#ashblooddragons fanfic

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Chapter 2/?)

(sorry if this chapter is on the shorter side, I got back on a med I hadn't had in a while because my doctors weren't refilling it, and one of the side effects of this med is making me tired and fatigued. I honestly didn't even know if I would get chapter 8 of The Red Queen so I'm really sorry if this is short, or not written well or anywhere near as well as I try usually, I'm just trying to stay awake to get this out. sorry for the rant I'm gonna let you read now lol)

28 ac

Rhaellas Pov

I try not to fidget as Papa makes a speech, it's my sixth nameday which means I'm officially a big girl. 

“I warn you all, our little girl is a curious one. She will ask about the gift you have given her and want all the details. There is a reason we call her our curious dragon.” Papa says making all the lords laugh and making me blush and hide my face in my hands.

“So let us feast on this great day as we celebrate my sweet little girl, my firstborn, for her sixth nameday!” Papa finishes making everyone cheer as they take sips of their wine.

He bends down and kisses my forehead and whispers. “Happy nameday my curious dragon.” 

“Thank you, Papa.” I say making him smile before he and Mama walk down the steps of the high table to talk to some of the lords.

“When will you get to open your presents?” Rhaena asks picking at the food on her plate.

“Yeah, we're bored!” Aegon my little brother exclaims. He's only two but he's very smart, Mama calls him her little genius.

“I'm sure Papa or Grandsire will announce when I can open them.” I say grabbing Aegon's arm before he runs off. Have I mentioned he also never stops running! How he can run into a tree head first and laugh before running again is beyond me. I hope the baby in Mama's belly is a girl, I can't handle another brother.

“I want to see the dragons!” Aegon demands stomping his feet.

He always throws tantrums if he doesn't get his way so I try and find Mama or Papa in the crowd of lords and ladies.

“Don't speak to your sister that way boy.” I hear the deep and cold voice of Kepus. 

Aegon stops and turns to look up at him just when I do too. I know Kepus must be mad from the scowl on his face.

“I just wanted to say hi to Quicksilver.” Aegon says sheepishly already turning to hide in the shirts of my dress.

Kepus only hums before taking a sip of wine from his chalice. Thankfully for Aegon and Rhaena Papa and Mama seem to have had their nursemaids come to get them as it's time for them to go to sleep.

Once my siblings are taken away Kepus sits in the chair next to me that was previously taken by Rhaena.

“Happy nameday, ñuha prūmia. I got you something.” He says as he reaches into his jerkin pocket. He holds something in his fist holding it out to me. “Hold your hands out, ñuha prūmia.”

I do as he told me, holding my hands out under his. When he opens it I'm ready to catch something but nothing falls into my hands, but when I look at his hand I see he's dangling a beautiful necklace from his pointer finger. It has purple stones that appear almost like tear drops, and the metal looks like a darker silver. 

“Happy nameday, ñuha prūmia.”

“It's wonderful, where did you get it?” I ask, reaching out to feel the cool metal against the skin of my palms.

“It was in our family archives, supposedly it was Daenys the Dreamers. It's made of Valyrian steel and is encrusted with amethysts. Daenys was always said to love amethysts.” He says with a soft smile.

“Daenys? she wore this?” I ask excitedly, he knows how much I adore Daenys the Dreamer. I've probably made him read me the story of her more than a hundred times by now.

“That's what the Maester said, now turn around let me help put it on you.” He says in that tone that I know means he's not asking, he's telling. 

So I do as he says turning in my seat so my back is to him and grab my curly hair hoping I got it all. I feel the chill of the metal against my throat as I feel Kepus clip it. 

“There, now let me see.” I hear him say as he gently takes my hair out of my hands so it can fall down my back once more

I turn and look up at him watching as he smiles fondly. “Lovely, it matches your dress wonderfully, but it matches those eyes much better.” 

I smile touching the pink velvet dress Mama gave me for my Nameday. It has gold dragon embroidered along the skirt and at the neckline. But for some reason his words about my eyes is what makes me blush. But my joy is soon cut off my none other than Ceryse Hightower.

“I see you've given her the present you chose.” She says resting her hand on Kepus's shoulder. 

I watch as he tense something dark, something cruel flashes in his eyes before they become the stoney ones he lets the world see. 

I like the ones he has with me much better. I think before turning to his wife.

“Yes, it's a wonderful gift.” I say trying to stay kind even though I don't like her.

I never knew why I didn't like her, she's kind, gentle, sweet, but she's so boring. Her idea of fun is sitting and sewing, my idea of fun is running in the fields or flying with Papa or Grandsire. 

“That's wonderful, I'm glad you like it. Maegor worked very hard to find it. Had to be the perfect one, he said.” She says smiling at Kepus but he only seems to be getting more and more upset.

Cersye seems to catch the tense atmosphere and hands me a black leather journal with red ribbon to tie it. It seems to be imprinted with the Targaryen symbol on the front and back.

“As you are six namedays you'll start your studies with a Septa. I found having a journal helped me to remember my lessons and to take notes. I hope it helps you as much as having one helped me.” 

I can't deny that it's a thoughtful gift, and one she seems to have commissioned just for me. She obviously didn't just pick this up at some random book store in a rush. I think, feeling the soft leather against my palms.

“Thank you, it's a lovely gift. I'm sure it will get much use.” I say setting it back on the table. 

I'm about to ask if Kepus will dance with me when I hear the music start but his wife beats me to it.

“Dance with me, darling? You know this is my favorite.” She asks, already pulling him out of his chair.

I watch as he walks away with her to dance, I don't know why it hurts my heart seeing him with her, but it does. I hear a dragon roar from outside, it gives a pull at my soul like always.

“Come to me! I'm waiting!” it's starting to sound desperate, if only I could find out where it is. No, where she is.

This is the necklace Maegor gies Rhaella, or at least what I see lol

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl

[sugutoad]

If you EVER need a pro-team green Daemon fanfic with the most absolutely best writing of the Rogue Prince, go check out ‘The Red Queen’ by my other half, @ashblooddragons. I can not recommend this story enough. I was never a big fan of Daemon, but Red Queen! Daemon is literally amazing! Riley manages to show this beautiful side of Daemon! Catch up while it is still on Chapter 5 (next chapter is a time skip to episode 1!)

[ashblooddragons]

This Mysterious Love (Prolouge/?)

How could they ever want someone like me, I'm broken, I'm ruined, I'm nothing, and them? They are radiant, they are whole, they are everything.

If only I was worthy of him.

If only I was worthy of her.

Alicents pov

I stand outside of the carriage when I see Syrax land with Rhaenyra. 

“Syrax is growing quickly, she'll be the size of Caraxes soon enough.” 

“That's large enough to saddle two.” She says, I can see the hope in her eyes that I'll agree but can't. Father would have me locked in the Sept for three days, the only sustenance being the wisdom of the gods. Thankfully I don't want to ride on a dragon.

“I'm perfectly content as a spectator thank you.” I say before turning to sit in the carriage again. 

On the ride back Rhanyra continues to try and convince me to agree to fly with her. She isn't used to the word no, so I understand why she acts the way she does. though that doesn't mean it doesn't annoy me. 

When we make it to the keep she insists on seeing her mother. No matter how hard I try I can't fight the bitterness that I lost mine. Rhaenyra can't seem to stop talking about memories between her and her mother, about their plans once her sibling is born. For I can never do that, I can barely remember what mine looked like. I remember how she made me feel safe, loved, and cherished, but not her eyes, smile, or hair.

 How can you truly know if you love someone if you can't even remember them? 

When we make it to the Queen's chambers I stand by the door letting Rhaenyra greet and meet her mother alone. I only speak to greet the Queen as is proper. 

I look around the room taking in the scent of Lavender the Queen adores. Then the sweet scent of vanilla fills me the one I always put in my hair. A smile comes to my face as I remember the sent on my mother. How it always makes me think of a warm hug. It instantly calms my nerves as I take in the Midwives hard at work to prepare for the new addition to the royal family. 

“Ready to go?” Rhaneyra says startling me out of my thoughts and making her giggle. “Always so jumpy.” She teases before looping her arm with mine.

As we walk away I hear the Queen moan in pain, the Midwives and Rhaenhra don't react to it so neither do I. 

“I need to go to a council meeting, supposedly they can't pour their own wine.” Rhaenyra says scowling in annoyance.

I wonder at times if Rhaenyra truly understands how lucky she is, if she knows others would die or kill for the position she was given. But as always I bite my tongue and nod with a pinched smile.

Once she's left I sigh and look around trying to decide what I wish to do with my spare time before my lessons with the Septa. 

“Now if this isn't a sight for sore eyes, I the little Hightower all alone? Has Rhaenyra finally realized what a bore you are?” I hear the mocking tone of the Prince behind me. 

I try not to shiver, his gaze always felt so calculating, as if he is only waiting for you to make a mistake. And from what my father tells me, this feeling is true. 

“She was needed at the council meeting, one I hear your to be at as well.” I say trying to keep my bearings before turning to look at him. 

Gods he is gorgeous, there is no question why Rhaenyra practically drools after him. 

“Hmm, but do they? They will be talking about my brother's heir and the tournament. They might talk about the blasted Stepstones, but my brother won't care overly much for it. None of that is something the commander of the City Watch needs to worry about.” 

“Perhaps not, but it is an honor, one many would kill to have.” I respond annoyed him and Rhaemyra always seem to be scoffing at their duty. 

He only hums before touching the thin necklace around my neck. “A beauty like you shouldn't have such drab jewelry.” He says before reaching into his jerkin pocket and pulling out a gold and pearl choker necklace. 

It's gorgeous, and I tell him as such as I admire it. 

“Of course it is, I picked it out.” He responds before pulling it out of my reach. 

“If you wish to have it, take that pitiful necklace off and let me put this on you.” He commands in a tone that leaves no room for if I truly wish to or not, only that I must. 

And with that, I reach up and take off the dainty necklace Father gave me for my fourteenth nameday waiting with bated breaths what the Prince will do or command next.

“Such a lovely girl as yourself deserves to be claimed, how no man has taken you up is astounding to me.” He says before moving closer and putting the choker on my neck as he stares into my eyes.

I can get lost in those pools of lilac, I swear I can smell their sweet floral scent just from looking in his eyes. 

“Gevives.” He says as he looks into my eyes before he appears to almost recoil.

“Are you alrigh–” I go to ask but he cuts me off with a clear of his throat as he pulls his jerkin down.

“Lovely seeing you little Hightower. Perhaps I’ll be lucky enough to ask for your favor.” He says before partially running down the halls and out of my reach.

How curious. I think to myself before I hear the bell toll and realize I’m about late to lessons with the Septa so I rush through the halls. But had I stayed I would have seen the Prince watching after me.

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you!

TAGLIST @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @nommingonfood @yn-jackson @marvel-is-my-obsession @dreamlandcreations @baybaybear1 @fictionlurker @edenfanfictionsuggestions @seaevans

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Chapter 1/?)

Warning! implied marital rape at the end

25 ac Oldtown 

Rhaellas pov

I’m sitting next to Mama resting my head on her belly feel the baby move around. Kepus is getting married to a lady named Ceryse Hightower. I keep looking up at the ceiling as I love the art up there.

“Darling it’s time to watch and pay attention, the bride is coming down the aisle.” Mama says as Papa helps her stand up before he reaches over to pick me up so I can watch.

“I still can’t believe Father agreed to this, he’s only ten and three, barely out of boyhood and now he’s getting wed off?” Papa says he’s been saying that a lot lately.

When I see the bride I gasp, her dress is so pretty. It's made out of white shiny smooth stuff, green butterflies on her shoulders, and she's wearing a gold tiara with bright green stones in it. I hope one day I look that pretty when I'm married. I look down at the dress I'm wearing and smile, it's dark purple just like Kepus's eyes, and it sparkled when I was in the sun.

