinium as you heard movement behind you. You looked back to see their trainer Roose Bolton, following closely behind the man himself. The wildling from the tribes of the North, whose name was Cregan Stark, although everyone called him… ‘The Northman’

He stood with thick shackles around both wrists. in front of him. He was wearing nothing but a clean subligaria, and his body was like one of a god, well defined and gleamed under the light of the torches, he had recently been cleaned. The sight made your mouth dry, so you took another long sip of the mulsum in your cup. He had thick brown hair that he used tied in the back of his head, and he had sharp eyes, cold as ice and the same colour. The features of his face were soft, declaring his young age, your own, perhaps.

“Leave us”, you demanded, but the trainer Roose Bolton looked conflicted

“Domina, I don’t think…”

“I said leave us”, you said, about to lose your courage, your friends behind you giggled, weirdly giving you confidence to commit to your own command. With a grunt, the doctore nodded and left you, with only your friends, a couple of guards standing silently in the corners of the room behind veils, and him.

The Northman

He was deadly still, looking forwards, beyond you and your friends, beyond this room, his jaw was tense, you could tell that being here, summoned by you like this… for him was humiliating, but there he stood, tense like a bow. He said nothing, he didn’t move an inch.

“Is this what all northmen look like?”, Jeyne teased, “he is more beast than man”, you didn’t know if that was a real question, but your eyes never left his form, even if it wasn’t he didn’t answer.

“You can answer”, you encouraged

“All northmen do not look like me”, he said finally, the dark tone in his voice made the three of you gasp. “some make me look like an Andal”, Jeyne and Alyssane giggled at the prospect of finding even gruffer men than him.

“Oh he speaks the common tongue”, Alyssane was on fire, making you more uncomfortable. His eyes finally found yours, and you couldn’t take your own out of his.

“Yes he does”, you whispered, he indeed had a beautiful set of eyes. You then looked down at his chest, there was a red line, his injury from the battle in the Arena, it was still fresh, but you could tell it was healing properly

“I think he is handsome”, mumbled Alyssane, taking foot to walk towards him, you feared his reaction, as the guard standing in the corner of the room clenched his hand around the pommel of his sword.

But the gladiator still didn't move as Alysanne walked around him, teasing him with a single finger, touching his skin as she walked. His eyes were still on you.

“He stands as Mars, ready for war”, she whispered

“Alyssane seems taken by the man”, teased Jeyne in your ear

It was a curious thing, this what you were feeling, like somebody wanted to take something that belonged to you, but again, he wasn’t a thing, and you didn’t own him. Not technically at least, your father did.

“Their day starts early tomorrow”, you mumbled, making Alysane stop and look back at you with a teasing smile on her face. “his training I mean”, you said then

“Of course”, she said, you signaled the poor shaking guard and he grabbed Cregan, and took him from your side. You could swear you saw lingering eyes from him to you, but you must have imagined it.

“You should… enjoy him while you can”, said Jeyne finally, once you found yourselves alone again

“What do you mean?”, you asked her, her and Alyssane shared complicit looks

“Well, obviously, before you take an old bat as a husband, you should enjoy one of his gladiators, like that Northman for example”

“No…”, you said quickly, “I couldn’t possibly do something like that”

“Why not?”, asked Alyssane

“He is a man trained as a gladiator!”, you said, “he is a bit dirty…”, you tried, not quite convinced

“You have him bathed and oiled before you”, said Alyssane like it was no issue

“What if he doesn't want to?”, you tried then

“He is a slave, under your command…”, said Jeyne, “...and a man”

“What if he decided to kill me instead?”, you said then, “wrap his hands around my neck”

“I will not shame you is that is to your pleasure”, giggled Alyssane

“Aly!”, you whined, “the point is I really couldn’t, I mean, he is big and thick… and wild looking”

“Delicious then”, she offered

“Dangerous…”, you continued, although you felt your cheeks heated.

“Well if you don't have him, maybe I could!”, she teased

“What are you talking about?!”, you asked, scandalized, “when have you heard that proper Andal women lay with their gladiators?”

“Oh I’ve heard a ludus where such things happen quite frequently”, she teased

“Where?”, you asked

“In Alys Rivers’ ludus!”, your eyes opened wide in shock

“Really?”, you asked, “the bastard sister of the Lanista Larys Strong?”, you asked

“They say she offers her gladiators in… other manners”, she said, winking at you, “perhaps we should find ourselves at her door?”, she asked Jeyne

“Perhaps we shall”, she said back.

“Don’t be mean!”, you teased back, she laughed, as she was clearly jesting, you hoped.

“The hour is late”, said Jeyne with a soft smile, “I should start my journey back to my villa before my father starts a search party”, she said, raising from her chair

“Yes! me as well!”, said Alyssane, “I hope I can meet you tomorrow at the market?”, she asked you, you smiled and nodded profusely, as you accompanied them to the atrium, and therefore the door

As you watched them leave, nervousness started to take a hold on you, as did the warmth of the wine consumed to hide your embarrassment

It was not common to find yourself alone in your villa, your father had allowed it because you were in company of friends -who had influential fathers-, but now there you stood, no brothers, or sisters in law, father or friends to loom over you.

