#baela the bold

[the-queen-who-should-have-been]

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Lady Baela Targaryen

[bcldbaela]

Your role in the tragic play.

bold protagonist.

you're the star of the show, baby! and boy does that come with a lot of emotional turmoil. you have a seemingly endless supply of determination. whether you have a lot of goals, or one big one, you're constantly working towards it. you're pretty restless, and struggle with imposter syndrome and generally feeling like you should be doing more. your insecurity might not be immediately obvious to others, however, as you come across as very strong and bold. vulnerability is not your strong suit, and that's likely to be your downfall. if only you had just let people in, and asked for help... well, maybe this was always gonna be a tragedy.

Tagged by: @pulchramsolis

Tagging: whoever is reading this.

[heireign]

TAG DROP. p1.

[myladysapphire]

Two Halves of a whole

Aemond had always understood you in ways others could not, your bond so deep nothing could severe it. A bond so deep that they would do anything to save the other, even if it meant being trapped with the enemy.

based of this request

word count: 6,208

cw: MDI+, 18+, Smut, Angst, fluff, love conffessions, arranged marraige, cheating. (im so sorry Cregan i love you i swear), not proofread!

Aemond Targaryen x twinsister!reader (or Creaganswife!reader)

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: so sorry i haven’t updated in two weeks! ive been in such a writting slump but here is finally some work! <3

Aemond had always understood you in ways now one else had.

Born together, you had never seen the day apart. Your lessons spent together, your rooms shared until you where three and ten.

And even then that did not stop you form spending every moment together.

You were so similar, not only where you twins but it was almost as If you where the same person, two halves of a whole.

You were kind, where he was cruel.

Your were beautiful where he seemed himself ugly, no matter the words you spoke to call him otherwise.

Where he was bold, you where shy.

And where you thrived, he drowned.

But something shifted the day Aemond claimed Vaghar.

You had both been dragon less, teased for it and faced the constant bullying of your older brother and nephews.

you had spent days talking and studying dragons, and where Aemond started to loose hope, and yet you pushed him to believe he could claim a dragon.

And he did, the biggest and most fearsome dragon in the world.

And you were left behind in the process.

That night, no one told you of what had transpired until you were dragged from your bed and greeted with the bleeding face of your twin brother.

Your house divided, and your brother a changed man.

Form that day he became cruel and cunning, hellbent on being the best swordsman. the best dragon rider. Skilled and wise.

And though you where there for it all, helping him and watching. It was all from the sidelines. As if you only mattered when he was involved.

that’s what your family thought anyway.

Until you became of marital age, and your father decided a alliance with the north was necessary.

You had always thought you would marry Aemond, and yet here you where on your way to winterfell about to marry a stranger you had never met.

Your nephew Jace had talked of him often, recounting his days spent in Winterfell. And though he  sounded honourable and kind, you feared what it would be like to be apart fork Aemond, the man who was truly the other half of you.

even after years of drifting apart he was still everything to you.                                                                                                

“are you excited, aunt?” Jace asked, he and the rest of your family where all accompany your north, using the journey as a tour of Westeros.

“As one can be to be marrying a stranger I suppose” you mused, looking out of the window.

Whilst your siblings all rode their dragons around Westeros, you were forced to ride with your nephews and cousins, with dragons too small to withstand the long journeys.

“Cregan stark is a good man, I’m sure you with have a good marriage” Baela spoke, looking up from her book.

You scoffed, “so everyone has met him but me?” you mumbled to yourself, shifting uncomfortably.

“I always thought you would marry Aemond” Rhanea spoke up, she and you had strike a surprising friendship, despite her distaste for Aemond. Your common lack and want for a dragon bonding you both.

“As did I” you spoke longingly, looking up and seeing the shape of Vaghar in the distance.  

The rest of the journey was spent with minimal words spoken, and your eyes never leaving Vaghars form.

Ever since they announced your betrothal Aemond had been distant, still ever present as he was, but distant.

The day he had found out he had stormed out of his rooms and ignored you for the remainder of the day.

And though the day after he had carried out your old routine, it seemed different, strained.

Though Aemond was never a talker, he was never silent around you. If he didn’t respond with words, he responded with actions. Whether it be brushing a piece of hair behind your ear, caressing your hand, or bringing you flowers.

But since then, the casual touches or small gifts of flowers or your favourite snack or bringing you a book he thought you’d enjoy, stopped.

Conversation was strained, always ending on an awkward note, and when you had wished to confront him on it you had found he had gone to the silk of streets with Aegon.

You felt hurt, betrayed almost and yet it was you who was marrying another, leaving him behind, even if you had no choice in the fact.

And the tour had been even worse.

Your days spent in a carriage alongside people you hardly knew, with Jace and Luke the very boys who had once teased your mercilessly. The very people who had caused Aemond so much pain and even harsher words in the past years.

And yet you were forced to put on a pretty smile and put up with their chatter. Though had no quells with Rhaena, finding many conversation flows easy with her.

You felt all alone, stranded in a marriage yet to happen and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The journey around Westeros was as long as it weas boring, full of lords trying their hardest to appease you father, spoiling you all with gifts and pretty words.

You were grateful once you started to visit the northern houses, they were honest, less kind, less welcoming and less inclined to spoil you with meaningless gifts.

It took six months, six months of travelling of Aemond being distant and eventually ignoring you altogether before you reached Winterfell. And met Cregan stark.

And though you could tell he was a good man and that there was no way to deny he wasn’t handsome, he wasn’t Aemond.

You got along well, though every smile or laugh was met with Aemond’s glare. His disapproving stare. His harsh words and even harsher steps as he followed you both through the halls.

He hadn’t said a word to you, but made sure you new his anger.

Even as he watched you walk down the aisle in the godswood and take Cregan as your lord husband.

After that day you felt perpetually lost, as if you had lost the other part of you, that you were never whole.

Perhaps it was because Aemond had left without so much as a goodbye, or that now there was no chance of you and Aemond getting what you both wanted.

Two years passed, two years in the north as Cregan’s wife, a babe born and not a single word or letter from Aemond.

You felt stranded in the north, with no dragon nor any dragon rider offering you an escape. Any letters took weeks to arrive, any news arriving long after the fact.

You heard little from anyone frankly, that’s why it was such a surprise to see your nephew Jace once more.

“Jace?” you questioned, as you walked into the great hall. He sat beside Cregan, clearly having spent the night.

You were shocked, no one had told you of his arrival.

“Aunt” he greeted in turn, his voice kind as he greeted you.

“What are you doing here?” you said, as you approached where they sat.

He looked over to Cregan, shocked you didn’t know he was here. “Your father…Viserys is dead”

“oh” you said, not feeling any emotion in particular. He had never been a father too you, always distant, treating you more like a cousin child, than his own. “did he- was it peaceful?”

“I don’t know” he said, as you finally took your seat beside him, “we had left Kings Landing before-“

“Is that why your here? My fathers death?”

Jace looked over to Cregan an awkwardly, “Aegon usurped my mother, I have been sent to remind the north of their oath.”

Aegon being king wasn’t a surprise, your mother and grandsire had been plotting for years to crown him since he was born. If anything, you were shocked that Jace seemed surprised by the betrayal, as if the court hadn’t been treating Aegon as heir for years.

“And as I told the prince, the north remembers” Cregan said looking over to you, his tone serious. “we pledge our loyalty to the queen”

“and if war comes with you plunge your sword into my brothers back, husband?”

“if it comes it it, aye”

You looked down and remained quite through the remainder of Jace’s stay, keeping to yourself, as you always did.

The harsh realisation that your husband would so easily kill your brothers hurt, even if they were traitors and usurpers.

You had never felt whole since Aemond left and you knew a part of you chipped away the longer he was gone, the longer he punished you with his silence.

And then news came, Luke was dead at the hands of Aemond. And you felt apart of you break.

The realisation that Aemond would not survive this war without erasing the entirety of Rhaenrya’s line.

You felt more stuck than ever.

Stuck with a husband plotting a war were the allegiance was split.

You had married Cregan in hope of uniting the north to the greens. But of course the loyal house stark would never wavier form their oath, even if it meant a wife forced to watch as her kin was murdered.

You hated this war, and it had yet to start.

You had been left in charge of Winterfell in your husbands absence, and you felt even more lonely without him. The one person who you had felt some stability from.

Your dreams was filled with blood and death, fear of what was to come. And yet another dream chased you. Flashes of blue flames, ice eyes and cold scales. A song sung through your mind, it had no words or melody, it was as if it were a secret language only your dreams could understand.

A storm raged on, leaving you locked inside and a feeling a dread filling your bones.

You couldn’t escape the nagging feeling, the feeling like something was very wrong.

You could scarcely see outside the window, let alone leave the keep. The snow thick and relentless, and yet you could make out a figure ever so slightly.

A dragon.

Large and far away, your mind hoped it was Aemond, though he would be a fool to travel north, especially in this storm.

And yet it seemed to pale, not nearly as monstrous or large.

It called to you, your eyes following if, unable to tear themselves away from the dragon.

Had it not been the call of your name from your maid, Lyra, you were sure you would have chased after it, its song luring you to were ever its layer sat.

“my lady” she started, her demeanour nervous

“what is it?” you questioned, finally pulling your eyes away from the creature.

“you have a visitor”

“who-“ your words were cut off as your twin strolled in, his yes firm, a hand gripping his sword “Aemond”  you breathed, your hand gripping at your chest.

“sister” he greeted.

You sent a look to lyra, sending her running, though she seemed relived at the dismal.

“my husband is not here”

“good”

“he pledged for Rhaenrya”

His gaze hardened, a smile gracing his lips “you betray your own kin”

You scoffed “me betray? You are the one who has not spoken a word to me since the day i was married, no letter no word! Even Aegon wrote me and yet you my own twin, the very man i have loved and been with since the day we were born, betrays me without a word all because I am shipped of in a marriage you very well knew I did not want! If anyone has betrayed the other it is you”

His gaze fell, his smirk falling, “you choose him-“

“by the gods! I had no say”

His eyes dropped their firm, “no…mother said you had chosen him and rejected my bid” “your bid? You bid for my hand?” you scoffed once more, “do you think that if I knew I had a choice I would have come crying, begging for your help?”

He seemed you look at you, look at you for the first time in years, his yes boring into you in a way you did not realise you missed.

Aemond had always been selifish and cruel, a man who only believed his opinion to be the truth and yet with you he was patient and kind, and though you saw a glimpse of the man others did see, you knew he was still the Aemond you had long knew.

Though the fact remained, as it stood you were on opposing sides of this war, and with no dragon and your son the heir to house stark, you were powerless to change sides.

But as he looked at you, and as you heard to coo of your son as he sat in his crib your mind went back to the day your life changed and Aemond drifted apart.

You knew the day was coming, word had been circling around court, suitors from throughout the realm had come to bid for your hand.

Though you in truth you only wanted one man, your twin Aemond.

It wasn’t wrong for you to assume that you and he would marry, it was within the custom of your house, you had always been close and he had practically been courting you for years.

With gifts an-d days spent walking the gardens, with soft words and caresses.

Though he never made his intentions clear, you were sure he was of the same mind of you.

And yet days spent whining about the men hellbent on following you, with cheesy words of love and gifts you already had too may off. It was all impersonable and endlessly repetitive. And Aemond never uttered a word. Simply nodding his head in what you hoped was silent contempt.

and yet your mother had summoned you to her chambers, a sombre expression on her face.

“daughter” she greeted, a soft smile as she reached for your hand.

The feeling of dread encompassed you, your face pale and stricken as she ushered you to sit.

“an offer has been made, one your father could not refuse” she started, her hand caressing yours, “one with house stark…lord Cregan Stark has made a bid and your father has accepted.”

You swallowed, your head dropping.

“I know your heart bid for another…but this is the way of the realm, and lord Cregan is a good man, your- Rhaenrya’s son knows him well.” She spoke the last part hesitantly.

“when?”

“we leave in a moons turn”

You nodded your head, standing quickly you nodded your head as your turn to leave, the tears already threatening to fall from your eyes.

You had ran to Aemond’s rooms, his chambers adjacent to yours.

Your eyes were filled with tears, your face red and your breaths short.

He breathed your name, coming up to hold your face in his hands.

“I am to be married” you breathed through shallow breaths.

Aemond held his breath.

“mother…mother has said I shall marry…Lord Cregan Stark” you stuttered out, and Aemond back away from you, his hand dropping as if your face was fire.

“what?” he muttered harshly, “out of all your…suitors, him?”

“I had little say…I alw-“  you cut yourself of as you saw the look on Aemond’s face.

With you Aemond had always had patience, been kind where he was usually curel, his face never harsh or firm but now…now he seemed to hold the anger of the sun as he looked at you, as if he had been betrayed, as if he was the one being made to marry a man thousands of leagues away, a man you had never met.

“please Aemond” you begged, trying to move towards him once more.

You were unsure of what you were begging for.

Whether it was to help you get out of this betrothal or to marry him instead, but Aemond scoffed and sent you a glare that would send anyone else running.

“what do you want? Hmm?” he began, stalking over to you, “to help you out of it? Or what claim a dragon so that you might escape?” he said, his tone mocking.

“what is with you!” you spoke through tears, “why are you being so cruel?”

“cruel?” he scoffed once more, “you are the one being cruel!”

“how?! I had no choice!”

“you had every choice” he seethed, “and yet you continuously turn a blind eye to the right choice!”

“what choice? you think I had any choice in this?” you scoffed, “gods! Heleana had no say, even Rhaenyra had little say in her first husband and yet you think I got to choose?” tears were falling from your eyes but for an entirely different reason, you felt betrayed, the one person you knew or had thought you could trust with all your heart had betrayed you. Had made you lose all trust, and made you feel alone.

A feeling that had followed you for moons, even the following years that were to come. As he grew more and more distant, no more gifts or walks, days spent in each other’s company and now they were spent listening to your nephew trying to sell your future husband. Your mother and planning your wedding.

You felt like you had lost Aemond In his entirety and yet here he stood before you, claiming you a traitor.

“why are you here?” you breathed, trying to forget the words he had said.

“for you” he spoke, straightening his stance as you walked towards your sons crib.

“for me? What of Rickon? Hmm?” you said, bouncing your six month of son in your arms. “he is the heir to Winterfell and his father fights for your enemies, you expect me to leave with you? To abandon my home?”

“your home?” he huffed, “last we spoke, you hated it here.”

“last we spoke was two years ago, opinions change especially in years apart”

“so what? You will stay in here in the cold, damp, baren land that is the north?”

“in favour of what?” you questioned genuinely, leaving the north would gain you nothing, instead you would lose the comforts of a husband and your son his birthright.

“you know…I always assumed we would wed” Aemond began, a small gasp left your throat, “and so you will wed me, your son will be Aegon’s heir until you and I have a son of our own”

“what…I am already married-“

“to a man I shall kill myself”

“Aemond! Gods you are mad! You speak of a life this war will never offer us!” you shook your head, “I- I cannot leave here, not for a life you cannot guarantee, especially after years of neglect over something I could not control”

“so you are a traitor”

“I pledge to no one, I care not for the throne especially if the fight is between Aegon and Rhaenyra” you spoke “I have no means to fight in this war for either side, and I do not desire to…if that is what you want…for me to leave my home for no reason other than an empty promise for a life we will never live then I must tell you to leave”

“leave?” he said bewildered, unbelieving you would send him away so quickly.

“you can stay the night or until the storm clears up, but I will here no more of this war or of your fantasy you have suddenly conjured up” A fantasy you had long desired yourself, had craved for him to desire it to. And now you were offered it, it seemed unreachable now. A war in its way, a war started by him and only one ending could grant you this fantasy, an ending to messy and deadly.

“I will go now” he spoke harshly, sending you a single glance before he took his leave.

That night the storm raged harsher, and sleep evaded you.

The storm did not stop raging once and for the first time since Driftmark you feared for your brothers life.

You stared out your window once more, trying to find the familiar shape of Vaghar, and yet you saw nothing.

Your eyes closed as you hoped, prayed that he had manged to get out of the storm.

But instead of a prayer you heard the song, the singing of that dragon once more.