“There is nothing we can do, it is their child, it is their choice.” Mama says hushing Rhaena who is in our Nursemaid's arms.

“She is ten years his senior, wouldn't her family want her with someone closer to her age?” Papa continues. 

“Most likely, but he is a prince, what better match would they find?” Mama responds as she rubs her back, she does that a lot now that her belly is so big.

I look over at Kepus, he doesn't seem happy, aren't people supposed to be happy when getting married? That's what Mama and Papa say at least, so why does he seem sad?

Once the bride finally meets Kepus at the alter the Stepton starts warping ribbon around their hands. 

“What is the ribbon for?” I whisper to Papa, or I at least try. 

“It's symbolic, the ribbon is a way to show their union is strong, that they are now bound, tied together forever.”  For some reason, I don't like the thought of Kepus being bound to someone, to her.

I grow curious again when they start chanting the same thing “Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. I am his-her's, he-she is mine from this day until the end of my days.” 

“Why are they saying the same things?”

Papa chuckles when Mama giggles at my curiosity, they always say I'm as curious as a cat. 

“They are swearing before the gods that they are now bound, married.” Papa explains rubbing my back when I start to pout. He must not realize I don't like Kepus being married because he says this instead. “Shhh, you can stand on your own soon darling.” 

Once they are announced husband and wife everyone claps and cheers loudly. It startles me and Rhaena causing Mama and Papa to try and calm us down as Rhaena screams and I start to cry. 

“I told you bringing them to the wedding wasn't a good idea.” Mama says trying to get Rhaena to calm down. 

“They were fine until it got too loud for their little ears, isn't that right darling.” Papa says as he kisses my head and rests my head on his shoulder covering my other ear with his hand. 

Papa's hand are soft, not bumpy on the palms like Kepus, I want Kepus's hands to hold me, not Papa's.

Maegors pov

I know the Lords and Ladies are cheering, but all I can hear is Rhaella's sobs. Must be too loud, she never did like large crowds or loud noises, let alone the two combined. I think to myself trying to to scream at the crowd to shut up.

“Are you ready for the feast, husband?” My now wife, lady Ceryse Hightower asks with a smirk. 

She is beautiful, I'll give her that, but there is no world where she could match the fire within me. 

“I suppose.” 

She doesn't seem to like my short responses, as she frowns but quickly hides it with a fake joyful smile.

As we walk out I catch sight of Rhaella, Aenys seems to be trying to calm her down. But she keeps shrugging off his touch, hopefully, she will enjoy the feast and festivities more than this worthless wedding. I swear I've caught at least five lords snoring in their seats, seems they found it just as hard to stay awake with the Septons hour long speech of love and marriage before I was actually married.

Once we make it out of the Stary Sept we climb into a carriage to wave and greet the small folk as they rejoice in this farce. 

“we didn't have the chance to truly yet to know each other, so I had a thought, what if we did a game as we ride towards the festivities?” Ceryse asks fixing her necklace. She doesn't seem excited by the idea, but I would much rather do this ‘game’ over sitting in uncomfortable silence.

“What sort of game?” 

“Hmm, hpw about I ask you a question and you have to answer it? This of course goes both ways.”

“Fine.” I say with a annoyed and resigned sigh.

“I'll go first then!” She says only to stop and think for a moment. “What is your favorite color?” 

The first thing that comes to my mind is Rhaella's eyes, those pools of lavender that just looking at makes you feel calm and at ease. But I can't answer with that, for it doesn't seem like he best way to start a marriage, by declaring I love to stare into my little niece's eyes. 

Then I turn to Rhaella’s hair, those wild pure sliver riglets. How you can always find, I imagine you’d only lose her in the snow they are that pure and uncorrupted, just like her. 

The last thought is how when Rhaella laughs her rosy cheeks almost become a true crimson. The way her laughter always sets off mine. It always makes the worst days better somehow. Always makes my soul feel like it isn't a pit of pure blackness ready to destroy everything dear to me, but instead, it has some joy yet to be dug up and found for the world to see. 

And when I look down at my crimson red jerkin I know the answer, I don’t even need to think anymore.

“Red.” 

“Oh? I find red too angry of a color, I much prefer the calmness of green. though I see the appeal it is one of your house cars after all.” Ceryse answers even without me asking her the same question. 

A talker it seems. I think dryly as she keeps rambling on, and on about what colors she deems gorgeous and the ones she deems not worthwhile and why. 

Once we finally make it to the Hightower I partially bolt out of the carriage to escape that woman’s gods forsaken chatter. How one could love the sound of their own voice that much is beyond me.

I take her hand out of habit, for I was always taught to take my mother's, Rhaella's, and now hers.

When we enter everyone cheers and I notice my brother cover Rhaella's ears leaning down to whisper reassuring words to calm you down. She squirms in his lap trying to stay calm but the way her little face frowns and petal lips pout I doesn't seem my brother is succeeding. 

“I heard you are quite close to your eldest niece.” Ceryes says as she smiles and waves at all who have come to celebrate in our union. 

“Yes, what of it?” 

She seems to flinch at my cold tones before answering. “Only that we both have that in common, we adore our families and would do anything for them.” She responds trying to stay cheery.

As soon as we make it to the high table my father begins a speech. The same speech he does at every feast. His nonsense of how we must stand as one realm and how unions between houses will further the seven Kingdoms prosperity. 

Every time I hear it I can't help but roll my eyes, these whole already know this, they don't need their King reminding them at every fucking wedding. 

I drown out my father hoping his speech will end. maybe it will bore me to death and I won't have to truly go through with this wedding? I think dryly until Rhaella leans over Aeny's reaching for me. 

“Kepus, I want Kepus!” She demands a loom of fury on her face. She must have been denied me too many times this eve. 

For the rest of the feast I hold my little niece close letting her play with my rings and cloak. It almost seems like everything will be fine again, like it's just the two of us in her favorite field to pick flowers so she can make flower crowns for me and her. But soon it crashes down, the bedding ceremony begins and Rhaella is taken to her chambers to sleep the night away, already having fallen asleep against my chest. 

The rest is a blur, all I remember is wishes for those woman to stop touching me, and once they did I have Ceryse undressing me. 

I lay the rest of the night awake trying not to think about how I still feel like a boy, not a man who must make children. A boy who shouldn't have been touched the way I was, I fight the bile that rises in my throat all night forcing it back down. I keep reminding myself this is my duty, this is what I must do for the good of my family, and I can not tremble, I can not be scared, and I can not hide from this anymore.

I turn my skin to steel, and my heart to stone. But try as I must, my soul will not turn cold, for Rhaella has already changed it for the better. 

And with that thought I turn onto my side and pray to the fourteen again that sleep will find me, and it seems this time they truly did hear me.

special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I would be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff @baybaybear1

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Prolouge/?)

22 ac Kingslanding

Maegors pov

I could hear my good-sister's screams well into the night. I finally gave up trying to fid sleep once the hour of the owl came, I climbed out of my bed and went to where I knew my brother would be waiting until his wife had given birth to their child. She’s been in labor since yesterday at the hour of the wolf, surely she should have had the babe by now.

When I walked in I saw mother and father standing next to each other whispering as my brother sat in a chair sobbing.

“What’s wrong, she’s been in labor since yesterday, shouldn’t the babe be here?” I ask as I rub the drowsiness from my eyes. 

I watch mother and father look at each other silently having a conversation with only their eyes. Probably deciding if I should know or not. But it is not them who answers but my sniffling brother.

“The babe won’t come, the Maesters think Alyssa’s contractions are too weak.” Aenys sobs out.

“These are just guesses my son, they are giving her a concoction now to strengthen them.” Father says rubbing Aenys back as he sobs into his hands. 

I look at Mother and see a scowl on her face, she never liked how Father treats Aenys compared to me says he “treats him like some infant looking for their Mother’s teat.” and in this moment of watching his brother sob so openly, he wonders if his mother is right.

“What would happen if the concoction doesn’t work?” I ask looking from my brother to my Mother.

“Then we will have to choose who lives, the babe or the Mother.” Mother responds in a cold calculating tone. This only makes Aenys sob more.

“But it will not come to that, we have the greatest Maesters in all of the seven Kingdoms we have nothing to fear.” Father says trying to reassure Aenys again as he glares at Mother.

Mother scoffs and takes a sip of her amber gold wine, she doesn’t like it as much as Dornish red but ever since Rhaenys death she won’t touch anything to do with the Dornish. She often says. “They took my sister with that scorpion arrow, I suppose I am glad they had horrible aim and Meraxes did not perish either. If this, me not drinking their wine is the only way I can show how I hate them, then I will.” 

Mother and Father say Meraxes had seen the arrow coming, she had tried to dive so it wouldn’t his either her or Aunt Rhaenys, but she hadn’t noticed quick enough, and the arrow had split her in two. Meraxes has been inconsolable since her rider’s death, but Father has said he swears he sees her flying above Kingslanding over the last moon, as if looking, searching for something. This is odd as she much prefers the sulfur rocks and salty air of Dragonstone compared to Kingslandings stench and filth. 

I can not blame the dragon though, I do as well, I’d much rather be on our ancestral home instead of this filth-ridden city.

We all flinched, well besides Mother, when we hear a bone-chilling scream from Alyssa, and then it all went quiet. I hear Aenys sob more thinking his wife as perished until we hear the cries that only a healthy babe could make. 

Aenys bolts out of his chair and rushes to his wife, Mother, and Father not far behind them. I sigh in relief knowing I can finally get some much-needed sleep. 

The next morning I go to visit my new niece, when I enter I see my good-sister asleep on the birthing bed with new sheets dorning it so the stench of blood isn’t as pungent in the air. I turn and look at my brother who is smiling down at a bundle in his arms.

Are babes truly that small, Alyssa was huge and the bundle doesn’t even reach the length of my brother's forearm.

I’m cut out of my musing when Aenys looks at me smiling waving me over trying to keep quiet as to not wake his wife or the babe.

“Come meet your niece, Rhaella.” He says as he rests the babe into my arms making sure I hold her right.

When I look down I see her looking up at me with the most gorgeous lavender eyes I’ve ever seen, they take my take my breath away. I shake my head trying to gain my bearings again. 

“She’s so small, is she supposed to be this small?” I ask as I move some of the blanket to see a swarm of silver-white curls atop her little head.

“I had asked the Maesters the same thing, they said it’s normal for the first to be small.” He responds touching the tufts of hair upon her head. 

I nod not taking my eyes off hers, I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to. I sit on a plush armchair staring at her, staring at the very being who seems to keep my heart pumping now, the very thing I will always adore and cherish, the one thing, one person I could never hurt. I knew in this moment she would be the very focal point of my heart, but she would also be my very ruin.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the Header for this fic!!! I swear I'd be lost without you Girly!

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner

[ashblooddragons]

My Love, Mine All Mine

Chapter title: As Was Expected

(This Chapter was written by @sugutoad on Tumblr and Wattpad)

 “My Lord.”

 Mother’s maid bowed down their head as Aemond walked into his mother’s chambers upon her request. All Aemond could return was a simple nod before his gaze fell upon his mother, the Lady Alicent Hightower, wrapped in green cloth, her fingers drumming against her study table, her eyes downcast and brows furrowed over some sort of work fallen upon her now that Father was growing ill. The fabric of her dress, the loveliest green silk, fell into a square opening near her bosom, the hem embroidered in dainty gold flowers. His red-haired mother looked up, a tired smile gracing her face.

“Aemond, my son,” she quickly got up, her hand almost knocking down the golden cup placed in front of her. “I have been meaning to see you for.. for something of importance.”

 She always got to her point unlike Father who would speak in riddles (it only worsened when he became ill a year ago). Aemond could only take a few steps near the bed, placing a single hand on the wooden frame, the alabaster wood scraping against the tips of his fingers. He knew what his Mother wanted of him. 

To marry.