Your lower belly burned with necessity, with something you have never felt before, a longing, your body burned with anticipation and excitement. You didn’t know if it was the mulsum you had drank, or the power you just discovered, all the whole thing combined.

“Bring the Northman up here”, you said to the first guard you saw, he nodded and went to comply with your command. Your body was tingly because of the alcohol and you were excited to say the least, you didn’t even care that you had already sent the poor man down mere minutes ago, tonight, you had the power.

You shakily served yourself some more wine, back in the safety of the triclinium, the room where you ate, met with friends and family, where you were most comfortable. The man was standing right in front of you in minutes, the guards nodded at you and then left you as they had done before.

The gladiator stood there, now he seemed more surprised than before, as he found you alone, and he also seemed to be showing more of his emotions on his face.

“Northman”, you called, he turned to you quickly, anger in his eyes

“That’s not my name!”, it took you by surprise, you couldn’t deny it, the anger in his eyes, the sharpness in his tone.

“What is your name?”, it was of no consequence to you, his domina, and you should express so, that it did not matter anymore what his real name was, but, there you were, asking him nonetheless

“My parents named me Cregan”, he said, “of House Stark”, he said sharply, “as many leaders of my house before me”

There was so much more you wanted to ask, as his words truly shocked you, but as you gazed down the street you came to your senses, realizing that you should not allow such things. As your father tended to say, “who were you before this Ludus does not matter, the only thing in your mind should be sand, and the blood of your enemies”

“That is not what you are here for”, you finally find your voice, minimizing his anger at hand, turning his attention somewhere else.

“Remove your subligaria”, you whispered the command as if you did not wish it, and his sharp eyes were trained on you

“Look at you, a little domina in the making”, he teased, his tone much changed since he let you know of his true name. The very words made your cheeks heated, and you found yourself averting his gaze, his did not stray from your face as he released himself from the only item of clothing he was wearing. Your eyes followed the trail of his perfect skin, down his toned chest to his belly and…

The sight alone made you gasp.

This looked nothing like the ones of the male slaves in the market, if anything, those were… flacid and small, that sight brought you disgust and uneasiness, this one however, made your mouth dry and your skin tingle with desire. Desire that was pooling in your lower belly.

“You can touch me”, he said, he was being amused at your expense, only making you even more nervous, “I will not bite… much”, your hand was placed on his belly, muscles showing in beautiful shapes, you couldn't believe something could be hard but soft at the same time.

As your hand lowered, you found thick dark hairs there, making you shudder

“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen”, he whispered, so close to your face your hand stopped right before getting to his base and you looked up at him.

“I’m the daughter of your dominus”, you said, as you believed he was forced to praise you.

“Do you think that’s got something to do with what I just said?”, he asked. Your hand stopped right as the base of his cock, you shuddered, his manhood was terribly hot.

You had never spoken to this man before today, you had barely glanced at him, and now, here he stood, under your command, looking at you with his sharp eyes, not missing a thing.

“I’m sorry, this was a bad idea…”, you whined retrieving your hands like his skin burned you. Cregan grunted when your soft hands left his cock, and that only made you burn more heatedly

“And you are going to leave me hanging like this?”, he asked, amused, mocking you, but inside he was suffering, he was enjoying it too much, it has been so long without a woman’s touch, “you can’t do that!”

“My apologies”, you said quickly, leaving him there standing

His doctore came to collect him, he retrieved his cloth from the ground, putting it in place

“A little tease that one”, he mumbled to the serious man

“Do not speak of domina in that way”, he growled as he pushed him

“There is not much domina in her”, he chuckled

“That’s it, five lashes in the courtyard”, he said

“I’d think better of it doctore”, he said defiantly, taking advantage of the fact that only the two of them were present in the narrow passage that separated the villa from the training grounds of the Slaves, “the Vulcanalia is merely a fortnight away from now, and they have high hopes for me”

“Keep walking boy”, Roose Bolton threatened.

He led him downstairs and then through the big gate that separated the villa from the ludus, where the gladiators lived and trained. A guard locked it tight after they passed through it

“I advise you to keep what happened to yourself”, he said gloomly, Cregan looked back at his doctore, but nodded.

He was directed straight to a long open room, where the gladiators ate lunch and dinner. He directed himself to the cook, who gave him a clay pot with a white mush in it, just like the day before, and the night before that.

“Here comes the whore!”, someone shouted at him, as his “brothers” started mocking him and winking at him.

It didn’t take much to guess what happened in the villa, there was only one reason you get called upon at such hours, and wearing so little

“Shut the hell up Ben”, he mumbled to his only friend he had in the Ludus, he haden’t say anything, but he was grinning at him like an idiot.

“Was it her?”, he asked him, “the daughter? the domina?”