Opening your eyes, you instantly found its shape, its wings flying through the sky as if the storm was nothing, its song enticing you to follow it, to find were it sat.

Grabbing your cloak and your boats you were quick to sneak from the castle, with no one questioning the steps of their lady, even less when you made a hopeful glance to where you were told Vaghar had landed. Hoping Aemond had chosen to wait out the storm.

But the typical stubborn man had left, mostly likely gotten himself stranded on some cliff.

As you left the walls of Winterfell, your sight blinded by snow, you were guided by the dragons song, a song that grew louder and louder as you went deeper into the wolfs woods.

You had been hunting here on a few occasions, never alone and always at Cregan’s side.

The trees dwarfed the sky the further you went, and yet there was a clearing amongst the trees, leaving a trail of discarded leaves and twigs, snow parted by what could only be a tail.

The trail lead to a cave, encased with snow and yet here the song stopped and the familiar smell of dragon began.

You had not know of caves in these woods, then again you had long strayed from the trail others took, and perhaps the word of a dragon had made this corner of the woods scarce.

With hesitance you entered the cave, with no sword nor light, simply will.

The cave was empty, bar what seemed to be a cliff, leading below.

Had there not been the unrelenting scent of dragon you would have turned back and yet, you climbed down, down rugged rocks only to turn and be meet with an ice cold bolt shotting from the dragons mouth.

A roar filled the room, alongside ice cold blue flame.

The dragon you had only seen from a distance lay facing you, its stare made to intimidate.

You left out a breath at the sight of her.

She was so different yet similar to the dragons you had grown up seeing.

She tilted her head, assessing you, before she nudged you.

Whether it was playfully or an attempt to get you to leave you did not now.

And yet you continued to step forward.

“lykirī” You spoke softly, walking towards the dragon hand raised, “lykirī” your hand reached forward, touching the dragon’s snout softly. She was warm and yet freezing under your palm, so different from the hot scales you were used to under the touch of your siblings dragons.

“nyke ryptan aōha vāedar” you started, softly stroking her, “īles gevie…iksā gevie”

I heard your song… it was beautiful… you are beautiful.

A soft grumbled left the dragons lips.

“iksin ziry syt nyke? aōha vāedar?” you swore she nodded her head.

Was it for me? Your song?

“gōntan ao brōzagon syt nyke?” you whispered, moving down her snout and towards her back, the place a saddle usual sat.

did you call for me?

“eman dreamt hen ao, ryptan aōha vāedar syt jēdri. se yet mirre bisa jēda īlē paktot gō ñuha pungos”

i have dreamt of you, heard your song for years...and yet all this time you were right under my nose.

The dragon shook her head softly, turning to face you as if to urge you up upon her back.

You swallowed roughly as you climbed upon her wing and then her back. she was larger than your brothers dragon Sunfyer, you would even wager larger than dreamfyer, and yet she was younger, her eyes softer and scales thinner. Her fire, or ice, however was strong, perhaps even stronger than Caraxes.

You settled upon her back, holding onto her scales, and before you could utter a word, she took flight.

“daor” you muttered, “dohaerās” you spoke, your hands gripping tightly as you urged her to serve. “Paez”

No…serve…slow

The storm still raged, you were blinded as the snow pelted your eyes, and yet your dragon seemed unfazed.

She circled the woods in what seemed to be glee.

Showing of tricks that left you praying to the gods as you gripped onto her horns for dear life.

And then you heard a roar.

An old and ancient roar.

“jikagon ūndegon” you urged.

Go see

She flew through the sky at a rapid place before the sight of Vaghar became clear, she lay stranded on the lonely hills, covered in snow and Aemond lay beside her.

“elēnās” you commanded, urging our dragon to bank.

Jumping of her back you rushed towards Aemond, his body cold and shivering.

“Aemond…gods” you whispered, “I told you to stay the night!” you near screamed, trying to urge him awake, and yet he seemed unresponsive to your words.

“Vaghar jikagon, jurnegon syt shelter” you screamed, as you made moves to drag Aemond towards your dragon.

Vaghar go, search for shelter

The old dragon seemed to rumble at your words her gaze following you as you near threw Aemond body on top of the dragon, a dragon you decided very well needed a name.

You were scared to take flight once more, with nothing but your arms to hold onto the dragon and Aemond.

“gods” you muttered, your eyes blinded once more by snow. “sagon qucik se gīda” you commanded, pulling Aemond to your chest and below the winter coat you wore, your hands gripping your dragon, as you commanded her onwards.

Be quick and calm

The flight to Winterfell seemed short, though worry racked through you as Aemond’s breaths grew shorter.

You landed rather ungracefully in the godswood, a landing that seemed to awake the whole castle as you were greeted with the entirety of your staff, your maid, Lyra rushing towards you a blanket in hand.

“my lady” she muttered rushing towards you, only to gasp at the sight of Aemond as you struggle to carry him.

“Gunther, Torren” you shouted for your guards, to help you carry Aemond, “send for the maester my brother is in need of aid.

“my lady is that your dragon?” Lyra asked, nervously as your dragon seemed to send menacing glares to your staff.

“yes” you nodded, catching your breath from your seemingly heavy brother.

“what is its name?” she asked stepping behind your form nervously.

“Stormfyer” you decided, and she herself seemed to like it as she eagerly nudged you, pushing you back ever so slightly.

That night the maester cared for Aemond, his body slowly recovering.

Though whispered moved swiftly of your brothers presence, and his lack of dragon.

A week passed before Aemond woke.

His voice scratchy and body weak, his head confused. Even more so when he saw your face.

You stood with broth and bread in your hand, a soft nervous smile on your face as you faced him.

His eyes were angry, but his face seemed to relax ever so slightly at your face.

“am I a prisoner?” he asked, as you placed the tray on his lap.

“if you talk a single word of war then yes” you joked, though the words soured soon after they were spoken.

“how did you find me?”

You smiled at his words, “there is a dragon in the north, she sang to me and I answered her call and in doing so I found you, your body beside Vaghars…. I rescued you, near a week ago”

“a dragon?” he spoke “you have dragon now?”

You nodded, “Stormfyer, I named her…she is near the size of dreamfyer I believe, though closer in age to Vermax” you spoke with a smile.

“I am…happy for you sister”

“I won’t reconsider… before you say anything”

“I know…I realised as such as I lay here dreaming”

“dreaming…of what?”

“of you” he spoke instantly, his hand gripping yours, “I meant what is said, all I have ever wanted was you by my side, as my wife and my queen” “I do not wish to be queen”

“then we shall be farmer and wife…in Essos or I shall shave my head and take the name snow and be your faithful sworn sword here in the north”

“Cregan will kill you second he sees you”

“then we leave”

“what if my son?” you argued, “he is the heir to Winterfell, it is his birthright”

“as is Aegon’s as king” Aemond snapped.

“and yet a war rages for Rhaenyra as queen, a queen the north supports and you lie as the enemy within.”

“then will you kill me sister?”

“never” you whispered, gripping his hand tightly, “you are the other half of me, I found you dying on the hills for a reason, I have felt your pain and joy for years…I will not betray you” “you staying here does…it hurts me, makes me ache for you”

You took a deep breath, moving the tray of Aemond’s lap, and yourself towards him.

You took his face in your heads, your forehead lent against his.

“I ache for you…everyday of my life I have ached for you” you breathed “I waited, I waited for you to feel he same for you to tell me you wished to have me as your wife and yet that day never came until a week past…after I am married and made a mother” your eyes swelled with tears, “if the gods wished us together they would have made it easier for us Aemond…they never would have put us on opposing side of a war…or me with a husband i-“ you were cut off with Aemond’s lips on yours.

His mouth merged with yours, moving in tandem with the others, years of love and desire melting into one as his mouth kissed yours, his hands gripping your sides as he pulled you onto his lap.

Your hands reaching for his hair, tugging him closer to you.

Soft moans left your moth as his tongue danced with yours.

Your dress loosened by his wandering hands.

Your hips moving slowly against this, his length hardening against your thigh as you cunt became sickened with your wet heat.

“Aemond” you moaned breaking away from him. “I am married”

“and I do not care” he smoke, removing his shirt and they your dress. Leaving you both bare.

Your eyes were roaming and quick.

As if nervous to see another man naked, and yet Aemond had long been the only man you ever desired.

You should be filled with guilt, with the thought of your husband and yet, no guilt chased you as you removed the covers and revealed Aemond’s cock.

You swallowed at he sight of him.

You moved forward placing a quick kiss to his lips, hovering over his cock, before lunging down.

The feeling of your walls wrapping around his cock made you both moan, your breaths heavy as you adjusted to the size of him.

Your head reasted on his shoulder, his hands gripping your waists as you began to lift your self of his cock, only to push them down once more.

You set a slow pace as you rode him, moving your hips in slow circular motions.

Aemond placed soft kisses to your neck, urging you to look at him.

He moaned your name, his hands caressing your sides, before settling once more on your hips.

Gripping your waist, he began to move you up and down on his cock, his pace fast and full of pleasure.

Your peak came fast, your moans covered by your hands as you rode his cock.

Your walls clenching around his cock, causing Aemond’s own peak to wash over him, his seed filling you as you lay breathless above him.

“Aemond” you breathed, kissing his chest lightly as he held you to him.

“I have wanted to do that forever” he whispered, kissing your head.

You wanted to say so may things and yet you couldn’t.

You felt joy at having Aemond finally, at your emotions being laid bare before him.

And yet a sadness watched over you as if this was a goodbye.

And seeing as shouts were heard, the sound of hooves and a rapid knock upon the door, you realised it was.

He gripped your hand, “stay” he urged.

“it is my husband” you whispered, gathering your clothes in a rush., “he can never know…you must leave!”

“leave? How when our husband and his men circle the courtyard”

“i- i- don’t..” you mumbled in a panic as your redressed, “this never happened Aemond, you must bend plea for something…I don’t know say you pledge for Rhaenyra”

“he will never believe it…and why would I come here if I did”

The knocking sounded once more…look asleep and sickly… I will come back” your promised rushing out the doors and to greet your husband.

“Husband” you greeted, a breathless smile on your face, “you are back?”

“only for a time, I’m afraid” he said, sad smile on his face as he gave you a kiss in greeting.

He turned serious as he faced you, his voice a whisper as he spoke, “your brother…Aemond” he began, “he is here?”

You swallowed, “yes…but please I beg don’t kill him” you said tears filling your eyes, “he can be our prisoner…I sent his dragon away he has no means of leaving” you begged.

He looked at you hesitantly, before urging you to talk inside.

“he is a kin slayer” he spoke outright, “he should be killed…executed”

“I know…but he is a valuable prisoner.” He looked at you the, with the same look he gave you the first few months of your marriage. When you felt alone and needed Aemond like you need air to breath.

“do you still love him?” he spoke after a moment, “and do not deny that you ever did…I know of the whispers and I know you saved his life days ago”

“you are my husband…the father of my son…I have cared for you and even started to love you-“

“but do you love him?”

You stared at him your eyes begging for what, you did not know “what does it matter” you sighed in mock defeat.

Cregan kissed his teeth, “queen Rhaenyra has taken Kingslanding, Aegon is missing, and Aemond now a hostage of the north and you...” he stopped himself unsure of what to make of you, “you are my wife and the lady of the north, a kingdom pledged to the queen”

“so what? Am I too a prisoner until you can test my loyalty?”

“do I need to test your loyalty?”

You had no reply as you stormed out of his solar, and to your own rooms.

You realised you had no choice in what was to come, Aemond would die and no prayers would save him from what his fate was set to be.

Sighing you faced the room you had made a home, now it seemed empty.

The crib lay empty, your son in the nursery.

Your bed made and fire well kept.

Your thing scattered, with clothes left tidy in their dresser, blanket slung over chairs, books left stacked.  

You sighed, your head falling in your hands as you began to pace your room.

Then the realisation hit, the need to flea and run

Grabbing a bag you packed everything you could, clothes and books, hairbrushes and toys for your son.

A cloak slung over your shoulder, the bag well hidden as you made way to the nursery.

Smiling as you greeted him, his smiles lighting the room as you took him into your arms and made way to where Aemond was kept.

He lay in his bed, the food you had brought now eaten, a book lay in his hand.

“Aemond” you breathed, closing the door behind you. “we must leave” you said as you chucked some of the clothes Cregan kept in your chamber towards him.

Fleeing proved easier than you had thought. With feasts and revelry at your husbands return it was easy to sneak through the keep and towards the godswood.

Vhagar had made her way there only days ago, and though Aemond was still weak from the cold, he seemed to lighten up at the sight of her.

“where are we going?” he breathed as you tossed Aemond the bag you had packed.

“to lys” you began, “we cannot stay in Westeros and with the triarchy as your ally I am sure we would be safer there than here.”

After that day no one knows what happened to the Targaryen twins, many assumed Aemond had kidnapped you in act of revenge for your supposed loyalty to Rhaenrya and your betrayal against him. When in truth the escape had been your plan, and whilst you had lived in lys, myr and Tyrosh, moving from place to place for the first five years in fear of assassins, you later found a home where you thrive away from the war Aemond had began.

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[novaursa]

hi!! could i request a targaryen! reader x jacaerys velaryon.

reader is daemon and laena velaryon daughter, she’s the epitome of daemon when he was in his prime (crazy daemon) but got her mothers looks. she’s betrothed to jace not baela. the scene when the dragonseeds meet jace and ulf blatantly disrespects jace, she enters the room and steps in. she looks down on him like someone below her to remind him his place, both jace and her do. especially threatens that her dragon (maybe oc dragon of balerion or cannibal) has a particular diet of eating his own kind, she’ll turn a blind eye when her dragon starts eating silverwing, leaving ulf back being a dragonseed in the slums where he belongs. then the dinner scene too!, not to forget hugh too, even though he doesn’t do anything just a mere threat. not addam though loves her uncle 🫶🫶

you can choose however you want it story to be structure you have full autonomy🫶🫶

Wayward Daughter

- Summary: When Ulf disrespects Jacaerys, you remind him of his place.

- Paring: cousin!reader/Jacaerys Velaryon

- Note: The reader is Daemon's and Laena's oldest daughter, she is bonded with Cannibal.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (just to be safe)

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The wind howls as you stand with Jacaerys atop the rocky outcrop of Dragonstone, your gaze drawn toward the towering peaks of Dragonmont where the dragons circle high above. The skies are turbulent today, a reflection of the tension that hangs in the air. Jacaerys stands beside you, his posture straight, though there’s a flicker of unease in his dark eyes. You feel it, too. The Dragonseeds—those commoners and bastards who claim Targaryen blood and now seek the right to mount dragons—have arrived. And with them, comes trouble.

The Cannibal stirs behind you, a deep rumble vibrating through his massive chest, his black scales blending with the stormy sky. The others might flinch in his presence, but you’ve known him all your life. He’s wild and uncontrollable to anyone else, but you’ve forged a bond with him like no other. His dark and dangerous energy is a mirror of your own, a reflection of what it means to be Daemon Targaryen’s eldest daughter. Where Jacaerys holds the warmth of his mother’s love, the steadfastness of duty, you are a flame lit by a different fire—wild, unpredictable, fierce.

Ahead, the Dragonseeds approach, two of them standing out from the rest: Ulf the White and Hugh Hammer. Ulf’s silver hair shines under the fading light, but it is his swagger that grates on you. There’s something in the way he carries himself, a man too confident for someone who spent most of his life in the slums of King’s Landing, now reaching for power he has never earned. Hugh, on the other hand, stands a little to the side, his dark eyes flicking between you, Jace, and Ulf, as if he knows trouble is brewing.

"Your Grace," Ulf greets Jacaerys with a smirk that barely conceals his contempt. He steps closer to Jacaerys, reaching out as if to touch him, to invade his space. "Such fine hair you have, my prince," Ulf says, his voice dripping with false admiration as his fingers graze the edges of Jacaerys’s dark locks.

The brazenness of his gesture sparks a fury within you. Jace’s jaw clenches, but he remains still, trying to hold his composure. You, however, are not one to allow such disrespect to go unanswered.