 It has been his duty, his fucking duty, since Aegon failed to marry a wealthy lady during his youth. And while his drunkard brother could certainly pursue a marriage at six-and-twenty, it seemed he would rather strip himself in the company of auburn haired prostitutes, a wine cup twiddling in his hands as Aemond performed his duties for their house. Mother had certainly lost her faith in hopes of her eldest son marrying, but Aemond? 

 Aemond was the perfect son. He knew he wasn’t the golden son — that was his little brother, Daeron — but Aemond always abided by his duty. He was always abiding and listening to whatever his mother wished him. Shall courtship ever befall upon him, he knew it was expected to marry the daughter of a Duke. 

 His hand twitches by his sides, quickly clasping into one another behind his back. 

“I shall marry whoever you see fit, Mother.” 

 If fulfilling his duty as a true Targaryen meant to marry, should he not be given to another Targaryen? Such marriages between Targaryens were not uncommon, a practice that had quickly become a known tradition to their House. His Uncle Daemon had married his own niece and Aemond’s sister, Rhaella. Aemond pushed back every thought crawling through his brain, which were nothing but fantasies for the lost, little boy wandering through his heart. The little boy must be cold, for his only warmth would be the laughter of Aelys dancing in his heart and even that Aemond had to lock away. 

 Mother’s eyes almost brightened, a small smile tugged at the corner of her lip. Aemond almost pitied his Mother. She had sent her favourite son already to study under the guidance of Uncle Lorent, and now it shall be him who will tug gently at her heart, telling and lying to her (and himself) that his departure shall be fine, before rippling the thread completely leaving their hearts shattered pieces of pieces of glass. The shards decorate their lives, each step piercing, leaving drops of crimson and reminding them of duty.

 Aemond’s left eye throbbed. Years of wearing his eyepatch, he expected to be accustomed to this pain that was meant to be nothing, but it was almost an infectious pain. Shutting his eyes closed, he focused on the build up of pain, before his Mother broke his silence, practically ripping out his other eye with her suggestion.

 “I have received a proposal from Duke Baratheon. He wishes for you to consider his youngest daughter as a possible match.”

 Aemond straightened, nodding slightly at his Mother’s suggestion. “Floris Baratheon?” He replied, the name tasting like the bitter wine his elder brother would force him to drink down so Aemond could also become a ‘true man’ like him. Aemond could imagine a life with her – a raven beauty of her own with a heart so kind, perhaps a bit too kind for Aemond’s own liking. Aemond’s upper teeth grazed his bottom lips. “Should it not be better to marry Cassandra Baratheon, if this marriage is truly for the sake to solidify the power and alliances of our house?”

 Cassandra Baratheon was after her father’s heir. A bore who complains about almost every little thing, but an heiress nonetheless. 

“Floris Baratheon would be a good match,” Mother pressed, her tone was soft yet resolute. “It is a matter of alliances. The more houses we can gather towards us, it will strengthen Aegon’s claim to his rightful Dukedome.”

 Aemond blinked at his Mother, scoffing under his breath as he took a few steps away from her, his hand now resting on her chair, the soft leather itching against his finger. Mother sighed behind him, walking beside him and placing a hand on his arm. Aemond let himself soften against his Mother’s touch. 

  He understood his mother's reasoning, but the thought of marrying someone so... gentle, so meek, was repulsive to him. And yet, he said nothing. He would never argue with her. He was her son. And he had long learned to bury his own desires, his own dreams, in service of the family.

 But it should be him, who should be Duke of Stormlands. Aegon can take the Red Keep to himself, but Aemond worked hard for what? For nothing to be placed in his now calloused hands? It was Aemond who studied into the night, onky to wake up in the library with a blanket placed atop him. It was Aemond who trained with Sir Criston until blood replaced tears and a sapphire replaced his eye. It was him who deserved something of sort. He could not say it nor admit it out loud, but this was all because he was the second son. Because he was set to inherit no land from his Father nor allow his Mother to set her ambitions upon him because he was born second. 

 Because he was born weak.

“And Cassandra Baratheon wants someone who is first born, I presume?” 

“Aemond, you know it is not because of.. Cassandra is simply looking —“

“Cassandra?”

 Before Aemond could even muster a single word, the door had swung open with a creak, and his older brother stumbled in, a scent of wine swirling around him. Aegon always believed himself untouchable when consuming wine, a god in his own eyes. Yet his brother was anything but that as he looked up at Aemond, lilac eyes bleary and pink, pale blond hair tousled with strands falling all over his face (their Mother’s face if Aemond had to say. Aegon took his breath in the world, stealing both his mother’s face and her girlhood). 

 Aemond turned to face Aegon. “Yes, Cassandra Baratheon.” His brother could only look at him with amusement before turning to Mother.

“What about Cassandra Baratheon?” 

 Mother visibly cringed at Aegon’s slurred words, sighing to herself. “Your brother persists that he should marry Cassandra, although,” she hesitated, gesturing her head at Aemond, “It is Floris who would be more suitable for him.”

 Aemond almost scoffed (although he would never truly scoff at his beloved Mother) before assuring her. “And I have said that I will marry who you choose. If it is Floris you find the best choice for me, it will be her I will court and marry.” Aemond paused himself a second, deciding to himself if he had been discourteous to his Mother and quickly chose to shut his mouth before anything else escaped. 

“Ah, brother, still brooding over your duty?”Aegon slurred, a lopsided grin etched on his face. “When will you learn to live a little? You are quite better off with a bottle of wine and a dancing partner than to discuss matrimony with Floris.”

Aemond’s lips twitched, almost smiling at his brother’s words, though it faded quickly. “I am not the one lost in the bottle, Aegon,” Aemond replied, his own tone much flatter than that of Aegons. “And, I would not prefer to risk our family’s future on your whims.”

“Touché,” the French word rolled out of Aegon’s mouth naturally, as he leaned against the doorframe, his feet planted firmly on the floor as if the very wood of the frame might collapse under his weight. If Aemond had to assume anything, it would be Aegon collapsing on his own weight, not that of the door. “But really, Aemond? Floris Baratheon? You might as well marry a storm. At least they are exciting.”

 Aemond’s jaw tightened at his brother’s words, but he did not let his irritation show. If he did, Aegon would boast about his new ‘accomplishment’ for weeks to come. Instead, he turned slowly, his gaze flicking towards Aegon. His brother always seemed to find some sort of joy in Aemond’s misery. 

“Excitement is not what I seek. But at least, a storm serves its purpose,” Aemond left the words hanging in the air for a moment, eyes prying at Aegon. “Unlike your wine-soaked adventures.”

 Aegon’s grin faltered, just for a heartbeat, before it returned once again — although it resembled a grimace more than the smile he once had plastered on his face. Aegon’s tongue wet the bottom of his lips, a hand running through his hair, as to steady himself.

“Aemond,” Aegon said with a dismissive chuckle, his eyes widened. “Always so serious. If you spend half as much time living as you do brooding, maybe you’d find some joy in something.”

“Living,” Aemond murmured quietly, almost to himself. “You think I’ve had no joy because I live for others, but I live for my family. For our House and wishes.”

 Aegon only raised an eyebrow at his words. “House Targaryen? Or Mother’s wishes? You can not do them at the same time, no matter how hard you try.” When Aemond looked at him, Aegon simply shrugged, cocking his head to the side as he justed out his bottom lip. Aemond’s fingers clenched into fists at his side. His words did stung, but it was the truth, that only his brother had the courage to say, that hurted the most. 

 Aemond was a slave to his duty— and for what? So he could marry a Baratheon girl he barely knew? To tie his own future to a family that had no more ambition than to sit in the shadows of the Targaryens?

 Mother stood quietly to the side, her eyes flicking back and forth between her sons, sighing softly, her fingers twitching against one another. Harmony did exist between Aegon and Aemond, but only for a moment before it would falter away and slip further from her reach with every word ever passed between them. 

“Aegon,” Mother said sharply, her voice cutting the tension intoxicating the room like a blade. “Enough. This is not time for your ridiculous games.”

Aegon straightened, his face twisting in a mockery of respect. “Of course, Mother. You always know what is best for us,” his tone dripped in sarcasm, before he whispered quietly, only for Aemond to hear. “For you.”

 If Mother did hear what Aegon, she chose to ignore, as she did often.

“Floris Baratheon,” she repeated, her gaze flickering between the two of her blond sons. “She is the match that will strengthen both of our Houses, and Aemond shall court her. End of discussion.”

“And we shall have to deal with Lord Borros’ temper and complaints at family gatherings? Think of the joy…”

“Aegon!” Mother’s voice was harsh, much harsher than she was accustomed to when she spoke with her other children. “Do not mock Lord Borros. Do you understand?”

It wasn’t truly a question for Aegon to solve, it was a command given by a Mother to her eldest son.

Aegon made a low, mocking sound. “Floris, Floris, Floris! Tell me, Aemond, what will you do when the wind blows and you find yourself tangled in not her hair, but that of Aelys? Will you wish to marry Floris when it is Aelys who turns herself into a storm?”

 Aemond turned to his brother, unable to hold back his anger any longer. To speak of Floris was one thing, but to speak of Aelys was another matter. “You speak of storms like they are mere inconveniences, Aegon. But storms can be controlled, can be ridden, can be used. You, however, only know how to let them consume you.” 

 At least I have Aelys, all you have is your delusions about Myrielle Vallici consuming you. Aelys loves me, and you? Do you know love?

 Aemond did not need to say anything more, for Aegon understood what Aemond meant. Aegon looked up at Aemond as though he was seeing his younger brother for the first time, the drunken haze in his clearing just enough to catch the spark of fire that burned beneath Aemond’s heart. Aemond was not one to quickly act in anger, but he was a Targaryen and the fire only grew in his heart. 

 Aemond stayed pinned down, his feet firm on the ground. Aegon’s once slacked jaw tightened. Aemond should apologise, he truly should. But his voice was stuck in his throat, he would not, would never, humiliate himself in front of Aegon. 

 But for Aegon to be humiliated or put down by others was something else. His face would be veiled with a blank look similar to that of when Mother would yell at him. When she would yell, compare and do anything that made Aegon hate himself. It wasn’t that Aegon personally told Aemond about Mother or Grandsire complaints, no, that courtesy would be given to Alaric Vallici. But Aemond has ears. He had always been the quietest of his brothers growing up; his ears were practically everywhere. They never would acknowledge his existence, so Aemond was left behind, but he would observe every single action — like how Aegon would fiddle with his hands when he was nervous like Mother, or how Alaric simply looked at his sister with admiration far greater than glances shared between normal siblings. 

 A vein in his throat throbbed, his heart practically crawling in his throat and clawing at his chest to say something, but an angry fire consumed every thought. For all Aemond knew, Aegon would tear him apart, but would he? With Mother watching? 

He would. 

 The last Aegon could ever care for is their Mother’s opinion as far as Aemond knew his lilac eyed brother. And yet, he stayed still, a muscle ticking in his jaw. Aegon was quick to anger and quick to act, but his eyes remained downwards, flicking up to Aemond.

“You think you could tame a storm, Aemond?” Aegon asked, his voice low, almost thoughtful, as he cocked his head to the side. “You can not. It is not in your grasp and not of your worth.”

 The worth of a second son was almost non-existent and Aegon knew how to jab it into Aemond’s heart — his brother much bolder with his words than Aemond who concealed everything behind riddles and words his brother’s idiotic brain would not comprehend.

 Aemond opened his mouth to say something — to say anything that would belittle Aegon’s worth once again. His drunk brother spoke so eloquently about Aemond’s worth, but what of his own? Asides his status as the eldest son, Aemond knew his brother was of no value to his family, much less anyone else.

“Aegon,” Mother’s voice interrupted, softer this time. “You will do as you are told. Do not make this harder than it has to be.”