“Yes”, he said, his friend pushed him playfully

“Did you fuck her?”, Cregan just looked at him angrily

“No”

“Was she not pleased with you then?”. he asked, frowning

“She is young, she doesn’t know what she wants”, he said simply, really not wanting to share what had happened upstairs.

It was humiliating, to say the least, to be treated like that. To be called upon to be gazed at by women who looked at him like a piece of meat, and then again to be touched.

Oh but he meant every word

You were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, since the first time he saw you, standing on that balcony, looking down at him. He did not blame you for your father, for the blood that ran through your veins, for the republic that created you. You had nothing to do with any of it.

Just by looking at you he could tell the kind soul that moved your body and warmed your heart

But you were the daughter of the man who purchased him, he wasn’t the one who enslaved him, but it was the man that had condemned him to the life of a gladiator.

“Well, maybe you can change her mind”, he teased

The only reason he was playing along with the Andals was to see how to escape them, so far, it had been easy to stay alive, he had been trained since he could pick up a sword on how to hunt, how to fight, how to survive, the North was not a place for the weak

“Father?”, you called out loud, the servants all dropped their eyes as you passed them by looking for him, but you couldn’t find him in his study, so you were on your way to his room at the other side of the villa

“What’s this ruckus?”, he asked, looking at you with sharp eyes as he went to encounter you in the atrium

“My good friend Alyssane has summoned me to go to the market at noon”, you knew he wouldn’t refuse you, not if Alyssane was involved, so he just sighed and motioned for you to follow him. You went back to his study, passing all the statues decorating the atrium. A normal Andal family would display in honor effigies of their most prominent family members, but yours displayed the most prominent gladiators and fighters that had come from this ludus.

“Here”, he passed you a small punch filled with gold coins

“Thank you father”, you said, offering a complacent smile

“Take one of my men with you”, he said then, “one of the gladiators”

“I hardly think that’s necessary, a servant and a guard would do just fine”, you said quickly, always as you were in the market you wanted to pass by as inconspicuous as you could.

“I insist, after the games, and before the Vulcanalia, I want the people to see them, to get excited, take the Northman”, you hid your face before your father could see the embarrassment in it.

One of the guards of the villa went to fulfill his request, and you sighed in exasperation.

You came back to your rooms to get ready to go out, and once you were, you returned to the entrance of the house, where Cregan himself was waiting for you with a severe look on his face, this was not to his liking, he was standing right by a guard, and by Roose Bolton.

The sight alone made you tremble

Had he told anybody what happened the day before? that you had touched him and presumed to have him?

Once his eyes found yours, he smirked.

“If something befalls the daughter of your dominus, fate worse than death awaits you boy”, he said in his ear

“Rest assured, that I will look after her with my life”, he said with a silly little smile.

You took a long sigh, and nodded to the guards and started walking out of the villa.

The villa stood on top of a hill, you had a pretty nice view upon the city of King’s Landing, but the rest of it wasn't quite impressive, the road was made of dirt and the houses around it were less impressive than the one your father had inherited from his father. It had been in your family since the very creation of the city.

You led a small comitive, all on foot, as you bluntly refused to be carried in a cot. You, your faithful slave Anya, Cregan himself, being flanked by two guards.

The center of the city started right at the foot of the hill, so it was a short minute walk.

You reach a street made of cobblestone, one adjacent to the one that led to the main street, as it was time before you had to meet Alyssane, you started to look the small stores

“Did your father hear of the way you handled me last night?”, Cregan whispered as Anya was tending elsewhere, you look back sharply at the Northman.

“No, and he shall not!”, you said sharply

“Oh well, I guess if he had, he’d have me castrated”, he whispered for your ears only, “and I guess you don’t want that as it seems you like what you saw”, he teased

“Stop it”, you said back. Your father was a practical man, and if he had heard of what occurred last night, you would be the one at fault, as everyone involved was just following your command. “My father will never know of this”, you sentenced

“You wanted to lay with me? A gladiator? a slave?”, he asked then

“I was mistaken”, you said, trying to gaze upon what a man was cooking on his store towards the street, it smelled delicious

“You are mistaken”, you heard him claim, his thick accent made your thighs, “for seeking bedding before connecting, to seek sex, instead of love, to want lust before you even began to feel the fondness”, he said sincerely.

“Thinking love is something within the grasp of someone in my position is foolish, and I learned not to be blinded and distracted by foolish things”, you whispered sadly. You nodded at the man and exchanged a couple of aerus for a plate of lamb soup. “I’ll be married before the year is over”, you whispered.

#misguidedgladiators #cregan stark #ancient rome au #house of the dragon au #hosue of the dragon #cregan #gladiator!cregan #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan x y/n

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wholoveseggs · 8 months ago

Text

Phantom Desires

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

{Daemon Targaryen X Reader} Harrenhal is tormenting Daemon, blurring the lines between what is reality and what is a dream. The damp, cold castle is driving him mad—until he meets you. You smell like summer, feel like a dream, and your lips taste like honey. If only you weren't a ghost.