Without a word, you step between them, placing your body protectively in front of Jacaerys. The look in your eyes is one of warning, as sharp as the point of a sword. Ulf’s smirk falters when he meets your gaze. He may think himself bold, but he hasn’t yet faced the fury of a Targaryen woman with the blood of Old Valyria running hot in her veins.

“If you ever touch him like that again, Ulf, I will feed Silverwing to Cannibal piece by piece,” you say, your voice low and venomous, yet steady as steel. “And when there’s nothing left but bone, you will be sent crawling back to the slums of King’s Landing where you belong.”

The threat hangs in the air like the scent of wildfire. Ulf blinks, his smirk wiped away, replaced by something like fear as he glances at the looming shadow of Cannibal behind you. You don’t move, holding his gaze until he looks away, defeated. He shifts uncomfortably, taking a step back, the bravado drained from his face.

You spare a glance at Hugh Hammer, his hands open in a gesture of appeasement. Unlike Ulf, Hugh is no fool. His eyes meet yours, and he inclines his head in a small nod, acknowledging your warning without the need for words. He knows Ulf was out of line, and he has no desire to provoke you or Jacaerys further.

“I meant no harm,” Ulf mumbles, his arrogance melting under the weight of your stare. He steps back again, his hands raised as if to show he’s harmless. “Just a jest.”

“There is no jest in disrespect,” you snap, still holding your ground. “Jacaerys is your prince, and you will show him the respect he deserves, or you’ll answer to me.”

Jace’s hand brushes yours lightly, a silent gesture of gratitude. His eyes flick to you with a look that says more than words ever could. Though he could stand up for himself—and does, more often than not—there is something deeply satisfying about the way you step into the fray for him. He is your betrothed, your equal, but in this moment, you are the one with fire in your blood, unafraid to burn those who dare disrespect what is yours.

“Enough,” Jacaerys says at last, his voice firm as he steps forward, reclaiming his space. He doesn’t need to say more; the point has been made. Ulf and Hugh both bow their heads, though it is Hugh who seems more genuine in his respect.

As the Dragonseeds shuffle away, Jacaerys turns to you, his expression softening. “You didn’t have to do that,” he murmurs, though there’s a hint of amusement in his tone.

You shrug, a smirk pulling at your lips. “Maybe not,” you admit. “But I wanted to.”

He chuckles, the anomasity of the moment easing. “I’m beginning to think I should fear you more than I fear Cannibal.”

“Good,” you say, your smile widening. “You’re learning.”

The two of you stand in the fading light of Dragonstone, the storm clouds swirling above. 

And anyone who dares to come between you will face your wrath.

The hall of Dragonstone is filled with the low hum of conversation as you enter, your eyes scanning the room where the Dragonseeds have gathered. The flickering light of the hearth casts shadows across the ancient walls, the scent of roasted meats and spiced wine lingering in the air. At the head of the table, Jacaerys sits beside you, his gaze steady, though you can sense the tension in his posture. This dinner is meant to solidify alliances, but with men like Ulf the White at the table, it feels more like a test of wills.

You take your seat beside Jace, your attention briefly drawn to Addam of Hull, who sits across from you. His eyes are sharp, observant, but there’s an easy manner about him that sets him apart from the others. Addam is different. He carries himself with a quiet dignity, a reflection of his true lineage—though unspoken, you know well enough that he’s Corlys Velaryon’s son, a secret that sits heavy in the air between you, though neither of you have ever addressed it.

Ulf sits a few chairs down, his posture languid, as if he believes himself the lord of this table. His pale eyes flick toward you, and you can see the resentment simmering beneath the surface. It’s no secret that Ulf has never forgiven you for the way you put him in his place earlier. Good. You have no intention of letting him forget it.

The conversation is polite, if a bit strained. Rhaenyra, seated further down, makes an effort to engage the Dragonseeds, offering words of gratitude and hope for the future. But your focus shifts when Ulf, with that insufferable grin of his, leans back in his chair, his goblet of wine raised as if he’s already claimed a victory.

"Seems the prince and his lovely bride-to-be have more fire in them than I thought," Ulf says, his voice carrying just enough weight to draw attention. His eyes flick to you, lingering just a little too long, the implication behind his words hanging in the air. "Targaryens always were a fiery bunch."

You feel Jace stiffen beside you, but you remain calm, a slow smile tugging at the corners of your lips. You relish moments like this—when men like Ulf think they have the upper hand, only for you to remind them who they’re truly dealing with.

“Oh, Ulf,” you say, your tone light, almost playful, “it’s not just fire we have in our blood. It’s power, something you seem to misunderstand.” You pause, letting the words sink in, then take a sip of your wine. “But perhaps that’s why Silverwing tolerates you. She must sense the need for something stronger in your bloodline.”

The remark lands as intended, and you see the flicker of irritation flash in Ulf’s eyes. His hand tightens around the goblet, but he doesn’t respond right away, perhaps knowing better than to provoke you any further in front of the gathered company. Instead, he shoots a sidelong glance at Hugh, who remains silent but clearly uncomfortable with the rising tension.

“Careful, Y/N,” Ulf says, trying to keep his voice steady, though you can hear the edge to it. “Not everyone at this table shares your sense of humor.”

“Good,” you reply, raising your goblet in mock toast. “I wouldn’t want to be misunderstood. And let me make myself perfectly clear, Ulf, if you think for one moment you can match me in wit, let alone in power, you’ll find yourself sorely disappointed.”

There’s a low murmur from those seated nearby, eyes flicking between you and Ulf. But before the tension can escalate, Addam speaks up from across the table, his voice calm, cutting through the growing unease.

“Ulf,” he says, his tone firm but not unkind, “let’s not forget why we’re here. This war requires unity, not division.” He glances at you briefly, a knowing look in his eyes. There’s no fear or contempt in his gaze, only understanding. Addam is smart enough to recognize what’s at stake, and perhaps that’s why you find it easy to respect him, unlike Ulf.

You give Addam a small nod, acknowledging his attempt to smooth things over. There’s something about him that you can’t help but admire—his steady demeanor, his quiet strength. It’s no wonder Corlys holds him in such regard, bastard or not.

“Of course,” you say, your voice softening as you turn your attention to Addam. “We’re all here for the same cause, after all. It’s not every day one has the chance to fight for a true queen.” You smile at him, the warmth in your tone genuine. Unlike Ulf, Addam has earned his place here.

Addam returns the smile, though his eyes remain sharp, ever watchful. “A true queen indeed,” he replies, lifting his goblet in a respectful toast. “To Rhaenyra.”

The tension at the table eases somewhat, the air growing lighter as the others follow Addam’s lead and raise their goblets in agreement. But even as you join in the toast, your eyes linger on Ulf, watching him closely, waiting for any sign that he might try to push you further. He says nothing, his gaze fixed on the table in front of him, though you can still feel the undercurrent of his resentment.

The rest of the dinner passes without incident, the conversation flowing more easily now, but you keep your focus sharp. Ulf may be cowed for now, but men like him don’t forget slights easily. You’ll be ready when he tries again.

As the meal winds down, you lean closer to Jacaerys, your hand resting lightly on his arm. “We’re surrounded by would-be dragons, but not all of them are worthy,” you murmur quietly, your gaze shifting toward Ulf, who is still sulking in his seat.

Jace follows your gaze, his lips curving into a small, wry smile. “I trust you to remind them of that,” he says, his voice low, only for your ears.

You smile in return, feeling the weight of the moment lift slightly. If the Dragonseeds—or anyone else—wants to challenge you, they’ll find themselves facing not just one dragon, but two.

[gnocchibabie]

Desire and Blood (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen/Strong OC (Jaenara Velaryon)

Tags: AU - canon divergence, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, Targcest (uncle/niece)

Wordcount: 4.7k

Summary:

Against all odds, the love between childhood friends prevails and the Dance of Dragons is avoided.

However, peace comes at a cost. With the unexpected proposal of marriage between Alicent Hightower's son and Rhaenyra Targaryen's only daughter, can love truly blossom between sworn enemies? Or will Jaenara Velaryon be reduced to a mere pawn?

Love may yet arise where enmity once thrived, but Aemond's relentless pursuit of power threatens to shatter everything they hold dear, including each other.

A/N: You can find the previous chapters on my masterlist!

If you are liking this series, please consider showing some love on my AO3 posting of this fic :) thank you x

!!! This chapter contains dialogue in High Valyrian, which will be designated by bold and italics...enjoy :)

A week had slipped away since Jaenara and her family had settled into King’s Landing. She found herself passing time by discussing plans for the upcoming coronation with her mother or entertaining little Aegon and Viserys. Occasionally, she rode out on dragonback with Baela and Rhaena, savoring the freedom of the skies above. When she was up amongst the clouds, the princess forgot all about what her life had become down below. Sitting atop Aetherion, it was as if nothing else mattered.

Yet above all, Jaenara found herself occupied with a careful dance of avoidance whenever Aemond Targaryen crossed her path. She had escaped several close calls, ducking into unoccupied rooms whenever she saw the prince at the other side of a hallway. Jaenara had often wondered to herself if she could continue to keep up this game of cat and mouse well into their marriage, but the prospect of having to constantly hide from the man who was to be her husband did sadden her. Ever so slightly. 

Currently, the princess found herself in the castle gardens walking shoulder to shoulder with Helaena. Jaenara had not had as much alone time with her aunt as she would have liked, and was eager to reconnect with the one member of the Targaryen-Hightowers she could actually stand to be around. Helaena seemed to be pleased with the company, though it was difficult for Jaenara to tell at times. Her aunt had always been a somewhat emotionally distant person, even when they were children.

“My mother tells me that the planning for Rhaenyra’s coronation is almost finished?” Helaena inquires.

Jaenara and Jacaerys had both been closely involved with the planning of their mother’s name day ceremony. The preparations had proven to be stressful, even now plaguing the princess’ mind. Temporary discomfort is a small price to pay for mother to sit the Iron Throne - Jaenara had told herself. Though, she could not say she felt the same way about the looming, permanent discomfort she would soon find herself in…

Rhaenyra had even tried to include Aegon in the ceremony planning as well. An offering for the position he had given up for his older sister. Though he had seemed less than interested, opting to disappear for hours at a time instead. Even now, Jaenara wondered where her uncle often took off to, leaving her sweet aunt and their children alone. She questioned if she would be condemned to such a fate as well - Aemond fluttering about doing gods know what while she was left to care for their babes alone. The princess decides it is best not to mull over such depressing possibilities that she may soon enough find herself in.

“Yes, her name day will be here before we know it - just a short week away. Though I find myself anxious about the festivities.” Jaenara finally responds. 

“I understand,” Helena breathes, “I am not one for crowds either.”

“Well then we must stick together until the whole ordeal is over.” Jaenara reassures her aunt. And herself.

“I would gladly,” Helaena giggles, “Though when your wedding day arrives, my brother will stand at your side, not I."

Jaenara sighed - another formality she had been dreading heavily. She’d venture to guess that the moment her mother’s name day passes, planning for the wedding will begin immediately. The princess knew that her scarcity of interactions with Aemond would not last for much longer. Not if either of their mothers could help it. 

Jaenara felt she had little to discuss with her betrothed. What else was there to say?

Helaena came to a halt, bending down to pick up a large, green beetle. Jaenara winced - she had never been one for bugs, save for the pretty butterflies she had often chased with her aunt in their youth. She watched as the beetle began to travel up Helaena’s arm. Jaenara found that Helaena looked serene, her blonde-white hair picked up by the breeze and a content smile on her lips. The princess decides to take advantage of the peaceful moment to ask her aunt a troubled question.

“What is it like? Being married, that is.” Jaenara’s face grows serious.

Helaena removes the beetle from her forearm with a gentle touch and places it on a leaf below.

“It doesn’t really feel like anything,” She says, though her aunt does not sound particularly bothered by the dreary thought, “Aegon does not pay me much mind. Save for the times we have…done our duty.”

Jaenara clears her throat awkwardly.

“So, I suppose it is not so bad. I am free to do as I please. As he is. Though I think Aemond will make a better lover.” Helaena finishes. Jaenara looks at her aunt as if she has three heads and scoffs. She looks back at the princess with a coy look on her face.

“What a terrifying thought.” Jaenara sounds defeated as the two women resume their walk. A calm silence passes over them once again, as does the gentle breeze.  

Helaena looks as though someone is speaking to her and finds herself gazing up at the sky for a moment - and then to her niece.

She smiles, as if the clouds have told her a secret.

— — —

On the far side of the Red Keep, The One Eyed Prince begins to lay the groundwork of his plan to put his soon-to-be wife on the Iron Throne. Aemond has decided he must get in the good graces of his family - especially Jacaerys - if he is to carry out familicide without raising any suspicion that he had a hand in it. Something easier said than done, Aemond knows. Any amount of decency he could afford the heir and his brother would be met with scrutiny. A few kind words will not undo years of victimization dealt on both sides. 

Aemond clenches his jaw as he searches for his nephews throughout the grounds of the Red Keep. Locating them had proven to be challenging, though not as much as finding their sister. Aemond knew that Jaenara had been purposefully avoiding him. One evening, he had even caught sight of her ducking into her mother’s chambers when he had turned a corner, entering the same hallway as her. Her elusion frustrated the prince. If he could not speak to the princess and build up a rapport with her, then she would assuredly be the first to point her finger at him when news of Jace’s murder came about.  

Just when Aemond is about to give up entirely, he spots Jacaerys and Lucerys in the training yard, wooden swords in hand. Aemond lurks back for a moment, watching them practice their drills. Their moves are quick and calculated, proving that his nephews had become even more skilled fighters during their time away from the Red Keep. Though their moves had a certain unrefined quality to them. Aemond finally moves from his spot, drawing nearer to the princes. Lucerys spots him first and mumbles a curse under his breath, as hid older brother turns to meet Aemond’s eyes. Aemond smirks at the boys, and he can tell it takes all of Jace’s strength not to throw down his play sword and saunter off. 

The prince stands tall over his nephews, to hide the uneasiness he feels about approaching them. He’s pulled his long, sleek hair into a bun. His own sword, a practice blade worn smooth from countless hours of swinging, hung loose at his side

The air is tense around the group and a short silence hangs over them. Clanking of wood and metal and grunts fills the yard as the princes all stare at each other.

Aemond finally clears his throat and breaks the quiet.

"You're both too cautious," he remarks in a voice that carries authority but also a hint of patience. "Don't overthink your strikes. Let them flow naturally. It's about instinct as much as it is about technique."

Jacaerys narrowed his eyes skeptically. "You must think of us as fools, uncle. Why would we listen to you? You do not practice the habit of fighting honorably - Luke and I’ve both seen that.”

And what would you know about fighting honorably? Aemond remarks to himself.

Where is the honor in gouging out a boy’s eye? 

He inhales a deep breath to calm his rising frustration.

Lucerys, ever the more reserved of the two, held his ground but watched Aemond with a cautious curiosity.

Aemond knows he should not make the jest, but before he can stop himself, the words fall from his smug mouth.

“Fools? No - I only see two Strong boys before me.” 

Both of the brother’s harden their gaze. This time, Jacaerys does take off, with Luke trailing behind.

Fuck.

“But!” Aemond is quick to add to his lecture, desperate to keep the boys where they are, “Honor in battle is not always as straightforward as the songs would have it. There are times when survival demands unconventional measures.”

“And how,” Jace has stopped and turned to face his uncle once more, “would you know anything of a real battle?”

“You forget I train with Ser Criston Cole.” “You forget we trained with Daemon Targaryen.”

Aemond chooses to bite back another remark about how - despite training with one of the realm’s most formidable soldiers, the brother’s still lacked the necessary knowledge and skills.

Instead, he walks back towards their place in the yard and motions for the Velaryons to follow him. Jace stares at him a moment, lets out an exaggerated huff and mutters, “Come on, Luke.”

At their return, Aemond demonstrates a quick feint, his movements precise. “You’re signaling your intent with your movements, Jacaerys. And Lucerys, you hesitate before every strike. Be bold, but calculated. Like this," he continued, demonstrating a fluid series of strikes and blocks. Luke, with a touch of reservation, takes up a fighting stance in front of his older brother.