 Aegon’s expression faltered, his grin shifting into a solemn mask. Aegon was not one to give up so easily when it concerned himself, but he tried so hard to please Mother sometimes. And yet, Mother would never blink an eye towards him. Aemond almost pitied his brother at times. Almost. He gave a resigned sigh and looked at Aemond, who stood there like an idiot of sorts, not even sparing him a glance. Should Aemond have to glance at Aegon’s face once more, he feared for what he would do to his brother. 

“Fine,” Aegon muttered. “Floris Baratheon, then. Do what you will, little brother. I suppose it is the only thing you can do to make Mother proud,” Aegon hesitated, before mumbling quietly. “Though, I doubt she’ll ever be proud of me.”

 He turned on his heel, stumbling slightly before allowing himself to fall back into Mother’s bed, his hand rubbing his forehead. He paused, glancing upwards at Aemond, and Aemond stood silently for a moment. There was a flicker of something — perhaps, regret — shining in his eye. “You might want to start learning how to live a little, Aemond,” he said, his voice was quieter now, but a rasp still itched at Aegon’s throat. “Before you start to look for things to tie you down.”

 The air felt a rope around him, slowly choking him and preventing him from mustering any noise. All Aemond could hear was his Mother’s soft breath beside him. Before saying anything, he turned to Mother, meeting her eyes.

 Mother’s lip tightened as she placed a hand on his arm, nibbling at her bottom lip. “Do not let him provoke you, Aemond. You are the one who will carry this House, you know this.” She hesitated, then spoke again, her voice so soft as if Aemond’s heart was that made of glass. “Not Aegon.”

 Aemond wanted to scream at her, to tell her that all this, that he, would never be enough. That it wasn’t about duty. It wasn’t about the Baratheons or their alliances or him. It was about a hunger that had clawed at him for years, a hunger for something—someone—he could never truly have.

 From her bed, Aegon chuckled, half of his face buried in a pillow. Aemond’s chest felt tight with hundred words unspoken. His gaze fell to the floor. Mother’s touch tightened for a bit, almost as if she was trying to reassure him before letting go. Her steps almost echoed, before she left, her presence all, but a phantom.

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?” 

 Aemond turned towards his brother, who had steadied himself. He ignored Aegon’s mockery of his Mother. Aegon could spend all his life trying to learn what Mother meant, but his hands would remain empty of any semblance of the duty he was meant to follow. 

Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? 

He hated those words, each letter nothing, but a reminder of the day where Aemond lost his eye. He'd made the mistake of belittling his nephews, calling them bastards during a fight. And then it was gone, his right eye was gone. And no one stood by his side, but his Mother, whose face had been so devastated that Aemond wanted to cry again — in the room where all eyes pried at her, waiting for her to make a mistake or to give up, she stood up and asked for justice. 

A mother’s rage was a dangerous one. 

 Footsteps approached once again, and Mother came before them. Misery of all these were etched in her beautiful features and yet, Aemond believed his Mother to be the most beautiful of women. A small — almost eager — smile coloured Mother’s face. 

“I forgot to tell you, but we are invited to dinner,” her eyes steer the room as if she were looking for something, but set her gaze on Aegon instead. “At the Vallici’s. They have been graceful enough to host the annual dinner this year. I expect both of you to be ready and on your best behaviour, especially you, Aegon.”

 Aegon looked sheepishly at Mother, and Aemond wholly believed his brother’s brain was still comprehending that they were to visit the Vallici Family. It was not something special to Aemond, afterall, it was expected of either the Targaryens or the Vallicis to host an extravagant, but private dinner before every season. It was simply a chance that the Vallicis were going to host it this year (it truly was expected though. Rhaenyra hosted last year's dinner, Uncle Daemon and Rhaella the year before and Mother the year before that).

“Of course, Mother.” Aegon nodded and Mother returned the nod with a smile — much to Aegon’s delight and Aemond’s dismay. The second Mother left, Aegon plopped himself on his arms, almost forgetting the entirety of what happened less then ten minutes again. Aemond could only ever wish to have his brother’s carefree nature. 

 The sight of his older brother, so carelessly sprawled on the bed, made Aemond feel something akin to disgust. He had squandered everything, his place in their family, his mother’s trust, even his own dignity. 

 Aemond’s gaze narrowed, his hand instinctively gripping the back of the chair again. It was so quiet now that Mother had left and Aegon allowed his delusions to fill his head. He wanted to speak, to tear into Aegon for his words, for his carelessness, but he knew it would be fruitless. Aegon never listened. Aegon never cared.

 Yet it seemed his brother could hear the very thoughts that consumed him. Aegon stood up, tired, but still he was moving — not towards him though, but rather a wine-filled vase. 

And Aemond watched.

 But Aegon did not drink. He simply looked at the chalice in his hand, twiddling it around and then, he looked up at Aemond. He opened his mouth to say something — Aemond could already tell it would be another attempt at provocation — but he stopped and lowered his head down. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Aegon mumbled, more to himself than to Aemond. “You know I didn’t.”

 Aemond nodded, though it was a slow, reluctant motion. Aegon was always the more pathetic of the brothers — the desperate one who needed everything in his hands yet he would not ask in fear of appearing weak. He did not trust his brother’s words, but surely it would be better to agree than to engage in another fruitless fight. Instead, he simply sighed, his shoulders sagging with the weight of it all.

“You never do,” he said, his voice quiet (almost soft), but laced with the bitterness he held often in his voice when speaking with Aegon. “But it’s fine, is it not? As Mother said, it is not you who will be forced to carry this House.”

 Aegon gave him a blank stare, then a hollow laugh. “Carry the House,” he repeated, his tone mocking. “You always say that. But who’s going to remember you when you’re gone, little brother? Who’ll care about your dutiful sacrifices? People will remember me, not you, the second son with his nose up in his duties, but the eldest son who marked a new point in his society. You always say you have responsibilities. Responsibilities or burdens? There’s a fine line, brother. Perhaps you should consider what you truly want.”

 The words landed heavier than they should have, cutting deeper than Aegon had intended. He wanted to shout at Aegon, to make him understand, but instead, he simply clenched his fists and turned away. Aegon was not the one to make some ‘point’ of his in this life, nor any other. If anything, his brother would forever be known as the rake he was, his life spent away drowned in wine and whores.

“You should go,” Aemond said, his voice steady. “The dinner is tonight. You’ll need to look presentable.”

Aegon’s eyes followed him, his lips twisting into a smirk. “I’m always presentable.”

“Do not drink as much as you did last time.” Aemond shot back at him, slowly walking past his brother, leaving him there, standing in their Mother’s chamber. 

“Only if you let me choose your next dance partner when Lady Danbury hosts the first ball of the season!” Aegon retorted, almost screamed as Aemond made his way to his chambers.

Aemond didn’t respond.

Aegon was, but a ghost he left alone and Aemond was nearing his own chambers. But his steps began to slow down, not ready for the preparations that awaited him.

He would go to this dinner, as expected. 

He would present himself, as expected. 

He would endure, as expected.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 8/?)

112 ac

Your Pov

It's the day of Mama's funeral. I try not to cry again as I sit in the bath as my maid wash hair. 

“What oils would you like today, Princess? Your usual jasmine?” Orchid asks already reaching for the oil bottle ready to pour it in the tub and my hair.

But instead, I stop her and think about Mama's calming scent and Ali's vanilla scent, or at least that's what she calls it.

“What was Mama's oil?” I ask and I see the flash of sadness cross Orchid's face before she smiles and grabs another bottle. 

“Lavender, the late Queen loved Lavender.” She says filling the dropper before letting the oil drip into my bath and hair.

“Can I have vanilla too? Or would that smell bad?” I ask curiously before biting my lip nervously.

“Lavender and vanilla would be lovely together, Princess.” Orchid says before reaching for the small vial of vanilla oils.

Once she has them both in the bath and my hair I feel safe, like a warm hug, like I can breathe again. I start to cry again but Orchid acts like she doesn't notice, most of the maids act like they don't notice. I don't understand why, why can't they wipe my tears like Kepus and Ali do? Why can't they hold me so close like Kepus and Ali do? They hold me so tight it's hard to breathe but I can feel their hearts beating feel they're alive feel they're here.

But what confuses me the most is why Mama had to leave me? She promised after this baby was born she would play with me finally, that she would come to my leasons and see how smart I'm getting. But now she can't do that, because she's gone forever. 

Everyone keeps saying that, but they won't tell me how long forever is, only that it is forever. It doesn't make sense, I just want to know when I can see my Mama again when she'll be back to play and see how smart I am. 

“All done, Princess.” Orchid says wiping my face of the water from the bath, but from her frown I can tell she was also wiping my tears. 

I stand in the bath and use my step stool to get out so she can wrap me in a warm towel that always feels warm against my skin because she rests it next to the fire, and smells of something woodsy. 

I'm quickly dried and dressed in a black dress. Put on thick wool stockings as it's chilly today and my hair braided so it's a crown upon my head. Orchid helps me put on my bracelet and necklace from Kepus like always before someone knocks on the door.

“Come!” I call out rubbing my already raw and painful eyes. I then look down in case it's Papa, he seems to not be able to look at me anymore. I don't understand why though I haven’t done anything wrong. 

“Ñuha riña, it's time to go.” I hear Kepus say.

Not Papa, I don't have to hide my face. 

I turn and look up and see him frown at how bloody my lips and how red my eyes are. 

“Can't I wear red, it's a much prettier color than black.” I say frowning

This seems to make him happy as he chuckles with a shake of his head before he kneels down so he can hold my hands in his. My hands always seem so small when he holds them, not like the big girl hands I like to think they are. “No, I'm afraid not ñuha riña. Black, is traditional mourning colors you will be wearing them for a while yet.” He says inspecting my hair to see how well done it is.

“I did it today, M'lord.” Orchid says from her spot behind me with her head down.

Kepus made sure to tell Orchid only she and him can do my hair now, maybe the ‘little Hightower’ but I don't know who that would be. 

“I figured as much, it's not in her eyes.” He responds with a nod to my maids before picking me up and walking out of my room.

Once in the carriage I see Nyra who is glaring at me as usual but this time it sends chills down my spine. Had I done something? And then I see Papa next to her and he won't look at me, as if doing so brings him pain. I must have done something bad, but what?

The ride is quiet, almost suffocatingly so, so I feel I need to break it. 

“When will me and Nyra know when to tell Syrax and Stromchaser to dracarys?” I ask Papa but when he doesn’t answer I turn to look up at Kepus instead.

“I’ll count down from five, once I say zero you two command them to light the pyre.” He says glaring at Papa or some reason.

I only nod and look out the window watching as the smallfolk cry for Mama. They miss her too, hopefully their Mama’s aren’t goen too. 

When we make it to Rhaeny’s hill Kepus picks me up again and whispers to me “it’s quite steep, ñuha riña, don’t you tripping and getting hurt.” 

I feel the wind against my back, it makes me shiver as I cling to Kepus hoping he'll keep the cold away. Once we make it to the top of the hill he sets me down on my feet. He lets me cling to his leg as the Valyrian priest chants.

I try and ignore them as I look at Mama and baby Baelon, they're wrapped in a brown cloth so tight I can see the outline of Mama's arms, legs, and belly. Her belly looks weird but I ignore it as it's probably because she's dead. 

Once the priest is done and walks away I let go of Kepus and walk forward with Nyra. 

“It's time girls, are you ready ñuha riña?” Kepus says standing between us.

I want to scream ‘NO’ but I know that I must, that Mama and Baelon must be ‘put to rest’ or at least that's what Ali said. So instead I nod my head as I wipe my tears.

Kepus looks between us one last time before sighing and nodding his head, a lmost like he's defeated. 

“Five.”

I gasp realizing I'm never going to be ready this, to let Mama go. At least before I had to turn her to ash in the wind I could pretend she was just on a long trip, that she wasn't gone that she was only seeing her family in the Vale.

“Four.”