♡♡ I was super inspired by Daemons bad time at Harrenhal and I decided he needs more trauma ~xoxo ♡♡

5.3k words - Warnings: smuttt, ghost!reader, oral sex {m! & f! receiving}, Harrenhal lore, spooky shit, fiery death, Daemon is losing his mild, ghost sex, Alys Rivers being Alys Rivers {I love her}, horrifying as it is horny ...

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

{Daemon Targaryen Tag-List}

@elijahstwink @starshipcookie @absolutemarveltrash @odairtrqsh @darkened-writer @cheneyq @fallout-girl219

My love, please…

Daemon was woken by a voice calling him softly from across the room. It sounds like the breeze through the curtains, but when he opened his eyes, all was quiet.

He loathed this place, the damp made his bones ache and in every dark corridor he felt as if he was being watched. He could hardly sleep a full night in the cursed castle.

My love, come with me…

This time when Daemon's eyes snapped open, he could see a figure at the end of his bed, silhouetted against the moonlight that shone through the open window. He reached for his dagger, but stopped when the figure stepped into the light and disappeared.

"Fucking hell." Daemon cursed, rubbing his eyes with his palms. Maybe the damp really was making him lose his mind. He couldn't even trust his own eyes anymore.

He laid back down and closed his eyes again, pulling the furs around his body tighter. Sleep. He told himself. Go. To. Fucking. Sleep...

You stood there, watching him sleep from the foot of his bed. He was a handsome man, his blonde hair was tousled against the dark furs of his bed, the moon casting silver across his features.

You crept closer, kneeling down on the edge of the bed, your hands smoothing the sheets. You longed to touch him, to feel his warmth, to feel his hands upon you.

My king…

You whispered, tears stinging your eyes. He would never hear you, no one could hear you. You watched him stir a little, his eyelashes fluttering, his face frowning in his sleep.

Please, I'm begging you. I don't want to burn. Don't let me burn…

Daemon's eyes snapped open. He was sure he had heard something. There it was again. Crying. Someone was crying.

He needed some air, this place was starting to make him paranoid. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pulled on his breeches and a jerkin before grabbing a torch and stepping into the hall.

The castle was quiet, his footsteps echoing along the empty halls. He wasn't a fool, believing in tales of ghosts and the like. But this place... he had seen things he couldn't explain.

Maybe it was the stress of the war. Of the guilt he was trying so hard to ignore. All the lives lost because of his actions. The lives of people he loved.

A sob cut through the silence, pulling Daemon back from his dark thoughts.

Don't burn me alive…

A voice, soft and pleading, echoed from the end of the corridor. It had to be a hallucination brought on by lack of sleep and the damp.

Please…

There it was again. Daemon turned on his heel, following the sobs until he found himself outside a small door. A woman's voice came through the wooden frame, crying, sobbing, pleading.

His hand went to the doorknob, he was shaking, terrified. What was happening to him? He had become so unmoored that he had lost his grip on reality? He knew the only way to get it back was to confront it head on.

When he pushed open the door, he saw you, standing in the dark corner of the room, your arms wrapped around yourself as you sobbed.

For a moment he just wanted to turn around and leave. He didn't have the capacity to console a crying woman right now. But then, he couldn't stop staring at you.

You turned, looking straight at him. Daemon felt a jolt in his stomach. Your eyes, they were beautiful. They seemed to glow with their own light.

"Are... Are you alright?" He asked you, cautiously, looking around the room for someone else. There was no one.

You wiped your tears, the reason you had been crying had already slipped your mind. The moment you saw the man before you, his blonde hair shining like the moon and his eyes, they were so piercing, like he could see right through you.

"I'm sorry, I must have gotten lost." You said, taking a step towards him.

He looked you up and down, his face twisted with confusion. You were dressed in finery, soft silks and velvets, the kind of thing a noble would wear. But this room, it was bare, cold and damp, not fit for a mouse let alone a woman of your beauty.

"I'm afraid I must have missed your introduction." He replied, giving you a curious look.

You smiled softly, it was the first time in so many years you had a visitor. He was handsome, strong, everything a man should be. You knew what he was, a Targaryen. A dragonrider. Born with fire in his veins.

You reached your hand out, and his eyes darted to it. He hesitated before taking it, half expecting his hand to pass right through you, but instead your fingers were warm, solid.

"I'm sorry for intruding, my lady. I thought this room was empty."

Your heart was pounding, the blood rushing to your ears. His touch, it felt like fire, power and there was an odd void to it. Like death rode beside him.

"It's alright." You whisper, not wanting him to let go.

"Are you a ghost?" He asked, his hand sliding up your arm, as if testing you, checking to see if you were real.

You laughed, how silly, "A ghost? No."

Daemon let out a shaky breath, "Thank the gods."

"Do you want something warm to drink? It can get so cold here," You asked, you wanted him to feel welcome, to calm the fire in his veins.

He seemed hesitant at first, but then he nodded, a small smile forming on his lips.