Aemond nodded approvingly. "Let's try it again. And this time, don't hold back."

For the remainder of the afternoon, Aemond guided them through drills and techniques, offering pointers in between bouts. Slowly, the initial wariness between the boys and the Targaryen prince faded, replaced by a grudging respect for his skill and knowledge.

When the sun had begun to dip into the horizon, the three young heirs sheathed their swords. Aemond found a rare smile breaking through his usually stoic demeanor. He did not find any joy in the times he sparred with Aegon, which had been few and far between lately. His brother had no real interest in learning and bettering his skills. And Criston Cole was becoming predictable - through no fault of his own. Aemond simply had no one else to spar with that was anywhere near his level. He found unexpected fulfillment in teaching his nephews.

Jace finally deposits his wooden sword with the others in the training yard, Luke following suit. 

With a huff and an expression that makes the prince seem physically pained he tells his uncle, “Well. That was rather…I did not think I’d ever see the day where you would give us any kind of genuine advice. Nevertheless, I am…grateful for your counsel uncle.” 

“Yes. Thank you, Aemond.” Lucerys adds curtly.

Aemond gives them a nod as acknowledgment.

Naive fools.

With that, Jace and Luke begin their journey back into the Red Keep. Aemond watches the boys stride away side by side. He almost resigns himself to turning in for the day, when a thought suddenly enters his mind. 

“Do you know where I might find your sister?” He calls after them. 

Jace remains silent continuing his walk. Aemond rolls his eyes.

She has sworn them to secrecy.

Lucerys seems to take some sort of pity on his uncle after their shared afternoon - much to the dismay of Jace, “I think she spoke of spending time in the gardens…” the younger brother’s sentence trails off when he sees the look Jacaerys gives him. 

Aemond nods gratefully, though no one sees it, and sets off towards the gardens, his mind already racing. He knew spending time with Jaenara was another crucial part of his plan he needed to begin sowing the seeds for. As much as she may detest it.

The believed that if he could convincingly pretend to be infatuated with his niece, to the extent that she truly believed his feelings were genuine, it might help divert suspicion away from him regarding her brother’s eventual murder. She may even come to defend him, when the time comes. Though this would prove to be a challenge.

“You can expect a union that does not harbor any illusions of love” Aemond’s own words from her first evening back at King’s Landing echoed in his mind.

Aemond lets out a frustrated groan and picks up his pace.

When he reaches the gardens, Aemond finds Jaenara and his sister seated on a weathered stone bench in deep discourse, while their ladies-in-waiting linger nearby, amusing themselves.

The distant laughter of the two maidens surprises Aemond and stirs a hint of a smile on his face. He couldn’t remember the last time his sister had laughed so freely. It was then, he realized, he had never heard Jaenara genuinely laugh. Everything she let out in his presence was nothing more that a scoff or dry laugh. This, he thought, was a nice change of pace. Happiness suited her.

I should leave them. Aemond’s resolve falters for a moment, and he pivots for a swift and silent retreat. Yet, his sister catches sight of him before he can vanish.

"Aemond!" Helaena's voice rings out, compelling him to sigh and reluctantly turn back to face them.

Helaena's eyes glint with mischief as she waves a hand, beckoning him over. Meanwhile, the fleeting smile on Jaenara's face vanishes, replaced by an indifferent gaze.

"Aemond," his sister greets again, her tone laced with curiosity. "Where have you been?"

"Just sparring with your brothers," Aemond replies, his gaze drifting towards Jaenara.

The surprise in Jaenara's eyes is evident and impossible to conceal.

"With Jace and Luke?" she questions, her voice tinged with disbelief. "You seem…unscathed. I trust the same can be said for my brothers?"

"It was just a training session - nothing if not civil. I only meant to give them a bit of advice," Aemond responds, a smirk playing upon his lips.

Helaena suddenly springs to her feet. "I don’t believe you two have had many opportunities to speak as of late. I will leave you to catch up" she suggests, a faraway look on her face. "I must attend to the children." Her lady-in-waiting follows closely behind as she departs.

Jaenara starts to rise, offering to assist, but Helaena insists she stay. Aemond can't help but conceal his amusement at Jaenara’s desperate state.

The princess exhales sharply and resumes her promenade through the gardens, without so much as a glance over her shoulder at Aemond. With a huff, he follows behind her, as her lady-in-waiting mirrors.

The prince wishes he could dismiss the attendant, wishing for a moment alone with Jaenara to speak without restraint. 

He thinks of another solution.

Aemond peers down at his niece and lets High Valyrian fall freely from his lips.

“You have been avoiding me.” 

Jaenara does not remove her eyes from the path in front of her.

“You have not sought me out.” She retorts, her tone cool and collected. Aemond lights up. He had not expected his niece to be fluent in their mother tongue, and hearing her voice enunciate the ancient words caused something unknown inside of him to stir. 

“I am now,” he replies evenly, “ And I have to say, I had not expected you to be so fluent in Valyrian. Not even my brother speaks it so well. That idiot can barely piece together a single sentence.” 

Jaenara laughs, “I am a Targaryen. Every Targaryen should speak their language. Understand their history.”

Aemond nods, “Something we can agree on, niece. Though I have to say, you speak it better than I thought a-”

“Then a bastard would?” Her words are laced with a bittersweet acknowledgment that catches Aemond off guard. His niece had never spoken the truth of her parentage in front of him - or anyone for that matter. In truth, Aemond found him unsettled from her acquiescence. Though he understood the only reason she dared to acknowledge the truth now, is because no one around them had a clue what she was saying. 

“You’re not laughing, uncle. Very unlike you - you who never passes up an opportunity to remind me of my blood.” Jaenara still seemed unfazed, her attention drifting to a cluster of blue irises at their feet. She bends gracefully to touch the silky petals, and Aemond finds himself captivated by the way her dark hair spills like a cascade of black silk over the blossoms. He clears his throat.

“You are to be my…ābrazȳrys (wife). I no longer wish to humiliate you over things out of your control, such as your parentage.” Aemond’s voice is steady and controlled, betraying his inner turmoil over making such remarks.

Jaenara lets out a laugh, though it sounds hollow. Much unlike the laughter she had shared with his sister. Her lady-in-waiting shifts uncomfortably behind them. “Actions speak louder than words, Aemond.” The princess rises from her spot amongst the flowers, turning to face her betrothed.

Aemond is filled with a stubborn determination at hearing her challenge, and takes a few steps towards her - until he can feel his niece’s breath fan over him. He stares down at her, and finds that he enjoys how she does not shrink under his gaze.

“Pār nyke jāhor gaomagon.” - Then I will act.

Jaenara laughs again, but it is quickly put to an end.

“I do not know why you laugh, Jaenara. I am being sincere.” His gaze is hard. 

She considers his words for a moment, and turns back to the garden path. The princess returns to the common tongue. 

"Come along, it is growing darker," Jaenara says, her voice carrying a hint of finality as she resumes their journey along the garden path. Aemond follows silently, his mind still processing the weight of their conversation. The sun dips lower, casting long shadows across the estate grounds, while a cool evening breeze stirs the leaves of ancient trees. When the couple finally reach the stone archways and paths of the Red Keep, Aemond speaks up once more. 

“You will have breakfast with me. Tomorrow” It is not a question, though his tone remains soft..

“I will?” Jaenara asks, an eyebrow raised in defiance.

“This is me taking action.” He offers her a wry smile.

Jaenara exhales and looks to her handmaiden, who skillfully avoids her gaze. “Fine. I will see you in the morning” She stomps off to her chambers, lady-in-waiting trailing behind. The princess does not get to see the small, honest smile that settles on Aemond’s lips. 

— — —

Early the next morning, Jaenara awakes to a polite knock on her chamber door. Alora, her lady-in-waiting, entered cautiously, offering a sheepish greeting. "Good morning, Your Grace."

The princess rubbed her eyes wearily and yawned. "Good morning, Alora. And please, call me Jaenara when it is just us. No need for formality in the privacy of these chambers." she replied with a tired attempt at a smile.

"Oh! Yes, my lady—I mean, Jaenara," Alora stumbled over her words, feeling conflicted over addressing a princess so casually. "Um... Aemond - the prince - sent me to assist you with dressing. He wishes to have breakfast with you?" She sounds uncertain.

Jaenara sighed lightly and pushed herself to her feet. "Very well. Let's not keep him waiting," she said, giving Alora a reassuring glance.

Alora deftly combs out Jaenara's long, ebony hair, swiftly braiding half of it and letting the rest fall down her back. As the princess gradually awakened, she engaged in light conversation with the younger girl, easing her nerves. 

With gentle assistance, Alora helped Jaenara into a splendid dress—its upper half a deep shade of black, its lower half a rich crimson. The sleeves were wrought with golden embroidery. Once satisfied with her handiwork, Alora guided Jaenara to the dining room, where Aemond awaited their arrival.

“Thank you, Alora. I think that will be all for now.” The princess smiles at her lady, dismissing her. Jaenara hesitantly pulls out a chair across from Aemond.

“Good morning.” She offers. An honest attempt at niceties. 

Aemond hums, sounding pleased. “Good morning.”

It remains quiet for a while, as the two begin to serve themselves and take a few bites of the breakfast that has been prepared. The prince steals glances at his niece, observing how her dark curls frame her face. Watching her spoon her food gracefully. Noting how her dress clings to her.

At last, Aemond ventured to break the quiet. “That dress suits you well.”

The princess pauses her cutting of a sausage. Jaenara had not expected to hear that kind of comment so early in the morning. And no less from Aemond of all people. She narrows her eyes at him.

“What?” She asks, as if offended.

Aemond pauses, mid-bite. “I only meant it as a compliment. The Targaryen colors agree with you.” 

Jaenara continues with her meal, deciding that pretending as though she had not heard her uncle was the best course of action.

Why did he say that? Does he mean to mock me?

The prince breaks the silence once more, wanting to change the subject. "I hear your mother's name day preparations have been finalized."

Jaenara swallows a mouthful of food and clears her throat. “Um…yes. I believe so. Everything should be in place by now. The ceremony will be in…five days? I believe.”

"My mother seems unusually eager for the occasion," Aemond remarked. "She and Rhaenyra have been quite chatty lately."

“You’ve noticed too?”

“It is hard not to.” Aemond admitted.

Jaenara shrugs, “True enough. Well, they seem happier anyway.”

Aemond only hums in agreement. “My mother, although…she seems to be even more excited about the wedding than the coronation ceremony.”

Jaenara sputtered on the ale served alongside their meal.

A smug grin spread across the prince's face.

“Oh? Is that so?” She asks as nonchalantly as she can. 

“Oh yes,” Aemond sounds amused, “I hear her and Rhaenyra have taken to planning a few things.”

"What!?" Now Jaenara could not hide her surprise. Her outburst drew the attention of nearby servants, and Aemond grinned at her fluttering.

“Um - I only meant. I had not known they were already planning the ceremony.” She finished, dabbing a napkin to the corners of her mouth.

“Well someone has to. We certainly have not spoken about it.” Aemond remarks.

Jaenara almost feels guilty. She searches Aemond’s eyes for any indication of regret or sadness over their lack of time together. 

“Well then…what would you like to discuss about it?” The princess makes an attempt to turn to the matter.

Aemond considers the question. “What kind of cake would you like?”

Jaenara lets out a true laugh at that, catching Aemond off guard.

“If I must tell you,” She says while catching her breath, “I am fond of lemon pastries.”

Aemond makes a noise of agreement. He recalls that her mother favors the sweets as well. “Then we shall have them.”

Jaenara looks up from her meal and the couple lock eyes. She stares intently into his, trying to decipher his unreadable expression. 

What are you doing, uncle? She is left to wonder. Jaenara feels a crack begin to form in the walls she had put up to keep Aemond out. But the fracture is filled as quickly as it appears when she considers that Aemond is simply playing his part. Putting up a charade. The princess looks at the man before her, and can only seem to remember the cruelties that he has dealt. Her heart hardens.

"Why do you care?" she questioned, her tone accusatory. Despite their heartfelt conversation in the garden the day before, Jaenara only continued in her struggle to believe in her uncle's sincerity.

“Because I want to care.” Aemond is taken aback, though he makes an effort to sound earnest.

The princess scoffs and takes a swig of ale. She rises to her feet.

“I am full.” she declares, signaling an end to the meal and perhaps to their conversation. Jaenara stands and walks the length of the table, drawing near to the door but coming close to Aemond.

That strikes a chord within the prince, “You are about as stubborn as a damn mule,” he mutters under his breath.

The retort is not lost upon the princess’ ears. Jaenara spun around abruptly, facing her uncle where he was currently still seated. "Excuse me?" she exclaimed incredulously.

"Damn it," Aemond whispered to himself, closing his eyes briefly. 

“And here I thought you were being truthful yesterday when you said you no longer meant to belittle me.” She bites.

Some unseen force compelled Aemond onward. He reached out and gently but firmly grasped his niece's wrist.

"I only meant..." He struggled to find the right words. "Gods, you're infuriating."

Jaenara felt a stirring within her at his touch, but she pushed the sensation aside, focusing instead on his words. "I’m infuriating?" 

Now, Aemond raises his voice. “Yes! Infuriating. I am making a sincere effort to get to know you, and I am met with nothing but resistance. There is nothing we can do to change the marriage we will soon find ourselves in,” He rises from his chair, hand still gripped around Jaenara, “but I am making a sincere attempt to make it more bearable. For you.”

A part of Aemond understood that his words were primarily to uphold a facade, to maintain the illusion of feigned interest in his niece. Yet another part of him recognized sincerity in his sentiments. He couldn't help but feel pity for Jaenara. This thought had crossed his mind repeatedly—in the quiet of his chambers, in the stillness of the night, and even yesterday as he watched her depart from the estate gardens. She had undoubtedly drawn the short straw amidst their betrothal.

Jaenara Velaryon was being forced to marry Aemond, a scarred and flawed second son by his own reckoning. While Aemond had initially perceived the proposal of marriage to his own bastard niece as an insult, he couldn't deny the faint attraction he harbored towards her— a sentiment he was certain she did not reciprocate. 

The princess regarded her uncle with a peculiar mix of curiosity and contemplation, allowing his words to sink in. Jaenara's relationship with her uncle had always been incredibly strained — tense. Yet, as she observed the furrow in his brow and the genuine anguish in his eyes, she sensed a truth in his earnest plea. She reflected on her initial hopes—that they might spend their lives avoiding each other, barely exchanging words. Yet, standing before him now, she reconsidered. If Aemond—of all people—could muster some semblance of kindness, however feigned, Jaenara resolved she could reciprocate. Even if it was nothing but a lie. 

For in the convoluted dance of courtly alliances and familial expectations, sometimes even the semblance of civility could hold more weight than honesty in securing fragile peace.

With hesitant resolve, she reached out, gently clasping his hand in hers. Aemond feels goosebumps form on his skin from the additional contact. 

"Aemond," she began quietly, meeting his gaze squarely. He makes an effort to memorize how his name sounds on her lips.

Gods be damned, he thought. 

"I apologize. I hadn't fully appreciated your efforts. You are right. For this marriage to have any chance of contentment and peace, we must find common ground. We must make an effort to get to know each other."

The princess finished her apology, her words hanging in the air between them. All Aemond could manage in response was a silent nod, fearing that his mouth would betray him if he were to open it.

Jaenara withdrew her hand from his with a slight hesitation. "Well…I should be going. I intend to meet with my mother to discuss our impending wedding. There is much to plan," she added, her voice faltering slightly as she hurried out of the room.

Aemond stood there, taking a deep breath to calm his racing heart. He glanced down at the hand that had briefly held his niece's, flexing his fingers thoughtfully, a mixture of uncertainty and determination swirling within him.

A/N: As you may have noticed, this chapter is structured a little differently! I decided to make these changes for narrative purposes/so everything flows better. Because of this, I will be revising the previous two chapters, so the next chapter may take a little longer to come out (I also have a job interview coming up, so I will be doing a lot more than just brainstorming and writing now T-T) Anyways! As always, thank you for reading :)

Tags: @toodlesxcuddles

[lovrre]

-All’s fair in love and war

Prt1. Jacaerys velaryon x fem black Targaryen

Word count: 2k

Summary: Daughter of Daemon, twin to Baela, you always felt like an outsider, too much like your father yet somehow simultaneously not enough. You thought you had no place until Jacaerys, years later, and a injured wrist brings you back to where you truly belong.