I feel my heart clench, feel it about beat out of my chest. It's painful, it hurts, but not as much as when I burn Mama away.

“Three.”

I can't breathe, why can't I breathe? I can feel my heart practically beat out of my chest. I feel my lungs constrict so I can only take in small gasps of air.

“Two.” 

I feel Kepus rest his hand on my shoulder giving it a squeeze. I still can't breathe, still feel my heart beating out of my chest, but for some reason, it's all getting easier to deal with.

“One.” 

I hear Stromchaser let out a cry of pain, Kepus says they feel our emotions, our pain, I have to stay calm for Stromchaser. But I can't I can't calm down, I'm losing Mama forever.

“Now.” 

I figured out what forever means, and all it took was me screaming with Nyra, commanding our dragons to make Mama and Baelon ash in the wind. Make them gone forever.

Once Stromchaser and Syrax stop their flames I turn to Kepus leaping into his arms and sobbing. Sobbing that I'll never get to see Mama again and play in the gardens with her. Sobbing because I'll never get to meet my baby brother. Sobbing that Mama and Baelon are gone forever.

Daemons Pov

I stand leaning against the Weirwood tree waiting for that blasted Dornish man, Cole. 

I knew after that fucking Sarwyck lost in the first round you needed a better guard. Though my pride was hurt I can't deny that Cole proved himself, that he would be the perfect guard for you. 

I remember the look of hos face when I grabbed him after, it was a look of horror, of fear of what the Prince of the city would do to him. Instead I only whispered one thing.

“Meet me at the Weorwood tree in a week's time at the hour of the wolf.” 

He quickly agreed of course but now I'm wondering if I should have threatened him instead of letting him go on his merry way. 

I hear a twig snap under someone's foot and turn to see him. He seems to have rushed here if the sweat on his brow is any indicator.

Must have realized he was almost late. I think with a cruel smirk. 

“You wished to see me, my Prince?” He says winded and bent over with his hands on his knees catching his breath.

“I have an offer for you, though if you take it you'll answer to me and no one else.” I say standing straight and walking towards him.

“Wh-what do you mean?” 

“You took down one of my Gold Cloaks, he was in charge of the care and well-being of the youngest Princess. Can't have someone who can't even beat a stewards son protect my sweet little niece, now can I?” I say in a calm voice that has always led men to do as I please, even my brother, the King. 

“And what does that have to do with me?” He asks standing straight again hands behind his back.

I know that stance, I know it well. 

“You're a soldier aren't you.” I say but it was rhetorical

“Yes, my Prince.” He responds curtly but I catch the scowl that he was read so easily.

Oh just you wait, Ser Cole, you'll learn to hide everything in this pit of vipers soon.

“If I could make it where you have a very high chance of becoming a Kingsguard, would you?” 

He seems shocked from the way his mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water. I can't fight the chuckle that leaves me, nor would I want to. 

“It would be an honor, my Prince. But why would they choose a stewards son over a lord's son who has also been to war?” He asks, curious and skeptical to this offer.

“And what I'd I said they wouldn't be others who have gone to war?” 

He freezes for all of ten seconds before a smile comes to his face. “And what would you need from me? Of course after you give me such a high ranking at court you will want something in return?” 

I stop and look at him surprised. Most who are not from Kingslanding would have taken this chance by now, I can't tell if I'm proud, annoyed, or impressed. I think before responding.

“You see, I noticed something about our match. I had my blade to your throat, I let you live, and yet at the first chance you got back up and made sure I'd be the one to yield.” I say smiling when he starts to shift uncomfortably.

“It was a fair fight, you know it just as much as I.”

“Never said it wasn't, you never said you yielded, so by all rights you could, and did get back up to continue to fight.” I say smirking when I see the tension leave his shoulders.

“That still doesn't explain why you need me.” He says obviously getting annoyed.

“It's simple, I want- no I need a man who will use suck ‘dirty’ tactics when defending my niece. If I was to help you, you will defend the youngest, the Realms Darling they call her.”  

“Why her and not the eldest?” He asks confused.

“Rhaenyra has at least three guards at her demand, none are truly hers but they may as well be. The youngest…well she has only had the spares or the ones I give to her. I wish for her to have one I know I can trust. One that will give me the information I desire, when I desire it.” 

He seems to contemplate his options, though before he even says it, I know what he'll do.

“I'll do it.” 

I can't fight the smirk that comes to my face as I shake his hand, a symbol of a good deal. 

Once he's out of my sight I look down at the gold cloak against my back.

Fuck I could use a drink and a whore. I think before walking towards the most depraved parts of the city looking for a night to forget all I've lost, if only for one night.

Viserys Pov

After that ‘talk’ with my small council and the very long day I've had I knew when my head hit my pillow I'd be asleep. 

All I saw for a while was darkness, I figured it was because I was still awake but then I saw a light far away and knew what was going on.

Not this blasted dream again! I thought as I stormed forward knowing what I'd find.

The throne room was dark, not a candle lit on the walls, but there was fourteen candles lit in front of the iron throne. They always seemed to dance, I swore if I moved closer I would hear the sounds of childlike giggles. Most are on their own, standing on their own candle sticks, but three have two prongs with two candles on the stand. 

It's all the same, even those damned faces are still blurry! I think ready to turn around until I hear the booming voice of my Grandsire.

“You will stay, boy!” I feel my bones rattle just from the sheer force my Grandsire has spoken to me.

I now don't feel like a King, I feel like a little boy again being scolded for trying to steal a sweet…again.

“Why do you bring me here Grandsire? You have made me come to this room with its candles every night ever since my dear wife has passed! Well before that I was having this dream once a moon!” I cried out looking up and around me searching for my Grandsire.

“It is not our fault you are not Brave son. That you will not face what you already know.” I then hear my Father, the one man I always wished I could be, but Daemon has always been more like him than I'll ever be.

“What is there to see? Fourteen candles, two blurry faces on the throne? I've seen it! I understand I must have a son to put on the throne!” I sob out feeling their disappointment, their regret, knowing I'm far from the monarch they wished from me.

“Have you thought that perhaps if you moved closer the faces would be clear? Or are you that daft Viserys?” I hear their voice now combine, hear my fathers furious tone mixed with my Grandsires disappointment.

I shake my head but still listen to their advice. As I move forward I begin to hear the sounds of a woman giggling at something a man had said. Another step, and I can make out the woman's curls and theans long straight hair. One more and I see a gorgeous woman on my brother's lap, though it is not him that wears my crown but her.

The two of them stop their chatter, my brother is the first to turn to look at me.

“How lovely for you to finally join us dear brother, I was beginning to wonder if you ever would.” I teases with that smirk of hos that always make me want to punch him right in the lip. 

That'll show him who's older still. I think with a smile before I leaves me and a pained gasp leaves me.

The woman has turned her head to look at me, I would have never recognized her if it weren't for those eyes. One of Lavender and one of Ice Blue, the ones I can not look at, the ones who only bring me pain.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” You say but it is not your little voice, it is a woman's voice.

I wake with a gasp before turning and letting my dinner meet my chambers floor.

“You know what you must do, Father. You always have.” Those words keep running through my head as I try to catch my breath.

I have, haven't I?

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header for this fic, I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl @sachaa-ff

[ashblooddragons]

As The World Caves In

Request made by @valuemyheart1

Word Count: 1742

Summary: it's been three weeks since you lost your son to Blood and Cheese. and yet your breast will not dry, they become painful, and Aemond is all to happy to help relive that pain. (also Aemond was not with Syliv he was busy talking to some unnamed lord)

Warnings: memories of B&C, grief, P in V sex, breast worship, lactation kink, still new to smut so please be kind!

I can feel the weight of my breasts, feel how they are filled with milk for babe, it's painful and I should relive it, but there is no babe to feed to take this pain away. I've been fighting the memories, fighting the image of my little boy, my little Aenar.

Oh my sweet little Aenar, he was only five moons old when those monsters came in and took him from me. All for that little Strong boy. 

They were supposed to kill my loving Husband, my dear brother, Aemond. They might have if he wasn't speaking to some Lord that was in need of ‘dire advice from the prince’ I scoff at the thought. He was in dire need of my husband? Him? As I had to stand with a dagger to my throat as that blast cheese cut my son's head off? He needed my husband more? 

No, and there is a reason that the Lord is now being sharply questioned in the black cells. 

I can still see Aemond's face when he saw what they did to our little boy. He must have heard my screams after they sliced Aenar's little head off. He looked like he was going to be sick.

I hear something behind me, like stones scraping against stone. When I turn around to see what is wrong I see two men with knifes grinning at me, one rushes forward when he sees I'm about to scream. 

“You can scream lass, but if you do I'll kill ya. Do ya understand?” He asks, gliding the dull edge off his knife down the side of my face. 

All I can do is nod and pray that all they want is my jewelry. 

My nod seems to satisfy them as the bulky one lifts his hand from my mouth moving to reach for Aenar.

I gasp and step back holding Aenar closer to my chest cooing to him when he starts to cry. 

“What do you want? My jewels, you can have them just don't just my baby boy.” I plead helplessly. I gasp when the scrawny one rips the gold and ruby necklace from my throat.

“We were sent by the Queen, the true Queen. She wants payment for her son, and we were sent to make sure the deal was done.” The scrawny one says twirling his blade in his hands as he grins at me menacingly. 

For some reason this one scares me more than the goliath. 

“What does she want? What has my sister, the ‘true Queen’ , asked of you?” I ask feeling the pit in my belly grow, I have a sick feeling my jewelry is not what they are after. 

“A son for a son.” The goliath says pointing to Aenar who is still crying. 

I can feel his little tears soak into my silk robe, feel his little heart pumping in. I feel my throat constrict in dear, feel the bile rise in my throat. Black dots flood my vision as panic takes over.

“Give a price, want double the amount done. Just don't hurt my little boy. He's only five moons, please.” I beg but from the menacing smirk on the scrawny one, and the look of mock sympathy on the goliath I know they will kill my boy.

I tried to run but the Goliath grabbed me around the waist and held my head in place. “Told to take you to watch lass.” 

I watch as the scrawny one lays little Aenar on his changing table, raise his blade and strike down. It was a clean cut at least, as it only took that one swing for my little boy's head to fall off the table and  roll across the floor only to stop at my feet. 

I don't hear them leave, I don't hear the guards run in, I don't hear Aemond calling my name. I only heard screams and the blood rushing to my ears. When I turn I see nothing but Aemond, the way he can't decide where to look, our little boy or me. I watch as the blood drains from his face and his skin turns green. 

I don't know what to say besides one word. One word is all I need to say for Aemond to know who to kill for this crime against us.

“Rhaenyra.”

I'm cut out of my thoughts by the feeling of a hand on my shoulder. I whip around ready to attack only to find not a goliath nor a scrawny man, but my wonderful husband, my dear brother, I find Aemond.

“Sorry, I asked if you were alright?” He says with that tone that tells me he knows I wasn't here.

I about laugh at the question, how am I supposed to be alright? How am I supposed to ever be alright after what I went through? But instead of bringing up that night I decide to go a different route.

“My breasts hurt, the Maesters say I just have to wait for them to dry up, but they won’t. It hurts Aemond, it hurts.” I say flinching when I touch my tender and swollen breasts. It has only been three weeks since we lost our boy, and I haven't let a drop leave me. 

I watch his pupil dilate and hear him take in bated breaths. I know that look well, he's always adored my breasts but once I came with child and they grew, and once Aenar was born he seemed enthralled with the sight of our son suckling at my breast, one of the reasons I continued even though it is frowned upon for a Princess to feed her own child. 

“I could help,” he says breathlessly, making me confused how he could help me. “I could– I could relive that pain for you.”

“H–how?”

I feel his bated breath against my lips, feel the hardness of him against my hip. Try as I might I can't fight the desire that courses through veins, nor the wetness between my thighs. 