He followed you down the dark halls, keeping his torch aloft to light your way. The flames illuminating the damp, cold walls and the dust that floated through the air.

"You know, it wasn't always like this." You said softly, as you walked through the narrow passageways, your fingers running along the cold wet stone. "It was once a beautiful place, warm, welcoming."

He glanced around at the rotting floors and the moss growing along the stonework. He couldn't imagine it.

"My understanding is that it was always a cursed place, even before Aegon's arrival," he stated as the two of you entered the kitchens.

It was just as cold as the rest of the castle, but there was a fire going, and a basin full of fresh water. He lit the torches around the room and you began pulling out ingredients and preparing the tea.

Daemon leaned against the table, watching you work. You didn't look like you belonged in this place, you were too clean, too soft. Yet you behaved like you owned everything you touched.

"They say that before Harrenhal was built, it was a vast forest of heart trees," You said, focusing on putting some herbs and root vegetables into the pot over the fire, "That the trees themselves were Gods, and their roots are still underneath the stones, waiting to reclaim what is theirs."

"Sounds like a lot of nonsense," Daemon replied bitterly, his skepticism evident.

"Yes," You agreed with a small smile, "But old stories often have a grain of truth to them."

He didn't understand why he was so drawn to you, why he sat and took the warm cup of tea that you handed him, or why he asked you to sit down next to him. He wasn't in the business of trusting people, but you... it felt like he had known you his whole life.

"The witch that resides here, Alys, said something similar," he added, remembering how she spun a tale about how this place was cursed.

Your eyes darkened and your lips set in a line.

"Do not trust her," You tell him, your voice firm, "She sees things that are not there and hides secrets that are not her own."

He laughed and shook his head. "And what makes you so certain?"

You shrugged, "I see things too," you replied nervously, twiddling your fingers on your mug.

Daemon took a sip of his tea, an amused smile on his face and his eyebrows raised, "Is that so? Well, what do you see about me?"

You looked at him, your eyes studying every inch of his face, his hair, the scars along his neck. "You wish for things you don't really want," You whisper, "You seek violence, but deep down, you only want peace."

Daemon's face darkened, his jaw clenched and his hands tightened around his mug.

"Peace is for the weak," He replied harshly, his voice low, threatening, "Only the strong survive, and take what they want."

He looked so sad, so lonely. You wanted to reach out and comfort him, but you were scared. There was a rage in him, and a desperation that seemed to engulf him.

"I didn't mean to offend." You apologize, lowering your gaze.

You didn't look at him, your fingers running around the rim of your mug, until you felt him move closer to you.

"You didn't." He answered you, his voice softer, "Tell me more, about yourself. If you will."

You looked up at him and you could see his eyes had changed, softened, there was a curiosity there.

"How did you end up here?" He asked you, watching the fire dance in your eyes.

He could see a shadow of sadness in them, pain, worry. But then it disappeared, hidden behind a mask of a beautiful smile. You fascinated him, such a pretty flower growing amongst the cold unforgiving stone.

"My husband put me here." You told him, tracing your finger along the scarred wood of the table. "He's gone now, lost in smoke,”

You could tell he didn't know how to respond. But his expression told you that he had lost someone too. He just quietly nodded, taking another sip of his tea. He was starting to relax a little more, the warmth of the fire and the comforting smell of the drink was starting to put his mind at ease.

"Why did you think I was a ghost?" You asked him softly, your hand coming to rest on his arm, as though to remind him you were real, solid.

Daemon sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, he didn't know how to answer that question without sounding insane. You could sense that a shadow hung around him like a stormcloud. His secrets coming to the surface.

"This place... It has a restlessness to it," he said, his voice low, cutting through the silence. "Some nights I lay awake listening to the walls groan, as though they are shifting and moving. I can hear... I can hear..." He trailed off, his voice getting hoarse.

You placed a hand on his cheek, his skin was rough and warm, and he leaned into your touch. You liked the way your skin felt against his, you wanted to assure him that you were trustworthy.

Daemon couldn't explain why he was telling you so much, but there was a calmness to you. When you touched him it felt like Dragonstone on a summer's day, like the feeling he got when he was alone in the clouds, flying far away from everything.

"Perhaps you are just lonely, and the castle is lonely too," You suggest to him.

Daemon couldn't deny the loneliness that plagued him. The nights were the worst, he had no one to confide in, no one to love him. He didn't want to think of his wife, his queen, far away and angry with him. Or his brother, dying alone and in agony. He had hurt them in ways that he could not atone for.

"Perhaps you are right," he admitted, taking your hand from his cheek and intertwining it with his own.

You watched him, the firelight dancing across his handsome features. His blonde hair was like liquid silver and his eyes were beautiful, like a summer sky.

"Stay with me tonight," He told you, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand, his eyes pleading. There was a vulnerability in him, one that drew you in.

Daemon couldn't tell if he was being a fool, or if he was simply desperate to not be alone. The practical part of his brain told him that a good fuck would help him sleep, but this felt like something else. You were beautiful, there was no denying that, but you also felt like a dream, a figment of his imagination.