Warnings: maybe a curse word, lots of Angst, slow burn,probably some other stuff…

Author note: this will be a series, don’t worry I won’t take forever. (I’ll try) there will be smut in the later parts, a little she fell first her fell harder and ofc yearning touch deprived Jacaerys 🫦

From a young age, you could sense the rift between you and your twin sister Baela. Despite sharing the same womb, your differences were stark. She and Rhaena shared a bond that you could never quite penetrate. It was not their doing, but rather your own fiery spirit that kept you at a distance. Your mother's gentle nature was reflected in them, while you inherited your father's boldness. Though your mother's love was unwavering, you couldn't shake the feeling that a part of her resented your wild ways. Your father's favoritism of you only widened the gap between you and your sister as you grew older.

After your mother's passing, all your unpleasant behaviors seemed to amplify. You became withdrawn, even as a child. harboring anger towards the world and all within it. It felt like you could never live up to anyone's standards. unintentionally Chaos and drama seemed to follow you wherever you went. As you matured, you chose solitude, spending most days flying on your dragon, immersed in books, or reluctantly sparring with your father. With the looming threat of war, you were made to train relentlessly, often multiple times a day. Your father pushed you to practice at odd hours, in the dead of night and early morning. Over time, your body wearied from the constant exertion.

“Again“ Daemon's demand echoed as you swiftly advanced, sword aimed at his exposed chest plate. In a flash, he deflected your strike, the clash of steel ringing out. The force caused you to almost drop your sword, he was not holding back. "Again!" he roared, lunging forward to meet your blade once more. As you staggered back, your wrist throbbing from the impact, your father's eyes gleamed with sadistic excitement. determination etched on your face. Your father's blade comes down towards you, but you manage to defend against it, the sound of iron scraping filling the room. 

With all your might, you push him away stumbling back, a sharp pain shot through your wrist, a soundless crack signaling the injury. With a loud clatter of your sword falling to the ground."I am finished," you declare, with an unreadable expression on your face, as you begin removing your armor.

Daemon's gaze hardened at the sound of your sword falling to the ground. "You are finished when I say you are," he commands, pointing his sword at your discarded one. "Pick it up." "Even if I attempted, I wouldn't be able to," you reply, continuing to remove your armor swiftly and carefully. "I am finished for the day," you state, dropping the last piece of armor as you head towards the exit. Your father calls out for you but you ignore him. "Go pester Baela and Rhaena with your training," you mutter angrily, rubbing just below your wrist as you make your way to your room.

“What is the matter” your sister asked worried as you rushed through the hall to your room holding your wrist. tears welling in your eyes involuntarily due to the pain. “Nothing,” you say attempting to walk past her She blocked your path, stepping in front of you to inspect your hand.  "I can see that something troubles you. Let me assist-" Baela began, reaching out to you. "I have no need of your aid!" you shouted, pulling away from her touch before continuing to your room. The words hung heavy in the air as regret washed over you remembering the look of hurt and shock on her face. Jacaerys observed from afar before he made his way towards Baela to provide solace.

"I only-" she began, then let out a weary sigh.

"I know," Jacaerys murmured, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze. "She becomes more unbearable with each passing moment," he grumbled. “I shall speak to her," he declared, feeling a simmering aggravation building up inside him. "Do not," Baela implored. "I do not desire further conflict," she added. 

“It is fine, Jacaerys,” Baela insisted, noticing the lingering frustration on his face. “I am alright,” she said with a comforting smile. “I will leave it,” he replied with a forced smile. “Thank you,” Baela said before turning away, leaving Jacaerys in the corridor, his mind still troubled by the encounter. He made his way to your chambers.

As he approached the entrance to your chamber, the sound of your agonized cry reverberated through the corridors. Startled, he rushed inside to find you collapsed on the ground, surrounded by your gown as you writhed in pain and sorrow, too engrossed in your torment to acknowledge his presence. Never before had he seen you weep, not even in your youth; until this moment, he believed you incapable of shedding tears. "I shall fetch your father," Jacaerys offered, turning to leave. "No!" you cried out, vehemently shaking your head. "Do not send for my father," you insisted, tears shimmering on your cheeks. "I am merely overreacting," you declared, attempting to stand before sinking back down. Jacaerys promptly rushed to your side, lifting you up by your waist.

"What has happened?" He inquired, his brow furrowed as he gazed upon your condition. You look physically pained, your usually glowing skin now dull, your eyes weak. “I was sparring with my father," you gasped, trying to maintain composure in your voice.  The pain was unlike anything you had ever felt before throbbing relentlessly throughout your arm."My hand took a blow, but that is all." you muttered, disoriented as you recoiled from Jacaerys' touch. "I am unharmed," you declared, rising to your feet unaided. He remained close behind, ready to catch you should you stumble once more. "You do not appear well," he noted, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead, damp with sweat.

Your handmaiden entered the room, her face filled with alarm as she took in the sight before her. "She has injured herself," Jacaerys interjected on your behalf, dropping his hand. "I am well Naera," you insisted, your eyelids growing heavy. "You are not," he countered, his gaze fixed on you. "Bring a splint and bandages," he ordered the handmaiden, prompting her to hasten out of the room. “ I think it is broken” hemumbled examining your arm.

"Jacaerys," you muttered, catching his attention. "Do not tell my father," you managed before succumbing to the pain. Jacaerys was there to catch you as you fell into his arms, your head falling into the crook of his neck. Jacaerys carefully laid you on your bed, marveling at your beauty even in your unconscious state. It had been a long time since he had been in such close proximity to you. You had grown so much, he wondered if you had noticed his own newfound maturity. After ensuring that your arm was properly splinted and a wet rag was on your forehead, he prepared to depart. "I can take it from here," Naera declared, assuming control of the task. Jacaerys nodded, but hesitated, his gaze fixed on you as you slept. "Do not trouble yourself with informing Daemon, I will handle it," Naera stated calmly. "She mentioned that-"

  "I am aware," she confirmed with a nod. "Though Veerah is prone to fever, she will need a healer," Naera said as she wrung out another rag to place on your chest. Jacaerys nodded in understanding. "I will take the responsibility when she asks," Naera said with a reassuring smile. "I am grateful for that," Jacaerys replied with a slight smile before turning to depart. "She may not admit it, but she does enjoy company," Naera stated. "Her exterior is hard but her heart is soft," she added with a smile. Jacaerys nodded in understanding before taking his leave.

That night, as Jacaerys retired to his chambers, your memory consumed his thoughts in a way he had never experienced before. He found himself dwelling on the comfort of your presence in his arms, and the scent of you was like a revelation, awakening a desire he never knew existed. The sound of his name on your lips echoed in his mind, stirring emotions he had long forgotten. It had been years since they had exchanged more than a few words, and Jacaerys realized how much he longed for your company. Seeing this new vulnerable side of you sparked a curiosity within him, leaving him to wonder what other secrets you held

~~~

“Again!” you command with a chuckle as young Jacaerys pointed his wooden sword at you. He rushed towards you and you parried his attack, causing your wooden swords to clash. You step back and swing, knocking his sword out of his hand. "I've won, yet again," you declare proudly. "I let you win," young Jacaerys grumbled as he retrieved his sword. "Well then, you should let me lose some time," you jest. "You're the only girl I know who enjoys playing knights," Jacaerys remarks as he sits back on a large rock. "Is that strange?" you inquire uncertainly, joining him on the rock. Jacaerys shakes his head in disagreement. "I don't think so," he replies. "My mother once told me that she went on a hunt, something people say only men do," Jacaerys says, playing with his sword at his side. "I hope one day I can hunt too," you say, gazing into the distance. "We can hunt together," Jacaerys suggests, hopping off the rock and playfully hitting the sword by your side in hopes of provoking a fight. You laugh at his actions. "Try to win this time."

“How many more stones?" young Jacaerys panted, dropping an armful into the pile. "need help?" you chuckle as you place another rock onto the small castle foundation you two were building. "Not at all, I was just curious," he quipped. "Though in my head, I did not expect this to take so many days," Young Jacaerys stated, wiping dirt on his clothes. "Two days is not so many," you reply, placing down another rock. "My father said hard work breeds good results, and we want to build a great empire," you say, wiping the dirt from your hands.  “We could ask Baela and Rhaena to help” young Jacaerys suggested with a smile. You shake your head in disagreement, “they wouldn’t not like this play, too much dirt” you state looking down at your dirt covered hands. “Is that why you play with me?” Jacaerys inquired with a smile. “Yes, and you are useful when I need help with heavier stones” you joke causing the two of you to laugh. 

“We should construct a bridge for the people to cross," Jacaerys proposed. "Indeed! And we shall station guards at the entrance," you chimed in enthusiastically. “Though that means more work,” you say looking over at Jacaerys. “I believe we can do it,” Jacaerys says with a smile. The two of you took turns laying the foundation of your fortress and sent the other to gather the necessary Materials.

After an hour, you both stepped back to admire your progress. A stone hut made of mud and rocks stood before you, nearly complete. "Tomorrow we shall address the roof," you declared, brushing dirt from your hands onto your gown. "We must christen our realm," Jacaerys declared, eyeing the unfinished castle surrounded by picked flowers. "The Kingdom of Drangea," he announced. "Drangea?" you questioned. "Like dragon?" you inquired, puzzled. "No, like hydrangea, your favorite flower," he clarified, watching for your reaction. You appreciate the gesture but still shrugged.

 "I like it, but the Kingdom of Dragons sounds more formidable, a name befitting a ruthless empire." 

"What about Drangea, Kingdom of Dragons?" Jacaerys proposed. "That is a name befitting of a realm," you concurred, selecting a small, jagged stone. With a piece of timber that had been halved, you etched the name onto it. "It is now official," you declared, stepping back to admire it. "If this is our kingdom, then I am the king and you are the queen," Jacaerys proclaimed. Your heart raced in your chest, "I suppose," you replied with a hesitant smile. Sensing your uncertainty, young Jacaerys amended, "The king and queen do not need to be wed -" Jacaerys started, but you cut him off. "We lack crowns," you reassured him with a smile. "The king and queen must have a crown," you furrowed your brow, "tomorrow” Jacaerys stated with a smile. 

~~~~

Seated by the window, a book in hand, your wrist tightly bound in a splint, your eyes gazed outside, lost in thought. For three days, you had been confined to your chamber, sipping on herbal soup and engrossed in a tale of a woman's demise from infection, It was not a very uplifting read. Jacaerys and your sisters attempted to visit, but you dismissed them. "He's not there," Naera's voice resonated as she brought in another bowl of soup. "He's out riding."

"I have no words for you," you replied, turning away to look out the window. "I would rather face your anger than see you fall to fever," she argued. “Where have you been? You know he forbade me to ride?" you questioned, feeling a surge of anger. “He has worked me to the point of exhaustion, shattered my wrist, and then casted me off to die like a horse with a broken leg” you huff. "Could you even mount in your current state?" Naera inquired. "Think of Luke," she proposed.

"That was a unique circumstance," you declared solemnly. "Completely different. Luke was murdered," you affirmed. "Others have ridden in worse conditions safely. We are in the midst of a war, and I cannot ride a dragon," you grumbled, staring out the window.

"I believe your sister Rhaena shares similar sentiments,” she remarked, placing your bowl down. Your brow furrowed in confusion. "Whose side are you on?" you asked, puzzled.

"Yours, always," Naera replied, settling on your futon. "I just worry about how others perceive you," she explained.

“Why?” you questioned, walking over to your bookcase. “They pay me no mind,” you stated, swapping one book for another.

“How can you be sure, when you barely interact with them?” Naera prodded.

"If you're here to lecture me, you can leave. My father has already done so," you retorted aggravated pointing towards the door.

"I apologize," Naera sighed. "I only want what's best for you," she added, fiddling with a book on your futon. "On a brighter note, Jacaerys seemed quite eager to follow your instruction."

"Did he?" You asked, feigning disinterest. "Yes, and he lingered a while after you passed out Naera replied. 

Later that evening You lay in bed, gazing up at the ceiling, unable to find rest due to the agony in your arm and the relentless thoughts swirling in your mind. No matter how hard you tried to push away the worry, it lingered every night, leaving you feeling utterly helpless. To be maimed in the midst of a war was the last thing you desired. Although you were not entirely incapacitated, it felt as though you were. You were forced to remain idle while your kin risked their lives for a cause you would willingly sacrifice yourself for. Their names would be immortalized in history, while you could only watch, all because your father had worked you like a beast for a war you could no longer partake in.

Naera had recounted tales of a mysterious healer, a witch of sorts, who dwelled in her former village. Whispers of her miraculous abilities to ward off death and bless the land with abundance had reached you. If she could breathe life into withered crops, perhaps she could mend your shattered arm, or at the very least, alleviate the pain enough for you to wield a sword once more. It was a reckless gamble, but one you were willing to take.

You rose from your bed and donned the simplest of garments, a difficult task for one who takes such pride in their attire. Gathering a handful of coins hidden beneath the floorboards, you hesitated before opting to take the entire pouch. Pulling up the hood of your shawl, you exited your chambers. Stealthily and silently, you navigated through the manse. As you traversed a corridor, the sound of approaching footsteps caught your attention. Hastily, you turned and slipped into a doorway, inadvertently knocking over a small metal statue with your foot. Cursing under your breath, you pressed your body against the door, hoping to remain unseen. "Who there?" Jacaerys's voice echoed down the hall.

You remained motionless, barely drawing breath, your heart pounding in your chest. You listened as his heavy footsteps drew nearer and nearer. Only catching a glimpse of the back of his head, you observed as Jacaerys strode down the corridor in search of the source of the disturbance. He cast one final glance before turning and exiting the hall. You remained still for a time, ensuring it was safe. Once you were certain he had departed, you ventured to the cave where your dragon lay. Taking hold of a torch that lit your path as you made your way to your beast.

you creeped forward beckoning for her, "Qamar," you whispered, rousing her from her slumber at the sound of your voice. "Qamar, it is Veerah," you called out once more. You heard her emit two loud huffs, lifting her weary head as she approached the torchlight. "Awake," you stated before her large blue nostrils became visible in the light's haze as she sniffed the air. "I have missed you," you confess with a smile, caressing her face with the same tenderness and compassion you had shown her when she was just a youngling.

Y/n?" Jacaerys called out from behind you, causing your heart to sink. "You followed me?" You questioned angrily turning to face him. "Rightfully so it seems, you are not planning to ride?" he asked looking over your shoulder at your Dragon. "And if I am?" you challenged. "If you were, I would tell you that it is a certain path to demise," Jacaerys retorted seriously, moving closer. "my actions do not concern you," you declared, pulling off your hood. Even in the dim light, Jacaerys couldn't help but notice how beautiful you were. 

"Where are you going?" Jacaerys inquired as you circled the dragon, with him following closely behind.  "Once again, that is none of your concern," you stated, tightening the saddle straps on Qamar. "I will not let you to leave," Jacaerys declared as he watched you attempt to mount your dragon

"You do not let me to do anything," you State before your hand was overcome with a searing pain, causing you to lose your grip on the reins. Fortunately, you fell into Jacaerys' arms, his chest heaving with concern as he gently lowered you to the ground. You open your mouth to speak but he beats you to it. 

"How much further do you think you'll get?" Jacaerys interjected, his voice a blend of concern and frustration. 

“I do no-“

"How much further do you think you'll get in the dead of night with a broken wrist and no one to aid you?" Jacaerys questioned, his eyes filled with a seriousness that you had never witnessed before, and it suited him well. 

“Far, I reckon ” you jest, provoking a surge of anger in Jacaerys. “I am serious y/n, Do you seek death?” He inquired sternly, his eyes fixed on you. “You cannot deter me, I have made my decision,” you say meeting his gaze with unwavering determination. “I will not stand by as you all risk your lives.” you state. “What of your life?” Jacaerys asked, “Am I to sit Idly by as you risk your own?”