I watch as he moves so he is now hovering over me before he kisses my lips like a man starved. It has been so long since I felt desire, felt this need. I think as I move my hips so my core can meet his length. Though we're both still clothed, the friction is enough to make me breathless.

I gasp when he sits back on his haunches and lifts me so I'm on his lap. “Time to take that Nightgown off, Darling.” He says already raising it and I'm all too happy to help.

“Fuck.” I hear him whisper as he takes in the swell of my breasts, the rich pink of my nipples and the veins that have risen from prolonged fullness.

“Gods I've missed these.” He says kissing along the tender skin making me whimper in almost pain.

“They've missed you, my love.” I say smiling when I hear the guttural growl that leaves him.

Before I know it I'm laid on my back my Husband resting his hips against mine and my peaked nipple in his mouth. I feel each draw he takes, it's a strange relief, for the desire it brings to my core is undeniable, but so is the relief of that painful fullness and stretch. 

“Aemond.” I sigh out rocking my hips against his, I need more, I need him. 

“Fuck, if you keep doing that I won't be able to hold back.” He growls out gripping my hip and kicking up the milk that has dripped down my right breast. 

“Then don't.” I say gripping his hair and forcing him to look at me.

He may hate his eye, but I find there's something ethereal about his scar and sapphire. And even if it is the last words I say, the last thing I think before my last breath I will have him know I adore every part of him, even the scars and darkness. 

I feel him untying his trousers as he continues to suck and lick at my right breast. I feel each draw of milk leave me, hear the groan of pleasure he lets loose at each taste.

I feel the leaking head of his cock against my core, feel him hesitate from gliding into me.

“Please.” Is all I need to say before he drives into me with a punishing force. 

I can hardly catch my breath as he starts bullying my cunt with sharp hard thrusts as he moves over to my left breast. All I can think of is him, no more pain, no more grief, only Aemond and the pleasure he gives me. 

With each thrust and each drag from me teat I see stars, he has always known my body better than I ever could. He could always pick up the slightest frown or smile, and now he is seeing how he drives me mad with desire, how he takes my breath away. 

“You were made for me, from your nature to this sweet little cunt that grips my cock like a vice. There is no man, or god that will ever take you from me. Do you hear me?” He says emphasizing each word with a sharp thrust to the spot he knows makes me see stars.

“I was made for you, my love, only you, always you!” I scream out feeling my peak upon the precipice. 

With one more hard thrust, I’m screaming his name as I grip his long silky hair like a lifeline. My eyes go black from the force of my peak, and I can only barely hear him let ut a groan of pleasure before he spills in me, for all I can hear clearly is the beat of my heart. 

We lay like this for a while, his hands gripping my hips, my legs around his waist, and my fingers in his hair, and him buried deep within my core his cock acting as a stopper so his seed does not leak out of me.

We don’t say anything, for we do not need to, we know this was only a moment of release, of bliss, and that within time we will hold each other close, me sobbing into his chest and him letting silent tears fall into my hair. But we will have each other and that is all we will ever truly need.

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 7/?)

112 ac

Alicents pov

I sit next to Myrielle in the royal box waiting for the tourney to start and for Rhaenyra to show. I have no idea how she gets away with all she does, if I did even half the things she’s done today I would be forced to be a Septa by my Father, only love and lust for the gods.

I sigh and look over at you and your friends smiling as you excitedly show them your new necklace, you had shown me it soon after so excited and only wanting to show me your new gift.

“Ali! Look! Look! Kepus gave this to me, don’t you think it’s pretty? Oh, I love it so much!” You say and I can’t help but notice you have seemingly had your hair fixed into a proper style. I’ve been needing to fix that, wonder who did. I think to myself. 

“Ah, let me see.” I say kneeling down so I can face you properly as I lift the garnet pendant watching as the rich red of the stone catches the light making it even more beautiful. “Lovely, a beautiful gift for a beautiful girl.” I say smiling when you beam with joy at the compliment.

“Mam– Ali do you have any jewelry that your family gave you that was a ancestirs?” You ask curiously as you play with the sapphire necklace around my neck. Your correction isn’t lost on me but I let you think I missed you almost calling me Mama.

It is moments like this one, where I know I am not alone in the feeling that I am your Mother. I may not have birthed you, nor carried you in my womb but you are my little girl.

“Ancestors,” I correct gently before I touch the necklace on my neck. “And yes, this used to be my Mother’s before she passed. I have many other necklaces, rings, bracelets, and earrings, that used to be hers.”

I know the moment you catch that my Mother is dead, I hae never told you nor have you most likely ever heard this fact so the tears that come to your eyes are not surprising. 

“Your Mama is dead? Is there any way to bring her back, so you can have her again?” You ask seemingly trying to find any way to take my pain away from her passing which seems to bring your young mind to necromancy. 

I can’t help but giggle at your young and innocent idea. “No, and besides she is in a better place, she is happy with the Stranger now, walking through fields of lilies and havig the sun kiss her skin at all times of day.”  I saw with a mournful smile. 

“Is the Stranger kind?” You ask wiping away your tears with the back of your dress sleeve. 

“Very kind.” I say before teaching you more about the seven and what each one is for and why they are important.

I’m snapped out of my thoughts when I hear the King start his speech before the tourney starts. “Be welcome! I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games. But I promise, you will not be disappointed–”

The King pauses when Rhaenyra tries to sneak in and take her seat. I suppress a scoff when she sits down smirking thinking she got away with something again, and to be fair she probably did with how the King bends to her will.

“When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news that I am happy to share, the Queen Aemma has begun her labors!” 

With that announcement the crowd erupts into applause and cheers, small folk and noble alike rejoicing at the future heir to be born. I turn to look at you and see you nervously biting ad chewing on you lower lip it is already getting bloody and chapped. I at times worry if my nervous habit with m fingers has led you to do the same only with your lips. I reach over to hold your hand comforting you the only way I can. you may not say it or show it, nor understand it, but I can tell you worry for the Queen and your future sibling.

“May the luck of the Seven shine on all combatants!” The King says finally finishing his speech witha sigh and sitting on his mock throne. 

I turn to look at you after you tugged on the sleeve of my dress. “Yes, darling?” 

“Where’s Kepus? He said he was going to be in the games, but I haven’t seen him yet.” You are confused as you search for your dear uncle, or should I say Kepus. 

“He will be out soon, but first we have to watch Ser Cole and Ser Aldwin Sarwyck joust.” I say gently smiling when you nod, you don’t seem to like this information but you also seem to understand.

You’ve never cared much for tourneys, finding them too long and too boring. And I can’t blame you, as soon as it gets entertaining it is determined you must not see such violence at your young age. So when Ser Cole unmounts Ser Aldwin you don't clap nor cheer as loud as the rest, only clapping as you know you must.

“Princess Rhaenys Targaryen! I would humbly ask for the favor of ‘The Queen Who Never Was’.” Lord Boremund Baratheon declares holding his jousting stick up to the balcony.

You can hear the chatter of the courtiers gossiping. Do they ever stop? Probably not. I think to myself scowling when I see one of them point to you and your friends giggling over lemon cakes and tea.

“Good fortune to you, cousin.” Princess Rhaenys says obviously not happy with he cousins behavior but putting on a good face.

The less things for this court of vipers to gossip about you, the better. Or that is at least what my father loves to tell me when I even think of running through teh halls. 

“I would gladly take it if I thought I needed it.” He says pompously like any true Baratheon would. 

I hear a pained gasp beside me and turn to see Myrielle looking up at her brother and the lady Cerelle Celtigar seeming to be holding hands and talking. I had heard they are now bethrothed and getting ready to marry in three moons. Such a quick wedding has raised eyebrows as to why they are wedding so quickly, I have yet to hear one that makes sense. 

“Are you alright, Myrielle?” I ask worried as to what has he nearly in tears. 

“Yes, yes, sorry I must have gotten something in my eyes.” She says clearly lying but I pretend to believe her for her sake. That is until I hear Rhaenyra scoff.

“Is that what is’s called when you almost lay with your brother? You know it’s wrong right, to want to fuck your brother or family? That is at least what the rumors say.” She says crudely. 

I turn back and see tears rolling down Myrielles cheeks, whether that be because of shame or rage I can not tell. I can’t believe Rhaenyra’s hypocrisy, she has always found the conquers marriage as beautiful, and yet she sits there berating a girl over a rumor? It must be this that pushes me to speak up, to try and take Rhaenyra down a peg. 

“As if you Targaryens have any room to talk. Were the conquers not brother and sisters, or had I read the history books wrong?” I ask with a smirk knowing I’ve backed her into a corner.

I can see Rhaenyra is ready to lash back when the King clears his throat and when we turn to look at him, he’s glaring at Rhaneyra making her slump back into her chair with a scowl upon her face.

I turn back to Myrielle who is smiling thankfully. “I do not know if this is true, but as far as I’m concerned it is only a rumor about the new lady of court.” I say squeezing her hand reasuringly, before turning back to watch as the Rouge Prince comes riding into the jousting ring. 

I can’t help but smile when you perk up at the sight of him, for if he can bring that smile of pure joy to your little face can he truly be that bad? 

I was so distracted by your excited chatter that you had finally been allowed to make a favor for a knight that I missed the way Myrielle and my eldest brother, Lorent, were staring at each other. If I had I would have noticed the blush on Myrielles face and the look of lust in my brother’s eyes.

“Who do you think he’ll pick?” You ask as you watch Prince Daemon moving his horse up and down the line of knights to choose from. When I see my brother Gwayne I get a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach put push it down and smile down at you,

“I have no idea, though they musat be a extraordinary knight to be choices for the Prin–.” I say only to stop when I see he picked the one person I hoped and silently prayed he wouldn’t, Gwyane.

“Who’s the one with the tower helmet?” You ask curiously as you lean into me on the seate we are sitting on.

You do this often, looking for my touch and comfort, besides the Prince I am the person you seek out the most.

“My brother.” I say fighting the urge to bite and pick at my cuticles. It is not for my sake but for yours for I will not let you gain such a harming habit because of me, because of my anixites. So I will push them down for your sake. 

“He must be a very good knight for Kepus to pick him.” You say in wonder. 

Or the son of the Prince’s greatest enemy. I think coldly.

I hold my breath as I watch the joust, my brother seems to have almost knocked the Prince off his horse. But on the next joust, the Prince leans his jousting stick downward so it trips the horse making the horse and my brother flip through the air landing with a resounding crash that makes everyone gasp. But I do not get much time to recoup until the Prince is in front of the balcony smirking up at us, or should I say, my father.

“Nicely done uncle.” Rhaenyra says with a smirk batting her eyes ar him. I have to fight the urge to slap her as she seems to forger my brother was just carried out of the tourney ring. 

“Thank you, Rhaenyra, now I am fairly certain I can win these games but what isn’t a little extra luck from the most beautiful maiden here?” He says smiling when you walk up with your friends smiling and waving at him.

“It would be my honor Uncle.” Rhaenyra says breathlessly getting ready to grab her favor when the Prince stops her.

“Not you, I meant the Realms Darling over here.” He says pointing his jousting stick towards you.

The look of pure joy crossing your face mixed with Rhaenyra’s look of betrayal and embarrassment almost made my brothers injury worth it, almost.

You run over to grab your favor only to run back and almost tripping and falling from your excitement, it’s a good thing I caught you or else you may have fallen off the balcony. 

“I made it myself!” You say excitedly as you reach over just barely able to reach before letting your wreath slide down.

“It is a lovely favor, it is sure to make me win.” He says making you giggle as he rides off.

“He’ll win with my favor right?” You ask as you hold my hand as we walk back to our seat.

“If he does not then he must have terrible luck because you are the luckiest girl in the world.” I say tickling your sides making you giggle uncontrollably. 

As the match goes on we don’t notice how slowly but surely the crowd seems to becomes mournful. It is only after your uncle lost his bout and whispered something to Ser Cole that we finally hear the news.