You didn't say a word, just stood up, still holding his hand, and led him from the kitchen, through the hall, past the courtyard, up the steps to his bed chambers.

The journey there felt like a blur, he couldn't take his eyes off you. The way your dress swayed, the way your hair bounced, the way the moonlight lit up your skin. It was like you were made of mist, or smoke, something that could fade away any moment.

The room was colder than when he left, the air smelled stale, and the curtains were flapping in the wind. It had a haunted quality, like a portrait whose eyes follow you around the room.

He had left the fire burning, but the warmth had been extinguished, and the flames were low. You moved to light the candles, giving the room a soft glow, but the darkness remained.

You turned to face him, he was watching you intently, waiting for you to make a move. You stepped closer, closing the distance between you, your hands sliding up his chest. He was so warm, so solid, full of life and power.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling your face closer, and your lips met. It was a gentle kiss, hesitant, almost afraid. Like he was doing it for the first time.

His mouth was warm, the taste of the tea still on his lips. You could feel the desire building, the fire growing inside him. You pulled away, looking up at him. His eyes were dark, pupils dilated, a hunger in them.

"Please don't burn me," you whispered, the words sounding strange to his ears.

Daemon didn't understand what you meant by it, and his lust was too powerful to care. He captured your lips again, kissing you deeply.

Your fingers found the hem of his shirt, pulling it up over his head. The light of the candle flickered across his chest, illuminating the texture of his scars.

"You have seen battle," You comment, tracing the mark on his chest, a reminder of the war and the violence he craved.

"Many times," he said, his voice low, heavy with desire, "And I have many more to see."

"So much suffering," You whisper, leaning forward, kissing one that stretched across his chest, "So much blood."

He closed his eyes, letting the heat of your touch wash over him.

You moved down, dropping to your knees, pressing your lips against his stomach, feeling the hardness of his muscles. Your hands reached for laces of his breeches, untying them and freeing his cock from the confines.

He let out a shaky breath as your hand wrapped around him, slowly stroking his length.

"My king," you whispered, kissing the underside of his shaft.

Daemon let out a moan, his head falling back, his hand reaching out to grip the back of your neck. He needed more, needed to feel your lips wrapped around him.

You obliged him, opening your mouth, taking his cock into your hot, wet mouth. He groaned, his hips bucking forward, pushing himself deeper.

"Fuck," he hissed, his fingers tangling in your hair.

He looked down at you, his cock disappearing between your plump lips. The sight made him harder, and he was struggling to control himself. He wanted to fuck you, claim you.

Your hand reached down, cupping his balls, massaging them gently. Daemon moaned, his grip on your hair tightening, pulling your head forward, forcing his cock further down your throat.

He tasted like power, like a dragon made flesh. You could feel his pulse throbbing, the heat of his blood, the energy that pulsed through his body.

Daemon pulled you back by your hair, his cock popping out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting you. He stared at you for a moment, before bending down and picking you up.

He carried you to the bed, dropping you onto the sheets. You looked up at him, his eyes were wild, and the smile on his face was pure lust.

He untied your dress, pushing the fabric aside, his hands sliding across your breasts. He bent down, his lips wrapping around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the sensitive nub.

Daemon groaned, his hands moving down, tugging on your skirts, pulling them up around your waist, leaving you completely exposed to him.

He continued kissing his way down, his lips trailing across your stomach, his hands lifting your thighs, pushing your legs apart.

He settled between your legs, kissing your inner thigh, gently nipping at the tender skin. You felt his warm breath against your cunt, a soft moan escaping your lips.

He chuckled, pressing his face between your thighs, inhaling your scent. You could feel his tongue licking the length of your pussy, his fingers probing, pressing inside of you.

You gasped, your back arching, your hands clutching the sheets. You had never felt anything like it before, the feeling of his mouth and fingers moving in tandem, making your whole body tingle.

"Don't burn me, don't burn me," you whispered, over and over.

He pulled away, his eyes filled with concern, but he did not speak, did not ask you what you meant.

Instead, he pressed his lips against yours, his tongue sliding into your mouth. You tasted yourself on his lips, and you moaned, wanting more.

His eyes were gentle, trying to convey a tenderness he did not have, and his voice was quiet, as he whispered, "You are not going to burn."

Your hands went to his chest, clutching his shoulders, and you let him spread your legs. He was still fully clothed, but his cock was free, the tip of his erection pressing against your entrance.

You gasped as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. You clung to him, wrapping your arms and legs around him, moaning softly as he began to thrust.

He moved slowly at first, allowing you to adjust to his size, but he quickly increased his pace, pounding into you, the sound of flesh slapping together echoing through the chamber.

"My king, my king, please don't-" you moaned, feeling him hit a good spot inside, sending sparks through your body.

He didn't listen, didn't understand what you meant, just continued to fuck you, his fingers digging into your thighs. He could feel his climax building, his cock throbbing inside of you.