“Yes, you are, you are to watch as you have always. do not feign friendship now Jacaerys," you pause. "My affairs are my own, they do not concern you," you state before checking the security of the saddle once more. 

"I will inform your father," Jacaerys states gravely, causing you to turn and look at him in disbelief. "You would not dare," you challenge. "Oh, but I would," Jacaerys states firmly a smile playing on his lips. "Or I can assist you," he offers. "I do not require your assistance” You bluntly reply. "Those are your choices" he reminds.

~~~~

Seated on the cold stone floor of your unfinished castle, you meticulously added leaves to the crown in your hands. The crowns, one for you and one for Jacaerys had been your labor since morning. Your fingers ached with fatigue as you continued to weave, but the image of his smile spurred you on. You hoped that by the time you finished, you would have gathered enough courage to correctly express your feelings to Jacaerys. Your mother had often read to you tales of young love and innocent crushes where rejection was inconsequential in the world of children's books. You hoped for real life to mirror those stories. Expressing emotions, even pain, was a challenge for you, it always left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. As you secured the final stem beneath the others, you raised your weary head to gaze at the sky, now painted in hues of orange. Time had slipped away from you, and you had anticipated Jacaerys's arrival by now. Yet, he had not shown up, leaving you alone with the completed crowns of flowers and leaves. you debated venturing out to search for him. Yet, there was a part of you that was certain he would come, so you decided to wait.

You remained in that unfinished castle until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon. The darkness enveloped the outside world, and only then did you rise, brushing the dirt and grime off your dress. The woven crowns remained tightly clutched in your hand as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Wiping them away, you left the stone hut and made your way through the corridor of the home, your mind racing with reasons for his absence. "Veerah!" Naera's voice called out to you. She was younger than at the age of ten and five. her sympathetic eyes looking down at you covered in dirt. "What's wrong?" she asked, wiping the dirt from your cheeks with her thumb. "I'm fine," you replied, pushing her hand away. "Have you seen Jacaerys?" you questioned, causing Naera to tense. "Did something happen to him?" you asked worried, making Naera shake her head. "No, Jacaerys is fine," she assured, instantly bringing a smile back to your face "Where is he then?" you asked trying to contain your excitement as you squeezed the woven crowns in your hands.

 “He is in the drawing room,” Naera says with a sad smile gesturing to the door. You smile completely unaware approaching the door. You push it open slightly to see, young Jacaerys standing with his chest up, wooden sword pointed to the ceiling. “I will save you my queen” he announced Charging forward. Causing your sister Baela to fall back with a giggle, in her perfect princess dress “You have to get through me first!”  your little sister Rhaena declared pretending to blow fire from her mouth. Young Jacaerys pretends to slay her with his wooden sword causing your Baela to run into his arms. “Thank you, brave knight,” she says leaving him a kiss on his cheek. In this story, Jacaerys was a knight, Baela a princess, and Rhaena a dragon. And what were you? Nothing, the fool. 

Never in your life before had you felt so embarrassed, embarrassed that you believed even for a moment someone would pick you. Dropping the crowns on the floor you left and never spoke of it again. Never again did you acknowledge you and Jacaerys past friendship, you barely acknowledge him. You spent the next six years focusing on yourself and yourself only.

~~~

You both sat in the back of a carriage, facing each other, packed like stowaways as the carriage jolted along the rough path. "You appear improved, how are you feeling?" Etwa asked, looking at you. "Do not feel pressured to speak," you said bluntly, attempting to silence him. “you are the only person I know who remains in a perpetual state of unhappy" Jacaerys declared, gazing at you with a perplexed expression. "Then you have not encountered enough people," you retorted plainly, resuming your silence. focusing on the sound of the creaking carriage wheels on the road. 

"I did not inform your father, if that is why…," Jacaerys commented, attempting to break the silence. “I was made aware,” you declare with a tight lipped smile. The silence did not last long as he resumed speaking. “However… if your health were to not improve I might have considered-”

"Are you always so?" you asked, irritation rising within you. "So what?" Jacaerys inquired, puzzled. "Annoying," you stated bluntly. He surrendered, releasing a sigh and reclining back against the wall, clasping his hands in his lap. The moment he ceased speaking, you secretly hoped he would continue. Yet, you also enjoyed the sight of defeat in his expression. You were unwell, and you were aware of it. Your interactions with Jacaerys felt like a constant struggle within yourself, even when you meant to speak kindly, only harsh words escaped your lips.

Author note : GUYS FEEL FREE TO COMMENT I LOVE READING COMMENTS

[sylvies-chen]

I think the focus on the firstborn sons this episode was really interesting as well because jacaerys and rhaenyra’s relationship reaches a point of tension in this episode for… probably the first time ever? and yet it contrasts so beautifully to the discussion between aegon and alicent.

jace is argumentative when his mother comes back, and he does make some bold statements for someone talking to a queen in front of her court. still, it comes from a place of love and worry, and that pervades in everything he says. his concern as to where she was, his refusal to let her go into battle. and rhaneyra did leave him and baela hanging for a bit! some tension is natural! this is someone who just loves their mother and wants so badly for everything to go right. rhaenyra of course holds her ground to shut down his boldness, but she does so in a very diplomatic way. then she pulls him aside to tell him about the song of ice and fire almost right afterwards. like emma d’arcy said, this is rhaneyra enfranchising him as her heir, but it’s also her showing him the respect of an equal. and visually it’s beautiful. she’s holding his hand as a sign of love and intimacy, they’re lit so beautifully with the light beaming down on them to show their potential and rightfulness as leaders, she’s doing it in front of a dragon skull like how her father did with her in the name of preserving tradition. it’s very succinct, very respectful, very loving.

then almost immediately before that, aegon ii and alicent have a discussion. aegon’s complaining that none of the council members respect him, and of course alicent can only view this as whining. she shuts him down as rhaenyra did jace, except without dignity and respect. alicent is lost. her beliefs are crashing and she really doesn’t know where her place is in all of this anymore, only that she caused this, so it leaves her with quite a bitter looseness. she disrespects him, calls him thoughtless, and when he reminds her that he is king, it kind of means nothing to her. I do believe she loves her children, but she treats them (especially aegon) the way she always has: as pawns. if the love is there, it isn’t shown. she says all kinds of blasphemous things about her king and then, instead of affirming his worth like rhaenyra did jace, she tells him he’s only a seat on a throne, that he’s worthless, that essentially it was never about wanting him on there, but about not wanting rhaenyra there (an idea conditioned into her by her father). all while they’re sitting an entire table’s length apart— not to mention that they go on to shatter various things in this episode. that’s the crux of it really: alicent and her children are dysfunctional, shattered and loveless where rhaenyra and her children are functional, united and loved.

I don’t know. there’s that dumbledore quote that goes “do not pity the dead, pity the living. and above all else, pity those who live without love.” to me, that’s the epitome of the greens. they might have known honour and compassion had they first known healthy love.

[queenvhagar]

Instead of trying so hard to make fans think of Daenerys when they see Rhaenyra, they should have tried to insert a bit of Daenerys into every Targaryen character.

Right now it's obvious the show is trying to make Rhaenyra a Dany 2.0 and doing everything they can to link this one character to Daenerys. The amount of scenes she gets with her dragon, the idea that Syrax's eggs are somehow Daenerys' dragons and it's thanks to Rhaenyra that dragons live on... likely all due to the writers seeing "dragonriding ruling queen" for both characters and then really overly forcing the connection at all costs even if it doesn't always quite fit.

What I would have preferred is to see all of Daenerys' ancestors within her and her in them. Show all of their connections to their dragons and their joy in flying. Show all of them as quick to anger and slow to forgive. Show all of them believing in the power and superiority of their dragon blood and the inherent right of their family to rule. Show all of them willing to use fire and blood to avenge what they see as injustices and being ruthless in their pursuit of that justice. Show me how each of these characters are as Targaryen as the next and how absolutely tragic it is that within this so similar family they only saw their own differences and their own ambitions, leading to them destroying themselves and the dragons that they loved so much and that gave them so much power.

All of this means not leaning so hard on showing Rhaenyra as just like Daenerys, but showing Dany's traits in the others. Show Helaena finding freedom, power, and independence on dragonback and savoring her strong bond with Dreamfyre, which comes more easily to her as an autistic woman surrounded by people playing the unspoken game of thrones around her. Show Aegon on Sunfyre after the coronation as he wears the conqueror's crown and reminds the people of his ancestral Targaryen power and right to rule. Show their children and their hatchlings. Let Baela have her own opinions apart from her betrothed and his mother and let her be bold in expressing them. Let Rhaena learn the importance of politicking and soft power in ruling and gaining allies and the balance between hard and soft power, and let the moment she hatches Morning at the end of the war be a melancholic moment, as she finally has a dragon but now is alone in this fact as one of the last living Targaryens.

We should be able to see traces of Daenerys in all of these Targaryens, and choosing just one to try to emulate Daenerys over all the others is a misstep and minimizes the impact of this story as a dynastic civil war of a family destroying itself.

[aesteries]

⋆✴︎˚。⋆ ─ ❝sweetling❞ ─ aemond targaryen and original female character. ❝alicent hightower's youngest daughter, haera targaryen, has returned to king's landing after eight long years in old town and aemond finds himself inexplicably drawn to the girl kissed by the moon and with the eyes that seem to only look at him.❞

how could i not love eyes that see me in all my forms as beautiful?

〔incest, innocence and fantasies, fluff and romance, smut, virginity, events of blood and cheese, family rivalry, disabled main character, hints of book!aemond, modified show!timeline and events.〕

words: 6.6k series' masterlist.

                 CHAPTER 2. 

Court affairs often put him to sleep, hours of incessant complaints and requests from worthless high-born lords and ladies who wanted more than they deserved, but not today. What was unfolding before his healthy eye was just too gripping to ignore, and for once, he thanked the gods that he did not fake an illness to miss the spectacle. His half-sister, Rhaenyra, had been bold enough to bring her illegitimate children to the Red Keep to stake their claim on Driftmark. She was demanding to recognise her second son’s legitimacy, placing him as his apparent father’s heir, amidst opposition from Vaemond Velaryon, who argues that the title belonged to him instead. Many lords in the room nodded in secret agreement with Vaemond's reasonable demand, yet Rhaenyra refused to back down, her determination palpable.

The sudden boom of the throne room doors echoed throughout the chamber as they parted, a loud announcement of the King’s arrival snapping everyone back to reality. Glancing to his side, he saw his siblings straightening up, eyes fixed on their father, King Viserys, as he struggled down the stairs with his body curved over himself. Haera, ever the dutiful daughter, had perked up at the mention of her father’s name, but her clouded vision refused to settle over the fragile man as he began his laboured progress toward the throne. 

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.”

The room sank into silence, a deafening sound as all eyes focused on the King's pathetic frame. The status of his health was known, but to witness his decay was a shock to everyone, and even the unflappable Otto Hightower had concern etched all over his face, though it did not seem quite genuine as he scrambled out of the throne he had been keeping warm. The air was heavy with tension as the King's slow, agonising approach to the throne seemed to take an eternity, pain burning up his skin with every step.

He trudged up the steps toward the Iron Throne, pridefully waving off the guards' offers of assistance as he stumbled, his legs trembling beneath him. In his struggle and exhaustion, the crown that dangerously balanced over his balding head slipped and fell to the granite floor with a shattering clank of metal. Aemond’s eye locked on the back of his uncle’s head as the man was the only one to act, guiding his older brother on the final few steps and placing the crown on his head. 

“I do not understand,” King Viserys’s voice was frail, breathless as he spoke, “why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

The sight of the bastard-born boy, with his head of brown locks and the whiteness of his skin standing between the rich tones of the Velaryons, triggered a low laugh from the prince’s lips, earning a side glance from his mother. The air in the throne room was thick, an obvious buzz of energy flowing between the Targaryen royalty. 

“As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corly’s granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena.” Princess Rhaenys’s tone was firm and confident: “A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Suddenly, as if he had finally heard something that interested him, King Viserys’ eyes snapped to attention, rising on his seat as if the weight of his crown had been redistributed to him with full health. The left side of his face, that side that was uncovered by the mask, twisted into a smile of cracked lips. “Very well…” His voice filled the space with anticipation, his tired eyes darting around the faces of his family. "However, I have a say in the matter of the betrothal of my grandson, Prince Lucerys.”

Aemond’s gaze drifted to his half-sister, who was already watching them with an air of confidence, a smirk on her lips with a subtle challenge. Her piercing glare seemed to dare him, to provoke him, to let him know that she knew something that he did not. His stomach twisted into knots, and he suddenly felt the ghost of a noose around his neck.

"I believe in the continued union of our families, those with the blood of Old Valyria," the king declared, his voice echoing through the hall. "And therefore, I have decided to unite my youngest daughter, Princess Haera Targaryen, to Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon, the rightful heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the future Lord of the Tides."

The young prince’s world was shattered, like that night when he claimed Vhagar, the remnants of untouched innocence finally scattering over the floor for everyone to see. His despair must have been that obvious, as Aegon’s worries were evident when he turned to glance at him. Aemond remained statue-still, his gaze fixed on the back of Haera's head as she stood rigidly, flanked by Helaena and their mother. Alicent's grip on the young girl's wrist was like a vice, a desperate attempt to prevent them from tearing her away, her knuckles white with tension.

Aemond’s heartbreak was soon replaced by a raging fire, like Vhagar’s fire, that consumed his every thought as his eye daggered Lucerys Velaryon, who in return dared to challenge him with a subtle nod. Any outburst in the King’s presence would be suicidal, his wrath barely contained as his hand lingered on the hilt of his sword. He was all too familiar with the King's blind devotion to Rhaenyra and her brood, and he knew his powerlessness against it. Perhaps he could take her and rescue her from the toxicity of the court, where her innocence was being sullied by the very presence of the Strong bastards. He recalled the day Lucerys had slashed him, the resentment still festering like an open wound. In this moment, Aemond felt trapped, forced to endure the insolence of his nemesis.

It was only when gentle warmth had wrapped around his fingers that he was brought back to the present from his deadly fantasies. He looked down to find Haera’s tearful eyes welling up with crystal tears, her mind consumed by her future. The quivering of her lips fed the fire in the pit of his stomach. She was likely aware of the implications of their union, of the dark legacy they would pass on to their children, a heritage shrouded in deceit and tainted by the lies that had defined their past. She was meant to clean Lucery’s dirtied Valyrian blood with their union.

Time stopped for them as they gazed into each other’s eyes, the gentle flutter of her white eyelashes betraying the warmth of her adoration. He knew, deep down, that he and she were meant to be; it transcended tradition. It was fate; it was the will of the gods—they made her just for him, everything that he was not. Even if she were to stand before the altar, before that naive boy to exchange vows, Aemond was resolute; he would set things right. His sweetling would not be made to suffer for the mistakes of others. He would move heaven and earth to ensure her freedom from the shackles of injustice, no matter the cost.

A sudden scream cut their moment short.

Aemond’s mind was reeling, struggling to comprehend just what was unfolding before him as the two of them snapped out of their trance that had drowned out the inheritance hearing. Daemon Targaryen’s sword sliced through the air with a swift swing, decapitating Vaemond Velaryon with a deadly motion. In the aftermath of the violence, as the body began to spill over the floor, Haera instinctively wrapped her arms around his middle for protection. He enveloped her tightly, his hand on the back of her head as he held her close to his chest. The feeling of her slender frame pressed against him and his arms cradling her felt surprisingly natural, out of a dream. It was a gesture that brought a sense of calm to the chaos surrounding them; it grounded them, a fleeting moment of solace in the face of Daemon's ferocity.

His heart was racing as he clutched her. It was where she belonged: sheltered in his embrace, secured in his grasp, shielded by his unwavering protection. The half-sister’s eyes were fixed on the pair, intense with the fire of the dragon, her mind reeling with the plan she had put in place. A brother consumed by his passion and a sister who reciprocated those feelings, now a forbidden romance. She felt the danger in the pit of her stomach, not for her claim to the throne but for the future of her second-born son. Persuading her father to accept the match had been easy, serving the young prince an opportunity on a silver platter. Lucerys saw the two Targaryens lost in their own world, and he saw a challenge. 