“Ali, please say it’s not true.” You plead tears rolling down your little face. 

When I can’t find a response you burst into tears and sob into my chest as I hold you close praying I could take all your pain and put it onto myself. But there is no gods, or magic that would let me so I sit there holding you and carrying you to your chambers as you cry your little heart out as any little girl should after losing their mother.

This is the necklace I see that Alicent was wearing, the one made of Sapphires from her mom.

Special thanks to my bestie @sugutoad for making the header for this fic! I swear I be lost without you Girly!

Also Nymeria and Myrielle are my besties @sugutoad ocs so give her the love for these magical and beautiful characters!!

Taglist: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @baybaybear1 @sachaa-ff

[ashblooddragons]

You Broke Me First

A oneshot for my beloved @sugutoad for Aegon and her oc Myrielle.

word count: 2028

Warnings: mention of miscarriage, grief, smut, p in v smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), nipple play, lactation kink, Aegon is just trying to fuck his girls pain away, tell me if I missed something, yet again still new to writing smut so take that as you will.

Summary: it's been three moons since they lost Baelon, since Myrielle had her miscarriage. three moons of tears, screaming and wishing for nothing more than to feel the comfort of each others bodies, and now they finally can.

I sit on a plush green velvet armchair staring into the flames that flicker and swirl within the fireplace. I feel grief, but the thing I feel the most is rage, rage because of my mother. 

She hated me all these years, even when she passed she couldn’t help but inflict pain upon me. I think with a scowl as I touch the little bump that used to be larger, used to hold a sweet baby boy who should have lived, grown, and ridden a dragon. 

My mind often turns to the frail little babe, my sweet little Baelon, too little and too soon to live. I held for only three days before leaving me and Aegon behind to live with the Stranger instead. 

This pregnancy was already high risk, the Maesters said I should rest and stay in bed but when I heard my mother had passed, the grief was too much and I lost my sweet baby boy. 

I was so deep in thought I hadn’t heard Aegon come into our chambers, hadn’t heard him walk over to me, which is why I about jumped out of my skin when I felt his hand rest against my shoulder giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“The Masters told me you're fully healed?” He says kissing the crown of my head trying to find any way to reach, talk, mourn with me. 

“Yes, they said I am ready to bear children again when you see it fit.” I say reaching for his hand on my shoulder wishing to hold him as well. 

I hear him chuckle and turn to look up at him confused. “I did not ask that because I wished to pump another babe into you, I asked because I wish to make love to you again, when you see it fit of course.” He says with that cocky smirk that always takes my breath away, always leaving me wanting for him. 

But though his smirk makes my heart skip a beat, it is not the reason for the tears that come to my eyes and roll down my cheeks. It is his words the way he wants me, for me, the way he wishes to lay with me for the pleasure of it, not the want for a child, it’s the want for me. 

There are days I wonder how I could ever be so lucky to have him, a man who loves me unconditionally. And with that thought, I turn and look up at him and say. “And what if I see it fit now?” 

He only smiles wider before slamming his lips to mine, the ferocity of it making me gasp giving him room to delve his tongue into my mouth. I must fight to not rub my thighs together so he doesn’t have the satisfaction of knowing that only a kiss by him drives me mad with need. 

The feel of his tongue gliding along mine is intoxicating and when he nips at my lower lip I can’t fight the helpless moan that leaves.

“Gods I’ve waited two whole moons to hear those lovely songs again little bird, please keep singing for me. Let me hear you sing for me again.” He groans out as he breaks the kiss to stand in front of me looking down at me with a wolfish grin as if I’m merely a sheep for him to feast upon. 

The way his eyes wrack down my body brings a shiver to my spine and takes my breath away, I know I am wearing a nightgown and that he has seen all of me on multiple occasions but how it leaves me feeling like prey, like the most beautiful woman in the world has and always will make me dizzy with desire. 

“As much as I wish to feel that tight little cunt of yours grip my cock, I have been having dreams of tasting that cunt again so if you don’t mind.” He says as he gets onto his knees in front of me lifting my nightgown so he can see my plush thighs. 

I can’t help but smile as he kisses his way up my leg until he reaches my dripping core. He grabs my hips and pulls me towards the edge of the seat so he can reach me better.

“Fuck, your already dripping little bird, is this all for me?” He asks as he circles my little bundle of nerves knowing it drives me mad with need.

All I can do is nod in response.

“Well, what kind of man would I be not to enjoy this wonderful treat?”

He doesn’t give me a moment to respond before I feel the flat of his tongue against my core making me whimper with need. When he tastes the sweet tangy flavor of me he lets out a deep throaty groan gripping the flesh of my thighs most definestly leaving bruises that I will admire later. 

The feel of his tongue against me, his lips sucking at my pearl has my mind sprialing and the only thoughts in my head are Aegon, Aegon, Aegon. But when I feel his fingers sink into me the most obscene moans leave me, I just know our guards have either left or are very uncomfortable as there is no way they have not heard the moans leaving me nor the growls and groans that have left Aegon.

As If they hear my thoughts I hear a guard clear his throat and hear the sounds of his armored boots trailing away. But strangely I don’t seem to care, not when Aegon curls his fingers just right that I see stars only to then nip at my bud sending me over the edge to one of the strongest and quickest orgasm of my life. 

Once my peak has finally subsided does Aegon finally relieve my sex from his onslaught of pleasure. 

“Seven hells, little bird, how the fuck did I last this long without your songs?”

I can’t stop the giggle that erupts out of me at his words, for it is not that it is funny but that he is dead serious and seems to be contemplating his life choices for the last three moons as he’s waited for me to heal.

But just as the giggle rises out of me it stops at the look of complete awe on his face. “Don’t stop little bird, I’e missed that laugh much more than I’ve missed this cunt. That laugh has saved me more times than I can count or you want to know.” He says as he rubs circles into the skin off my thighs.

“Stop, you will make me blush.” I say but there is no bite behind it as we both know I’ve missed laughing just as much as he’s missed hearing it. 

“Hmm, is you blushing truly supposed to stop me? Because as far as I’m aware of it only makes a man lik myself wish to tease a woman like you more.” He says as he stands unbuttoning his jerkin and sliping it off letting it fall to the floor before reach for his undershirt pulling it oer his head in quick succession.

“Then give me something to laugh about.” I say breathlessly as I watch his hands go to the cords of his trousers. 

He only hums letting out a deep chuckle from the back of his throat. “You don’t seem to be in the laughing mood anymore, little bird, and neither am I.” He says as he lets his trousers fall to the ground stepping out of them only to pik me up and sit in the armchair instead of going to out marital bed. 

Something i’ve learned about Aegon in our years of marriage is this, he will take me whenever, wherever, and however he sees fit ‘court be damned of I want my pretty wife I’ll have my pretty wife.’ as he loves to say. So you can guess there have been a great many nights where he has taken me in this chair in this very position of me stradling him as he grips my hips hammering up into me. 

I feel him slowly lift my nightgown up my body until it is over my head and he throw it somewhere off to the side of our chambers. I feel the chill wind move past my skin sending shivers down my spine and hardening my nipples to hard peaks. 

“Gods your perfect.” He groans out as eh rakes his eyes up and down my body only stopping to watch as he rolls my hard peaks between his thumb and forefinger making me whimper as my legs shake with need. 

I feel something warm roll down my chest and look down to see Aegon has made my mothers milk leak out, when I go to apologize he hushes me and licks it up as he positions himself at my wet, warm entrance. 

When he sinks me down we both let out a groan of relief, him for ‘being home’ as he likes to say call it and me because I’ve missed this, feeling him stretch me so perfectly just on the edge of pain that it makes my eyes roll into the bac of my head. There is no better pleasure than feeling Aegon pulse and thrum inside me, for I know he is mine, that I am the one who makes him feel safe and at home.

He continues to suck and lap at my hard peaks knowing they have been hurting and uncomfortable as they have yet to dry up, only being a reminder of what we’ve lost, but in this moment it only makes me moan out his name as if it is the only think I know or wish to say. 

I about scream when he finally starts to thrust into me but it got caught in my throat by the sob pleasure instead. He hammers into me gripping my hips so tightly it burns just right. 

“Fuck, little bird, I’m gonna stay burid inyou until we have our Baelon again. I’m gonna chain you to that bed over there once I’m done with you here so there will be no escape from my seed inside you. You’ll be full with my child again soon enough.” He growls out as he hit the spoke he knows makes me see stars each time. 

“I–I want that! I want your babe in me again, I want to feel your seed in me all the time!” I moan scream out just as I cum on his cock choking on a sob of pleaure as my eyes roll back into my head.

“Fuck!” He moans out as he pills his sead into me thrusting once and twice more riding out his peak with a groan and a look of pure bliss. 

We sit there catching our breath for a bit, me still straddling him with his now soft cock inside me and him sitting in the chair rubbing my back and kissing the crown of my head. But instead of bliss and happiness I feel tuemoile and sick to my stomach.

As if sensing this Aegon taps my nose and says “What is on your beautiful mind, little bird?” 

And liek always I can not resist a request nor demand made by him. “Is it wrong? Is it wrong I wish for your seed to take again and for it to be a little boy? For me to have our little Baelon back in my arms?” I ask tears rolling down my face from the guilt and shame of this want, this dream.

“No, but if anyone says it is, I’m sure there is a spike or two for them and their family.” Aegon responds with a cocky smirk and jesting raise of his brows. 

It makes em giggle again, making him smile. When we look at each other again I can see we both still hurt, may always will, but if we have each other we can make it, the grief won’t drown us and we can make it to the shore together.

@sugutoad @ilikefelines @baybaybear1 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @sachaa-ff @mmogurl

[ashblooddragons]

Requests are open!

i have a couple rules with my requests.

1 the characters, I'll write for, Maegor, Daemon, Aemond, Aegon, Cregan, and Gwyane, I'm also open to Otto but I'd need to be very inspired. I don't write for the female characters as I find it a bit harder to do (even though I'm bi female leaning) and I won't do it for Jace, Baela, and definitely not Luc as I don't like writing for them as I find them too young and it's hard for me to age them up for some reason.

2 if it's a oc give me a name and their house, please give their personalty as well so I can try my best. if you don't say its a oc I'll make it a reader fic where they are aart of a house of my choosing if you don't specify.

3 please give what you want. I've gotten anon requests like "Daemon x sister reader please" or "Aemond x Strong niece reader after the dinner" that doesn't give me much to work with if anything so tell me. if its smut give me the kinks you want, ie, breeding, soft love making, riding, semi public sexs. this helps me make it as close to what you want.

4 I will not write about rape especially the act of it. I will not allow racism or sexism.

5 if I don't like the request I can delete it, just because you asked does not mean I will make it. If you think your request will make me uncomfortable don't use the Anon so get can message you and we can figure out a way for me to make it so were both happy and both feel comfortable

6 I will make them at my own pace. as my bio says I'm dyslexic so I will take time to write especially since I'm now working on 3 fics.

7 do not dm me asking for a fic! it will only lead to you being blocked.

and finally be kind, I'll get to them when I get to them but as I'm now working on 3 fics it will take at least 2 weeks to make and that's if its short.

[ashblooddragons]

I'm Feeling Better!

alright I know only a couple days ago I said I was sick, and I was. I was visiting family in Illinois, I'm from Texas, and where I'm at there is no pollen and no humidity so I always feel like a pile of shit when I get up there. plus I have many health issues so thankfully I don't ever have to stay long.

needless to say, I'm feeling much better and can actually write without sneezing which is a big plus.

today I will post a oneshot request, and by Wednesday I'll have the next chapter of The Red Queen out, and by Friday chapter one of My Heart, My Ruin. and then I'll start working on another fic (the Daemon x Alicent one) and I'll then in form you all of my new planned schedule (hopefully this works and all makes sense lol)

[ashblooddragons]

I'm sick.