You could feel him getting close, his breathing becoming ragged, his movements becoming erratic. You fell over the edge together, crying out as he released his seed deep inside you.

"My king, oh my king," you moaned, your nails digging into his back, leaving deep red marks.

He collapsed on top of you, panting heavily, his head resting on your chest. He didn't know why you kept calling him king, perhaps you were a bit confused about his status. But he wasn't going to correct you, he enjoyed the way it sounded coming from your lips.

You stroked his hair, his breathing slowly returning to normal. You could feel his heart beating, his warmth, his power.

"Don't leave," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"I won't," you promised him, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

You felt him slowly fall asleep, his weight comforting on top of you.

There was a strange peace in the room, the darkness and the chill receded, the candlelight dancing across the stonework.

You held him, running your fingers through his hair, humming a tune that was as old as the castle itself.

Daemon woke to the sounds of screaming. His eyes shot open, his hands grabbing for his sword that was always close by. He was alone in his bed, the fire long since extinguished, the only light coming from the full moon.

He didn't have time to worry about where you had gone, the sounds of people shouting and a dragon roaring had him jumping out of bed, quickly dressing.

He ran down the corridor, the stones were ice cold, and the air smelled stale, the shadows dancing menacingly along the walls. He had to push against a door, it was swollen from the damp, but when he burst through, the smell of burnt flesh was thick.

You were in the courtyard, standing in the middle, your white dress glowing in the moonlight. You turned to look at him, your eyes full of tears.

"Please don't burn me," you begged him, your voice breaking.

The roar of the dragon filled his ears, and the sky was lit up with orange flames. He looked to the sky for the source of it, had Aemond arrived with Vhagar?

He was horrified when he saw that the dragon was not Vhagar, but the largest dragon he had ever seen. It looked like Balerion, but it had three heads.

He watched as it descended, its wings so large that with every movement, the sound of the wind would change, becoming deafening, thunderous.

He turned to look back at you, to tell you to run, but you were now right in front of him. Your face was mere inches from his own, burned black, melted, half of it hanging off.

"My king," you cried, your voice a broken, raspy sound. "Why did you burn me,"

Daemon screamed, then woke up in his bed. His body covered in a sheen of sweat, his heart pounding.

The bed next to him was empty, cold, the fire still burning low. He could still hear the screams, the dragon, the pain and suffering, still smell the ash and the charred flesh.

The sun was shining through the window, the sound of birds singing. Everything was peaceful, the castle was still, silent.

He sat up, his breathing slowing, his pulse returning to normal. He looked around the room, there was no sign of you, no sign that the night had ever happened.

He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to calm himself. It had just been a dream, a vision. Nothing more.

But he could still smell you on the sheets, and the image of you was burned into his memory. He got up, dressing quickly, needing to move, to do something.

He spent the day meeting with vassals and lords, discussing matters of the realm. Trying to keep his mind busy. He felt as though he was slowly losing his grip on reality, he swore he could see you around every corner, could hear your voice in every creak and groan of the castle.

The sun had set, and the candles were burning low. The castle was quiet, the servants had gone to bed, the halls empty. He felt like he was completely alone, the only one left in the vast void of this wretched place.

He made his way down to the kitchens, looking for you. It was a foolish thing to do, he knew, but he had to find you, had to see if you were real.

He found Alys, sitting on a stool next to the fireplace, her nose buried in a book.

"Evening," she said without looking up, "Tea is in the pot."

Daemon didn't want tea, he didn't want anything other than to know you were alright.

"Have you seen the new girl?" He asked her, trying to keep his voice even, trying to seem nonchalant.

"Who?" She asked, still not looking up.

"She..." Daemon tried to describe what you looked like, but when he tried to picture you in his mind, the only image he could see was the one from his dream, your burned and melted face.

Alys watched him with a slight smirk, this dragon lord was unraveling so quickly, it was delicious. She went back to focusing on her book. "Doesn't ring a bell,"

He knew there was no point in trying to get more out of her, so he gave up and left the kitchen.

"Perhaps she is where you left her?" Alys suggested, her laughter echoing after him.

He walked back to his chambers, his heart pounding, his palms sweating. He stood outside the door for a moment, before gathering his courage and stepping inside.

The room was dark, the curtains were still closed, the air cold. There was a book lying open on his bed, one he did not remember leaving there.

He picked it up, holding it far away from him, like it could burn him. It was a book of the histories, of the conquest. Of Harren the Black and his sons burning alive.

He wondered who else died in the blaze, the nameless faces who were forgotten by history, the servants and slaves, the wives and daughters.

Daemon was sure he was losing his mind, the castle was haunting him, and it was only a matter of time before he became one of its ghosts.

Don't burn me… My king…

He remembered the fear in your voice, the sadness, the pleading. Anger and confusion bubbled in his chest and he threw the book across the room, the pages fluttering as it landed.

He needed sleep, this was all because he wasn't sleeping. Once he was rested, his mind would be clearer. He put no stock in dreams or visions, ghosts and monsters, that was for children and fools, this was all just because he was tired.