The air was heavy with tension, thick with the weight of forbidden love and the ominous foreshadowing of strife to come.

The day after the disastrous inheritance hearing, the sun cast a gentle glow on the beautiful gardens of the Red Keep, its rays illuminating the many flowers that adorned the greenery. As she strolled through, a soft breeze caressed her face and tangled her hair, pulling the strands from the intricate braids her ladies had crafted. Yet she was overwhelmed by anxiety and a sense of unease that had settled in her stomach. The company, she was convinced, was to blame for her discomfort. Her mother’s encouragement still echoed fresh in her mind, and she would not let her down even if she had missed the worry behind the Queen’s forced smile.

Lucerys Velaryon had appeared outside the Queen’s chambers; his arm extended in invitation as a way to formally begin courting his promised princess. The young man possessed an unusual charm, an air of innocence one moment, and a sharp tongue the next. Within mere minutes of their stroll, he had dropped too many complaints for her comfort, criticising the alterations to the Red Keep, the gardens, and even the maids’ outfits. The food, as well, was apparently not to his liking, and she found herself on edge, bracing for the next critique to tumble from his lips.

Lucerys droned on about the dragonpit or something about dragons, but her mind had drifted to some of the times she had taken strolls around the garden. Aemond cherished their shared moments. He never complained, never interrupted her, and listened to her. She recalled how he would gently hold her hand over the cracked stones, ensuring she didn't trip and fall. He'd pluck flowers from the nearby bushes, presenting them to her so she could marvel at their beauty up close. In those quiet moments, Aemond always reminded her that she possessed a beauty that rivalled the flowers, making her feel treasured and unique.

As she stood beside her betrothed, Lucerys, her eyes widened in stark realization. Her thoughts strayed back to Aemond as if her mind were trying to escape the present.

The one-eyed prince lingered in the darkness, fixed on every step they took. The torches cast long shadows over him, clouding him from their sight and helping him blend into the darkness with his black leather. His mother had attempted to stop him, claiming that it was for her own good, but he refused to abandon her, especially since she was to be alone with that bastard and Gods knew what he could be capable of. She looked radiant, shining like jewels even under the weak sunlight, clad in an exquisite silk dress with delicate lace patterns. Her beauty, so pure, made his heart ache with jealousy, seeing how her beauty was being wasted on Lucerys when it should be reserved for him alone.

“I was wondering,” Lucerys’ voice finally directed at her shook her from her thoughts. “How come you do not ride your dragon?”

Her brows furrowed, initially confused at his question but realising he had no idea about the tragedy that had befallen her hatchling, Brightfyre, during childhood. The memory of that painful day was still so fresh in her mind, even if she had been too young. It was like an open wound that would never heal, and his question had rubbed salt over it. "My dragon passed away when it was just a hatchling," she explained, her voice laced with a hint of sadness.

As she spoke, Lucerys's face lost its colour, his features contorting into a grimace. "The dragon keepers believed it was due to a malformation during incubation. According to the maesters, I wouldn't have been able to ride for long even if Brightfyre had survived anyways, as my sight would have continued to deteriorate with age.”

She missed the expression, her gaze fixed on the ground as she continued her walk, her footsteps steady and deliberate. Behind her, Lucerys had to consciously relax his facial muscles, shaking off the tension that had built up. Aemond, ever the observer, caught the subtle movement and raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting between the young couple as they strolled through the castle grounds.

“I’m relieved,” she confessed, her tone a stark contrast to the sorrow that had taken over her voice moments ago. “It gives me a sense of freedom, not being bound to one of them... being different from the rest of my family, to make a name for myself and not through my dragon.”

Lucerys's incredulity was palpable as he struggled to comprehend her words. "But you're a Targaryen," he protested, his voice laced with disbelief. "The blood of dragonlords from Old Valyria runs through your veins. Having dragons is the greatest symbol of our power and strength." He couldn't imagine a life without a dragon; it was unthinkable, especially for a Targaryen and for someone like him. Memories of his childhood came flooding back like an aggressive tide of the times he and the others had mercilessly teased Aemond for not having a dragon, only for him to claim the largest one alive. Lucerys swallowed hard, the memory still a bitter pill to swallow, especially when he thought of the Aemond of today.

She halted, her footsteps suddenly heavy on the stone floor, and turned back to him with an unreadable expression etched on her face. "I do not believe that," she said, her voice laced with conviction. "To me, we are more than the blood of dragons.”

Lucerys's response was immediate and firm. "Blood is everything.”

Her eyes, a light shade of purple that no other Targaryen shared, narrowed, and a spark of defiance flashed within them, lighting up like a flame. It was a glint Lucerys had never seen before—a darker, more intense, suffocating as she stepped closer, her shoulders squaring and her chin tilting upward. Lucerys felt a jolt of surprise. The gentle girl he had been introduced to had transformed before his very eyes into someone else. The corner of her lip curled into a faint, mischievous smirk, and for a fleeting moment, Lucerys could have sworn Aemond's spirit had possessed her, imbuing her with his audacity.

Her voice, usually so sweet and feathery, was laced with sarcasm that sent icy cold shivers down Lucery’s spine as she spoke. “Is that so, my prince?” Her tone dripped with irony. “Is your blood that..." Her eyes wandered over his form, her tilted head making it seem that she was speaking down on him. “Strong… that it defines who you are and determines your worth?” The emphasis on the word "strong" was a subtle challenge, a dare to Lucerys to defend his stance.

Aemond smiled to himself, filled to the brim with a sense of satisfaction as he observed the confrontation from his corner, her voice clear as she landed her verbal blow. He couldn't help but feel proud of her, amused by this feisty side of hers that she had never shown. Despite likely dying inside from the weight of her words, she had stood up to Lucerys, refusing to back down. Aemond knew she would learn to defend herself, and their nephew wouldn't easily intimidate her.

Lucerys's face flushed with anger, his ears burning as he understood the hidden message in her words, her intention to offend him clear as day. His nails dug deep into his palms to the point they almost drew blood, a desperate attempt to restrain himself from lashing out and from raising his hand to teach her a lesson about disrespect. He had to find a way to bend her to his will, and despite her venomous words, she had a rather fragile nature, and he was sure that a few swift blows would be enough to shatter her spirit.

“Anything the matter, nephew?” Aemond’s velvety voice halted the conversation between the young prince and princess, as he had made his way out of the darkness and into the light, having decided that they had spent too long together. His voice dripped with superiority, his shoulders tight as he looked down at the boy. 

They turned to face him, eyes wide as they fixed on the intimidating figure with hands clasped behind his back and a smile that froze the prince in place, a smile that seemed to revel in the power it held over others. Lucerys' skin broke out in goosebumps as the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. In stark contrast, Haera’s body reacted differently the moment his calming presence washed over her; tense muscles relaxed, breathing slowed, and calmness took over her.

Lucerys, on the other hand, stumbled over his words, his voice trembling as he tried to find an excuse for their conversation that had taken a disgusting turn, eyes darting towards Haera, who seemed to be the only one immune to Aemond's intimidating aura. The prince's courage, once bold enough to consider striking his future wife, now shrank to the size of a timid rat, cowering in the face of Aemond's dominance.

Aemond turned to address his younger sister, his eye intense with adoration that seemed to suck up all the air around them, to the point Lucerys felt bitter jealousy like a kid watching someone else play with his toy. He could not lose this silent competition over Haera; she was his to claim, announced in front of everyone.

"Our mother has requested your presence," Aemond said, his voice low and husky, like the rustling of leaves in an autumn breeze. "Shall I escort you to her chambers?" He extended his arm, inviting her to take it.

And Haera smiled, the sight so beautiful that it would inspire the finest painters for their masterpieces. She placed her hand on his arm, touching gently and lovingly, and he pulled her away from Lucerys to seethe in silence. As they walked away, Haera's eyes sneakily shifted back to look at the dark-haired prince through a blurred gaze, sparkling like diamonds in candlelight, their secret message clear as day: she knew the game they played, and she would not be swayed. Aemond was the one she wanted, and he was who she was going to get.

The entire family gathered in the grand dining room after the darkness of the night took over the once clear sky, forced out of their chambers to avoid each other since Rhaenyra’s kin arrived. Even the melodic notes of the music could not fill the space between the strained relationships or clear the thick tension of the room as they sat around the table. 

The two sides of the family sat awkwardly in silence until the arrival of the King, carried in by his guards in an ornate chair that allowed him to move with ease. As he was placed in the centre of the gathering, between both sides of the family, Aemond's gaze darted to the far end of the table, where Haera had reluctantly taken her seat beside Lucerys. It had been their mother’s idea, her sullen expression telling him all he needed to know as her pouting lips and folded arms screamed defiance.

The king spoke, his wheezing voice piercing the air, the frail state of his body evident even as he rested in a seated position. He welcomed his heir and her family with genuine warmth between laboured breaths. Aemond’s mind wandered, tuning out the king as he spoke of the importance of family unity. But, as the king began to congratulate the newly formed alliances, he snapped back to the conversation. His stomach churned with disgust as their father praised Lucerys and Haera, his jaw clenched in frustration. He wasn't alone in his sentiment; Aegon, too, seemed put off by the king's flowery words, his eyes fixed on some point beyond the gathering.

Aegon couldn’t contain himself for much longer, pent-up frustration and anger simmering like a pot about to boil. His eyes darted around the room, meeting Haera’s as he looked at the faces of his family. Though her vision was blurry, she could make out the wink he sent her way, tilting his head towards the young prince beside him. 

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman.” He was a master at pushing his buttons. He took great pleasure in witnessing his reactions, his face reddening with each carefully crafted comment that would leave him fuming and frustrated, like a shaky vial of Wildfire ready to explode. “You do know how the act is done, I assume... like, where to put your cock.”

“Let it be, cousin.” Baela did her best to manage the situation before the two boys escalated it. 

However, Aegon continued; this time he addressed her instead, "I... regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer.” The young man gave her a pitiful look; the drunken joke was clear in his amethyst eyes: “But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.”

Everyone was jolted out of their casual chatter as Jace’s fist thundered down on the wooden table, the sound like a crack of lightning, and all eyes darted to the source to find him springing up from his seat. He gave Aegon’s shoulder a tight, almost brutal squeeze but then gave a playful punch to his arm. He then strode around the table with heavy footsteps and offered his hand to Aegon’s sister-wife, Helaena. 

There was a sudden spike in tension, as if there was room for any more, as Jace boldly trespassed into forbidden territory. The King, in agony, remained oblivious to the rift between the members of the royal family, his sentimental gaze fixed on the unfolding drama until his frail health betrayed him, forcing him to be escorted back to his chambers for a dose of much-needed medicine.

The servants emerged from the kitchen with steaming plates of food, momentarily easing the bubbling tension that set over the family, calming their sharp glares at each other. During the bustle, one kind-hearted servant, unaware of the significance of her actions, placed the largest, most impressive plate in front of Aemond—a massive, glistening pig', its beady eyes staring up at him like a haunting spectre from his tormented childhood.

Lucerys did not miss the way Aemond’s gaze shifted momentarily, and he let out a snort, his own dark eyes shining with mockery.

As the room fell silent, Aemond's hand came crashing down on the table to get their attention, the sound echoing through the chambers like a challenge. He rose from his seat with his cup in his hand, holding it up to toast. Everyone turned to face him, their hands tightening around their cups of wine as if bracing for an impact that would rival Vhagar’s powerful landing, eyes fixed on the one-eyed prince as his voice boomed through the hall, "Final tribute."

“To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. 

Each of them handsome, 

wise, 

strong. 

Come! 

Let us drain our cups to these three... strong... boys.”

The fragile vial of wildfire shattered, releasing the fury of the young princes as they jumped to their feet, determined to defend their honour, no matter who witnessed it. Jace moved wildly at Aemond, landing a blow to his face, who barely staggered backwards. Meanwhile, Aegon shoved Lucerys headfirst into an empty plate. The guards hesitated, taking a second too long to intervene and separate the boys, allowing the drama to unfold as the frantic mothers rushed onto the scene, their worried cries piercing the air.

Aemond's voice resonated through the air as Haera rushed towards the group that formed, her grip on her mother's shoulders tight with concern. Her older brothers stood before her, their faces tense with anger but their bodies relaxed. Jace's swift punch had left its mark after all—a small gash on the corner of Aemond's lip, a dark bruise starting to spread over his skin. "I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother," Aemond said, his words dripping with sarcasm as he gazed at Haera. The real insult, however, lay in his next sentence: "Though it seems my nephews aren't quite as proud of theirs, an unlikely match for my sister."

The family was dismissed, and each of them was sent away to enjoy their dinners in each of their chambers. 

The flickering flame in front of Aemond captivated him, his gaze fixed on the gentle rhythm of the dancing fire. Time had passed since the tumultuous events of dinner, and he had yet to return to his chambers, finding himself in Haera’s safe library instead as he tried to ease the disgust that still lingered in his stomach. He waited for a long time to make sure everyone had returned to their chambers for sleep to avoid having anyone see him visit his beloved in her chambers.

But before he could act, the creaking of old hinges shattered the silence, and his eye darted instinctively to the source, finding no other than his girl, Haera, seemingly coming to fetch him. His heart immediately picked up the pace at the angelic sight. 

Her cloud-like hair was elegantly pulled up by a soft braid, and her slender body was delicately wrapped in the rich velvet she was accustomed to wearing to bed. Only a thin, embroidered coat rested over her shoulders, tied at the front of her chest with a delicate silk cord, covering her modestly yet radiating an aura of luxury.

The gentle smile he always saved for her tugged on his lips, the book he had been holding slipping from his hands and forgotten in the excitement of her arrival. "Haera," he whispered, his voice full of affection, as he welcomed her. The young princess sighed in relief, the tension in her shoulders finally released. Her soft eyes caressed the contours of his familiar face. "I was looking for you, brother," she said, her voice tinged with worry. Why did you leave your chambers?” The words hung in the air as if she had been searching for him everywhere, her heart heavy with anticipation.

“I needed some time to myself.” He muttered, his eyes fixed on the floor as she approached him, stopping only in front of the chair where he sat with an air of exhaustion. Now that she had moved closer, she could see the purplish bruise on the corner of his lips more clearly in his swirl of colours, and something shifted in her stomach, stirring of concern. He was leaning back on the backrest, his legs splayed out before him, signalling a sense of comfort. His coat, discarded on the floor next to him, and the leather jacket, unbuttoned and open, revealed his plain cotton undershirt. She had never seen him in such a vulnerable state, somehow so at peace after the fiery argument he had sparked with their family, like a stormy sky clearing.

Aemond noticed how her eyes travelled over his figure, absorbing every detail, and his hand motioned for her to get closer to him to take a step into his quiet world. He would have gladly slid over to allow her some space next to him and enjoy the warmth of her company. Still, she might have interpreted it differently, as she lifted herself over the cushion to sit sideways on his lap instead, her movement sudden and fluid, taking place over him as she had always belonged there.

Somehow, courage had taken over her, building from the adrenaline of dinner; if her brothers were capable of such, she was as well. Haera had promised herself that her secret would remain locked away, especially now that she was a betrothed woman, yet witnessing Aemond’s distress over the impending union with Lucerys Velaryon and the impassioned speech he delivered at dinner had ignited a fire within her. A dormant aspect of her character had awakened, a part she never knew existed. This newfound sensation felt distinct, like the first crackle of autumn leaves. It felt exhilarating and empowering. With deliberate intent, she had taken over his lap, her legs dangling off his side, her side pressed flush against his chest, and her hands settled upon his shoulders, claiming him as her own.

Aemond’s vision blurred, everything around him dissolving into nothingness as his mind came to comprehend what was happening—her gentle pressure against him. The scent of her sweet skin, a blend of flowers, enveloped him, making his senses reel. She flushed a deep crimson, her bold facade crumbling beneath a wave of embarrassment, her cheeks burning. His hands trembled with longing, hovering above her hips as if touching her would shatter her and make her disappear forever. "Sweet girl," his voice was low and husky, his throat parched as the desert. "What are you doing?" The words were barely above a whisper, a struggling sound, as if speaking too loudly would banish the moment's magic.