So this post is pretty straight to the point. I've caught some sort of bug and am now feeling like complete shit! I'm mostly making this post in case nothing gets out for a bit. I am writing still though so hopefully things still come out in a timely manner but I'm not able to sustain the energy to write so I'm mostly writing for around 30 minutes and then want to die and take a nap.

I've mostly been chilling and reading, a lot just trying not to over exert myself too much. I'm so sorry, I was actually on a role, I am halfway through another oneshot request and I've started Chapter one of My Heart, My Ruin and started the prolouge to This Mysterious Love haven't touched The Red Queen but I will once I finish this One shot request. So I'm a bit pissed at my body for fighting against my creativity.

This was mostly a rant post, if you made it this far I give you this cookie🍪. And here's to hoping shit still gets writen!

[sugutoad]

MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE

Chapter 1 — The New Season

so @coffeebooksrain18 and I were talking about a Bridgerton Au once with our ocs, and this idea came to be! This is a little surprise for my Riley, who is so amazing and I could have not done any thing without her (please please go check out her fanfic, ‘The Red Queen’ if you want good Daemon food on her other account, @ashblooddragons) Also Aelys is her oc!

Sypnosis: 𝐀𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is set to begin her debut into the society. Born between the loving reunion of Daemon Targaryen and Rhaella Targaryen, she is offered the world on a silver platter. But she does not want it. 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 is the second son of Dukes Viserys Targaryen. He has no land to inherit and no riches. But, he has one thing that is his - Aelys Targaryen. When Aelys is told that Rhaenyra is heir to the Targaryen fortune, she knows she must find a way to stop it. Sure, she doesn't believe that Aegon should be named Duke, but he is better than her aunt. That is until she looks at Aemond and a new plan emerges. 𝐌𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢 is a legitimized bastard, but still a child born of an unholy reunion between the Pope and the Lady Alaria Dayne . Ever since childhood, she has known herself as lesser than everyone else. When expected to join society, she expects herself to be a spinster for there were not many who would want someone like her in the comforts of their home. 𝐀𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧 does not believe the inheritance of House Targaryen belongs to him. When his father newly changed the inheritance to fall in his hand upon his death bed, rather than his older sister, his world flips. This is what his Mother always wanted, not him. Aegon only knows of one thing that he wants, but she seems to be a distant dream who Aegon can only graze with the tips of his fingers. Aegon Targaryen only wants one thing for himself, Myrielle Vallici.

  The sun peeked through the rustle of leaves, but Aelys felt not the sun on her pale skin (she partially blamed it on the parasol her mother insisted on taking with her to avoid upsetting the ever-judging Lady Alaria Vallici.), but a gentle breeze that whispered through the air, softly caressing her cheeks like a lover’s touch. Aelys tightened her grip around the slender arm of Myrielle Vallici, though her red-headed friend hardly seemed to notice the pressure. A joyful giggle bubbled from behind her, drawing Aelys’ gaze back to her mother

  Mother’s arms were hooked with that of Alaria Vallici, Myrielle’s Mother, her face adorned with a smile so bright it could rival the sun itself as Father would say. She leaned in closer to Lady Alaria, the pale blonde ringlets of her hair brushing lightly against the noblewoman’s cheek as she chuckled about something. Lady Alaria stood as rigid and upright, her head tilted upwards as any noble woman should (A giggle blossomed in her heart, but Aelys bit her lips to prevent any sort of problems. Alaria Vallici wasn’t even a proper noble; she was merely a mistress, yet she carried herself as if she were superior to them all. Aelys kept the laughter in, she did not want to upset her friend for laughing at her mother). Oh, how different their mothers were!

  Lady Alaria mustered a small smile, although Aelys assumed it was a smile to seem polite rather than true amusement at whatever her Mother so eagerly told her. It truly ticked Aelys off, her nose unknowingly scrunching and her eyebrows furrowed above pale lilac eyes.

  “You must not do that, Aelys,” Myrielle frowned at her. “The season is starting shortly, and I cannot have you appear in front of everybody with a wrinkled face.”

  Aelys rolled her eyes at her fussing, her eyes wandering off. She simply couldn’t muster the same concern that Myrielle did. It would be Aelys who would be the newest gem of this season, not Myrielle. Her friend had already began her season last year when Edwina Sharma had been declared Diamond of the Season. Aelys simply assumed Myrielle feared of being a spinster as her heart was not so different from other noble women. 

  But Aelys was a Targaryen. And although she was a daughter of a second son, the world and all its riches were offered to her on a silver platter since she had been born, simply waiting for her to claim them as hers. Aelys truly believed that it should have been her father, Daemon Targaryen, who should rightfully bear the title of Duke Targaryen — not ViserysTargaryen and certainly not his drunkard son and heir, Aegon Targaryen.

 “Aelys, dear!” Her sudden thoughts of her lesser family and their possible demise (though she had to admit, some of them, particularly Aemond Targaryen, held a special place in her heart) were interrupted by her Mother’s voice. Aelys swiveled around to face her, spotting her Mother setting down a sheet for the four of them to rest upon.

 “We are coming, my Lady.” Myrielle piped up, pulling Aelys with her. Aelys silently swore to herself as the blades of grass kissed the hem of her dress. She had worn a pale blue dress and for all she knew, it would now resemble the blue Himalayan poppies decorating her room. 

 Ruffling her dress in annoyance, Aelys sat beside Myrielle. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Myrielle nervously fidgeting with her fingers, stealing glances at the pastries laid out before them while glancing uneasily at her mother.  Aelys let out a frustrated sigh, before bending over and grabbing the strawberry tart placed in front of  Lady Alaria.

 With the tart now in hand, Aelys’ eyes betrayed her as they flicked upward. Lady Alaria was clearly striving to suppress a glare. Violet eyes glanced down once at her before a sigh escaped her and she looked away. Aelys smiled at herself, plopping back and trying to not gorge down pastry in mere seconds. Aelys, after all, did have some manners, she was a high born lady and a pretty one at that. After all, she was a highborn lady, and it would be a waste to mar her pretty face with sticky strawberry sauce

Once noticing Aelys’ action, Myrielle grabbed the blueberries laid in front of her. Myrielle did not even like blueberries! Snapping the sticky goodness in her own hand, she handed one half to Myrielle. “Thank you, Aelys,” Myrielle replied with her usual politeness, but she shook her head, refusing the tart. “I am.. I am not hungry.”

 Aelys’ smile faltered. Who would ever refuse a strawberry tart? “Myrielle needs to be in shape for this season. We can not have her left without a suitor again.” said Lady Alaria and Aelys got her answer. Mother bit her own lip, not entirely knowing what to say. Aelys snapped her head toward her, her eyes wide as she let out a breathy chuckle. “Perhaps the girls would be better off on a stroll?” Mother intervened, placing a gloved hand on Lady Alaria’s shoulder

“Without a chaperone?” Lady Alaria countered. 

 “Do not fret, Mother. We shall stay near.” Myrielle spoke up, her throat bulging as she swallowed hard. Never had Aelys wanted to hit an older women, but this truly was tempting her. Lady Alaria let out huff, her head motioning for the girls to leave. What sort of Mother would ever think such things of her daughter? Aelys silently prayed—Myrielle’s habits were beginning to wear off on her—and thanked God for her own gentle mother, who would sit with Aelys while she cried over a tear in her dress and later buy her a prettier one. Myrielle, of all people, deserved a mother with a soul as gentle as her own.

 The two silently walked and Aelys had a sudden urge to straighten her back as Myrielle had. Although the two girls had attended the same etiquette classes — that is where they had met afterall — Aelys did pay much attention nor care for the lessons. She already knew this all, why should she learn it again? Perhaps this is why her and Myrielle had not quite been friends back then as Myrielle preferred the company of Daphne Bridgerton over her own. 

“It would not be so bad,” Myrielle shattered the silence and Aelys could only look at her in confusion. Upon noticing her face, Myrielle let out a laugh. “I mean, it would not be so bad if I were to be a spinster. My brother would support me. And…” 

 Myrielle turned to her, grasping onto Aelys hands and pulling them near her. “And perhaps, we both can be spinsters!” She began giggling and Aelys could not, but joined in. The two girls giggled and giggled over such a ridiculous idea. But deep down, Aelys wondered if perhaps it wasn’t so absurd after all. A life free from the expectations of a rich lord—who could very well be older than her own father—might be the ideal life. 

Myrielle’s laughter died down, replaced by a wistful smile. “Though my lady mother might poison me if I don’t marry this year. She is still quite upset that I did not marry Anthony Bridgerton.”

 Aelys rolled her eyes at the mention of his name. “He is a douche with the most horrible sideburns. You deserve someone better.” Myrielle smiled at her..

“And you deserve someone as great as you.”

Aelys did not want someone as great as her. She did not want anyone.

She shook her head. “Not a single man in this ton fits my fancy. They are all unsuitable.”

Myrielle raised an eyebrow, her red lipstick smudging slightly at the corners of her lips. “No one? Not even Aemond Targaryen?”

Aelys huffed out a laugh, her hands quickly covering her face. She wanted to rip her eyeballs off, but her nails were done so well today she could not bear to ruin them in crimson. “He is my uncle! My Mother’s own brother!” Aelys hissed. Aemond was handsome. He was brave and intelligent. But he was her uncle from Grandfather Viserys’ second wife, the Lady Alicent Hightower. And Aelys? She was the daughter of Viserys’ second daughter with his first wife and cousin, Lady Aemma Arynn. 

It wasn’t that Aelys cared what others thought; she would damn them all if she could. But she could never disgrace her mother or father like that. So much scandal had already followed when her mother married her own uncle, and Aelys would not allow her gentle mother’s soul to endure such disgrace again.

 It seemed Myrielle quickly took note of her thoughts. She always did. “Of course, Aelys,” she smiled. “He is your uncle, and nothing more.”

 Aelys jabbed a finger in Myrielle’s arm. “You should not be speaking such! Not when Aegon Targaryen exists.” Aelys smiled in triumph as Myrielle cheeks turned into a hue almost identical to the red ruby hanging near her chest by a golden thread — given by Aegon. “There is absolutely nothing concerning him! Of that I can assure, my dear.” 

 Myrielle looked away, doing a poor job of hiding her embarrassment. “Of course, Myrielle,” Aelys mocked. “He is your… What exactly is he even?” Myrielle glanced back at her, her lips quivered upwards. She leaned in close, her lips only a fingertip away from Aelys’ ear.  

“Perhaps, we can marry both brothers and be sisters!”

  Aelys stepped back, a grin plastered on her face. The absurdity of that remark almost made her laugh. 

 “Aelys! Myrielle!” Her mother’s voice echoed from across the bridge, a faint sound that snapped Aelys back to reality. She hadn’t realized how far they had strayed from their mothers. Glancing at Myrielle, Aelys noticed the light in her friend’s eyes dim, a sigh escaping her lips. A part of Aelys felt guilty for some strange reason, not that she even was!

 Aelys locked her fingers with Myrielle. “That would be nice.” Myrielle smiled back at her and the two girls began to head back.

 It truly would be nice. 

[ashblooddragons]

Hoi, just wanted to ask, do you have any social other than Tumblr?

If your asking if I'm on other Fanfic sites yes, I'm on Wattpad under AshBloodDragon, and Ao3 under CoffeeBooksRain.

If your asking about my personal social medias I'm not comfortable giving those out.

[coffeebooksrain18]

This is for my Fanfic The Red Queen, it's a Daemon x Reader fic. These are their kids, yes they have 14 lol. If anyone wants to check it out it's on my fanfic account @ashblooddragons. I made these Moonboards and if anyone is interested I make them for free, check out my pinned post to see my rules.

The Red Queen Kids Moonboards!

Gaemon and Daenys

Aelys

Baelon and Daelor

Aemma

Aelon

Visenya

Maerion

Alysanne