He got ready for bed, blowing out the candles, the moonlight casting shadows across the walls. He settled into bed and closed his eyes, waiting for sleep to take him.

You watched him lay there, his brow furrowed, his face troubled. He tossed and turned, his eyes fluttering open and closed.

You laid down next to him, gently placing your hand on his cheek. He calmed at your touch, his breathing slowing. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, his skin warm, and his hair tickled your lips.

"My king," the words fell from your lips, barely above a whisper.

He opened his eyes, nearly jumping out of bed when he saw you, laying right next to him, your head on the pillow.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, his voice harsh, his hand gripping the dagger under his pillow.

You sat up, your hair falling around you, your dress slipping off your shoulder. "I was just... I just..." You tried to find the words, tried to think of what you were doing, where you were. "...I missed you," you said, the words not feeling quite right, but they were the only ones that came.

He stared at you, his eyes wild, his hand gripping the dagger so tightly, his knuckles were white.

"How did you get in here?" He asked, his voice low, dangerous.

You thought about it, trying to remember, but it was like there was a fog covering your mind.

"I don't know, I've always been here," you said, your voice trembling, tears starting to form. "I just wanted to see you."

He let go of the dagger, and took a deep breath.

"What is your name?" He asked, his eyes studying you.

"I- I don't know," you stammered, the tears falling freely now.

He reached out and touched your face, wiping away the tears with his thumb. His hand lingered, his fingers brushing against your cheek.

"You're not real are you?" He asked, his voice full of sadness.

"Yes I am," you cried, grabbing his hand, pressing it against your cheek. "I'm right here."

He sighed, closing his eyes. "Who do you think I am?"

"You're the dragon king," you said, smiling through the tears, “the great conqueror,”

He stared at you, his eyes filled with sorrow. "What is my name?" He asked, his voice barely a whisper.

"Aegon," you said, the word felt right, like it belonged in your mouth, but the fear in his eyes told you otherwise.

He pulled away from you, moving to the edge of the bed, his back to you. He felt your arms wrap around him from behind, your breasts pressing against his back, your head resting on his shoulder.

"You're not really Aegon," you whispered, "Are you?"

He shook his head, his eyes staring at the floor.

"I'm not real?" You asked, your hands clutching his shoulders.

"No, no you're not," he whispered.

Suddenly you were kneeling in front of him, your hands resting on his thighs, your head tilted to look at him.

"Then why can I touch you?" You asked, running your hands up his thighs.

He didn't answer, just pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours. You melted into him, his hands on your waist, his lips parting.

You tasted sweet, like honey, like a spring day, the flowers blooming. He needed you like a fire needs air, like a man needs water, his hands moving down to your hips, pulling you closer.

He moaned into the kiss, your hips rolling against him. You could feel his hardness beneath the fabric, the heat radiating from him. Your hands untied his shirt, pushing the fabric aside, revealing his bare chest.

You kissed his neck, biting and sucking on the tender skin. He groaned, his hands moving to your hair, tugging, pulling you away from his neck.

You stared at him, your eyes dark, full of lust, your lips swollen. He pulled you back in, his mouth crashing into yours, his hand moving to the back of your neck, holding you in place.

He lifted your skirts, his hand dipping beneath the fabric, easing a finger inside you. You gasped against his lips, his touch sending shivers through your body, your hands gripping his shoulders. He slipped another finger inside you, pumping slowly, then adding another. His eyes never left yours as the intensity increased, moving faster, your breath coming in short gasps.

Your lips brushed his, your voice a breathy moan. "Please my king.... Don't burn me, don't burn me,"

Daemon froze.

"I can't burn you," he said, his voice hoarse. "You're already dead."

Your face crumpled, the tears flowing freely, sobs wracking your body. The sound of you crying echoed strangely in the chamber, the shadows growing longer, the light from the moon turning crimson.

"I'm dead? You killed me?" You cried, trying to pull away from him, but he wouldn't let you go.

"I didn't kill you," he said, his eyes locked on yours. "That was someone else, in another time,"

You looked at him, your eyes wide, your mouth open in a silent scream. He watched in horror as your skin began to bubble and blister, peeling off in chunks. It was like you turned into sand in his arms, slowly crumbling, falling through his fingers.

You screamed, a blood curdling, terrible sound, like the screams he had heard in his nightmare. You were being consumed by fire, the flames eating away at your flesh, burning, boiling, the smell of burning meat filling the air.

He couldn't look away, couldn't let go. He was frozen in place, trapped, watching as you were destroyed. Then you vanished from his lap, fading into nothing.

Daemon sat in his bed, his skin clammy, his breathing ragged. He clutched his head, his fingers digging into his scalp. He couldn't take this anymore. He was going mad.

"Don't leave me here in this place," he whispered, he did not know why he had said it, but he did. It was a plea, a desperate, hopeless plea.

But you had left. Because you were never real.

And this wretched castle was just as lonely as before.

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