She responded with silence, her unsteady gaze on him, eyes narrowing to clear her vision. The proximity served them like her magnifying glass, bringing him into sharp focus. She was drawn to the subtle curve of his eyebrows, the slight crook of his nose, and the sharp cut of his chin. Her eyes lingered on the corner of his lips, where the faint imprint of the punch had turned into a delicate purple bruise, barely staining his skin. Without thinking, she reached up, her fingertips lightly tracing its edge. The gentle touch sent a shiver through Aemond's body, and he sucked in a breath, caught off guard by the sudden intimacy of the gesture.

She had touched him before, gentle and hesitating as she searched for his hand, arm, or shoulder to rest her head on, but that was not with the same intensity or intimacy as now. Her touch was a spark, setting his body aflame, a drive that propelled him forward with a motivation that came from the desire to be worthy of her. 

Haera’s skin felt strange, her body shifting from hot to cold and back to hot again while his hands finally came to rest on her waist, his slender fingers digging softly into the thin material of her nightgown. The voices in her head took to a contradictory choir, some screaming at her to feel more of him and the other trying to force her away, but a side was stronger and yearned to feel every inch of him, to be consumed by his presence, and for him to realise she would forever be his. The marriage to another man was nothing for her. She would forever be bound to him in her heart, and no contract or agreement could change that.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned forward, her lips brushing against the corner of his mouth in a hesitant, gentle touch. It would be her first kiss if she had pressed herself fully over his, and her inexperience in the intimacy of her touch was too evident in the way she just pushed against his skin, unsure of how to proceed. The gesture was so sweet and innocent, yet it almost sent him over the edge with a surge of heat, causing his desire to wrestle with his sense of restraint. His mind was a battleground, torn between the purity of her intention and the depravity of his own desires, as he felt the softness of her lips tantalisingly close to the spot where he wanted her to be, to devour her.

But Aemond was a gentleman; he cared for her feelings, so he refused to push her into anything she was not ready for and instead let her take the lead, allowing her to explore and discover the sensations at her own pace. 

Haera pulled back with wide, innocent eyes that sparkled with the surprise of the burning sensation on her lips, covering them with her hands as the tingling was left behind. She looked unsatisfied, her curiosity still burning bright, but she didn't know how to ask the questions she wanted to. So she tried again, her lips finally pressing squarely over his in a chaste, exploratory kiss before pulling back to gauge his reaction. She repeated this once, twice, and three times as she peppered kisses over his lips, each time pulling back to look at him with her beautiful eyes.

He realised she was testing him, watching how he responded to her touch. Aemond smiled, his grip on her waist tightening to hold her in place. “Go ahead.” He muttered, a voice reserved just for her. "You can keep going." The words were an invitation, a permission to explore, and he could sense her hesitation dissipating as she leaned in again, her lips a whisper away from his.

The next time they touched, he leaned in to meet her halfway, brushing against hers with a guiding touch to encourage her to follow his lead and discover the warmth of a real kiss, one between lovers. She immediately mirrored his movements with the soft, tender pressure when his lips danced across hers. As she tilted her head, the kiss slowly gained intensity, and she felt herself becoming lost in the sensation, the heat taking over her lower body as her desire for him grew. Despite her initial uncertainty with him, she felt an innate knowing, as if she had been kissing him all her life.

The kiss deepened, and she felt herself melting into him as the flame grew within her, body moulding to his and pressing heavily against his thighs underneath her legs. Aemond's hand cradled the back of her head, taking control of the kiss, his passion for her growing with every passing moment. His hunger was palpable, and she felt herself responding, drawn to him like a winged insect to a funeral pyre, the world around them fading into insignificance.

His tongue darted out to press itself against her lips, a gentle invitation that she accepted with boldness, granting him entrance to her mouth. He slid inside, his hot muscle caressing hers tenderly as the kiss escalated from their tongues intertwining, sending shivers down their spines as they set into a passionate rhythm with their kiss. At first, her body had stiffened, unfamiliar with the sensation, but he persisted, his gentle prodding wearing down her defences. Soon, she found herself melting into the embrace, her senses surrendering to the intensity of the moment. It was as if her entire being had been submerged in a cauldron of molten lava.

The world around her began to fade, leaving only the two of them, lost in the vortex of their passion. The air was heavy, alive with the promise of what could be, and she felt herself getting swept away by the sheer force of his desire. The kiss was no longer just a meeting of lips but a fusion of bodies that left her gasping for air yet craving more. She started to feel the overwhelming pressure of release, and her body began to sway over him, seeking for something. 

Aemond's senses grew heightened as the darkness within him began to unfurl, a dragon awakening from a deep slumber. With each deliberate roll of her hips, the danger escalated, threatening to engulf him. The thoughts swirling in his mind were primal, raw, and completely consumed by the proximity of her body to his. She had surrendered completely to him, pressing her small form against him on the worn couch, her arms wrapped tightly over his shoulders. The light of the room seemed to fade into nothing as Aemond's focus narrowed to the rhythmic movement of her hips as she began to squirm over him, the gentle pressure of her body, and the sweet curve of her neck as his hands began to travel over her body, feeling her form under his rough palms. 

His mind wandered, consumed by the forbidden thought: could he claim her innocence? The notion sent a searing flame through his gut, fuelled by the knowledge that she was promised to another for political alliances, someone devoid of honour and talent. Another would never cherish her like he could, never adore her like he would. Aemond, a man of substance, could provide her with everything her heart desired. He would mount Vhagar, his majestic dragon, and fetch the moon itself if that's what she yearned for.

Yet he resisted the temptation to take her on that chair, despite the alluring sight of her sitting over him, her barely covered body pressing against him, unknowingly seeking pleasure as she rocked herself over him. She merited more than a fleeting passion; she deserved to be cherished and worshipped. The chair limited him to mere sensations—the feel of her skin, the rhythm of her movements, the sweetness of her taste. He needed to be patient to witness the moment she discovered true pleasure for the first time.

Perhaps if he were her first—the first to touch her, to feel her, to take her maidenhead—he would leave an indelible mark on her soul. She would remember him forever, even on her wedding night and the following nights. Even without the most intimate of touches, she had awakened a deep longing within him that he couldn't ignore. He yearned to be the one to ignite the flames of true pleasure within her and to hear her soft, velvety voice whisper his name in rapturous surrender. The thought of another person claiming the right to shatter her, to push her to the limits, and to witness her stunning features twisted in ecstasy was unbearable. She would see him, not some other man, in her mind's eye. Maybe she would gaze upon her firstborn child and imagine what a child with him would look like—a Valyrian offspring with snow-white hair and piercing purple eyes. The thought tormented him, a sweet temptation that echoed through his being.

He refused to let the beast win—that beast that wanted to break her innocence over a pathetic chair, as tempting as she was in her sheer gown. Instead, he encircled her waist with his arms and drew her nearer, their lips parting with the most lustful sound as they pulled apart to breathe, a translucent string of saliva still connecting their mouths. She let herself fall over him, her head resting on his shoulder as she struggled to catch her breath. The love he harboured for her was a tidal wave, threatening to engulf him at any moment, but having her close and feeling her warmth and weight in his embrace was a balm to his troubled mind. It was as if the world, with all its cares and worries, receded, leaving only the two of them, lost in the silence of their own private universe.

Nothing could prepare them for what would come next.

ᡣ𐭩 ─ author's note ;

i HATE this chapter lol. i feel like it's so much of the show content that i didn't really play around with more stuff, but at least i added an alone moment with lucerys and finally a moment with aemond at the end, to help spice things a little bit before that inevitable chapter where everything goes to shit.

as i think i have said before, this is not a story that will continue with the show or books, so after chapter three there will only be two more chapters remaining and i'm planning for the last one to be almost no-plot smut, since that is what this series was originally. i have added the posibilities to little "spin-offs" one shots in the masterlist and if everything goes right i will go through with them but after i'm done posting other content.

i apologize for any mistakes in grammar or something, i did not have much time for editing but i'm hoping that it gets better by the next chapters! i'm definitely trying to pull my big guns for the last two chapters for sure.

a big question; should i cover blood & cheese completely, or let it be something that happens in the background and is not written down? it will happen, and it will be referenced, i just don't know if i want to write it all going down.

chapter two; Sunday 10th. ╰⪼ thank you for reading!

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts III

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

It's time for the petition to decide who will be the heir to Driftmark, and tensions rise as blood spills.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Secret Relationship, Death, Violence, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, Rough P in V,

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5955

A.N - Going over old ground but it needs to be done.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

The tension in the throne room was palpable as Valaena stood alongside her family, her heart pounding in her chest.

On one side stood Rhaenyra, regal and composed, Daemon at her side, his expression unreadable but sharp, and her brothers, Jacaerys and Lucerys.

Rhaenys and Baela were standing just off centre their hands clasped together.

Across from them, Alicent Hightower stood with Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond.

Valaena’s gaze flickered over Aemond for a moment as he stood as still as stone, his arms folded behind his back, his single eye locked onto her, his expression unreadable.

At the centre of the room Vaemond Velaryon, bold and confident, waiting for his moment.

Overseeing it all from the Iron Throne was Otto Hightower, the Hand of the King.

The murmurs in the room began to die down as Otto rose from the Iron Throne, his voice cutting through the air.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark,” he announced “As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon-”

Vaemond stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully to Alicent before turning to Otto, his voice filled with conviction.

“My lord Hand. The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas."

As he spoke, Valaena’s hand instinctively tightened into a fist at her side. She could feel the weight of the stares from the court—whispers of legitimacy and bloodlines swirling in the air like an invisible storm.

Vaemond continued, his voice growing more passionate. “-I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.”

Before he could go further, Rhaenyra stepped forward, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. “As it does in my children, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir.”

Valaena felt a surge of pride as her mother spoke, but Vaemond's eyes flickered with barely concealed disdain.

“-No,” Rhaenyra continued, her tone sharp, “you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition.”

Otto raised a hand, cutting off the exchange. “You will have your chance to make your own petition, Princess. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.”

Rhaenyra stepped back, and Valaena instinctively reached out, placing a comforting hand on her mother's arm. As she did, her eyes drifted back to Aemond.

He stood still, watching her, his face still unreadable. For a brief moment, the world outside the two of them faded, but then Vaemond's voice pulled her back.

"My lord Hand, this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation and the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor- the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides.”

The silence in the room was heavy as Vaemond finished, the weight of his words settling over the court.

Otto nodded. “Thank you, Ser Vaemond. Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Jacaerys Velaryon.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward “If I am to grace this farce with some answer,” she began, her voice carrying through the throne room, “I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very—"

Suddenly, the great doors of the throne room burst open with a loud creak, and a voice echoed through the hall: "King Viserys of House Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm."

Every head in the room turned toward the doors as King Viserys entered, frail but determined, hobbling forward with the help of his cane. The murmurs in the room ceased entirely, replaced by silence.

The throne room was suffocating with tension as King Viserys hobbled toward the Iron Throne, every step he took a visible struggle.

Wheezing, gasping, and groaning, he gripped his cane with white knuckles, his body bowed under the weight of his years and illness.

As Otto Hightower descended the steps of the Iron Throne, his expression was strained, the Hand clearly uncomfortable with the king’s sudden decision to preside.

Viserys, however, would not be deterred.

“Move aside Otto. I will sit the throne today,” Viserys rasped, his voice unyielding.

Otto nodded curtly. "Your Grace," he said, stepping aside with a strained smile.

The entire court watched in silence as the king shuffled toward the steps of the throne. Viserys looked up at the imposing seat, his face twisted in pain yet filled with determination.

The climb was torturous, each step taking every ounce of strength he had left. His body trembled as he ascended, and a member of the Kings guard rushed forward to assist him.

But Viserys, with as much dignity as he could muster, shook his head.

“I will be fine,” he said, though his voice wavered with effort.

Just as he reached the final step, the golden crown slipped from his head, clattering loudly on the stone floor.

Viserys sighed in frustration, bending slightly to retrieve it, but before he could reach it, a gentle hand grasped his arms and picked up the crown for him.

“I said I’m fine—” he began, turning with a fierce expression, but his voice caught in his throat as he saw who had come to his aid.

It wasn’t one of his guards but Valaena.

“Come on, Grandsire,” she said softly, her violet eyes—the same shape and shade as her grandmother Aemma’s—filled with understanding. “Slow but steady.”

For a moment, Viserys simply gazed into her eyes, his heart stirred by the likeness to the wife he had loved and lost.

A smile tugged at the corner of his lips, and he allowed her to help him to the throne. With her support, he finally collapsed into the Iron Throne, breathing heavily but victorious in his effort.

Valaena with careful grace, placed the crown back on his head, smiling warmly.

She moved to step away, but Viserys stopped her with a wheezing breath. "My sweet girl, my only granddaughter-" His voice was hoarse but filled with affection. “-Thank you”

Valaena turned, her heart warmed by the tenderness from her grandfather. “You are welcome, Your Grace,” she said, bowing.

Struggling for breath, Viserys fumbled with a ring on his finger before pulling it off. His voice was frail as he extended the ring to her.

“I want you to have this-It once belonged to my Aemma. S-She would want you to have it-”

Valaena blinked in surprise, glancing down at the ring before accepting it with reverence. She slid it onto her finger, feeling the weight of the legacy that came with it.

She then leaned closer to her grandsire, whispering softly, “Mother needs your help-”

Viserys gave her a faint nod of understanding. Valaena stepped back, descending the stairs gracefully to rejoin her family.

All eyes followed her, whispers rippling through the room as she passed, but she paid them no mind.

Viserys wiped a trembling hand over his face, gathering his composure. “I must-admit-my confusion,” he began, his voice thick with exhaustion. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.”

His eyes roamed the room before settling on Princess Rhaenys. “The only one present-who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Rhaenys stepped forward, her voice resolute as she spoke. “Indeed, Your Grace. It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Jacaerys Velaryon.” Her eyes flicked to Vaemond as she continued. “-His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.”

She took a breath before adding, “As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

Viserys smiled faintly, nodding. “Well-the matter is settled. Again.” His voice, though weak, carried finality. “I hereby reaffirm Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

But Vaemond’s face twisted with fury. “You break law-and centuries of tradition,” he spat, his voice seething with rage, “To install your daughter and granddaughter as heirs to the Iron Throne. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon.”

He turned, his voice rising in anger. “No. I will not allow it.”

Viserys’ eye darkened as he sat forward. “Allow it?” he snapped. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

Vaemond turned, his face contorted in disgust as he pointed a trembling finger at Jacaerys. “That is no true Velaryon! And certainly no nephew of mine!”

Rhaenyra stepped protectively in front of her son. “Go to your chambers,” she said firmly to Jace, her voice cutting through the tension. “You have said enough.”

Viserys, his voice sharp with authority, declared, “Jacaerys is my true-born grandson. And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

But Vaemond could not contain his rage. “You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine! My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides! And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this—”

“-Say it” Daemon interjected, his voice like ice, a deadly invitation hanging in the air.

Vaemond’s eyes locked onto Daemon’s, and his mouth twisted into a sneer. “Her children-are bastards,” he spat with venom. Then, turning to Rhaenyra, he roared, “And she is a whore!”

The room gasped, horrified. Viserys, his face a mask of fury, began to rise from his throne, unsheathing his dagger.

“I will have your tongue for that!” he growled, his frail body shaking with rage.

But before Viserys could act, there was a sudden, swift movement—Daemon stepped forward in one fluid motion, and the room was filled with the sickening sound of steel slicing through flesh. Vaemond’s head tumbled to the ground, his body collapsing to the floor with a heavy thud.

The hall erupted in shocked gasps as blood pooled around the corpse. Daemon, calm as ever, smirked as he wiped the blood from Dark Sister on the hem of his clothes.

“He can keep his tongue,” he said casually, his voice dripping with amusement.

Otto’s voice cut through the stunned silence, “Disarm him!” he ordered.

Daemon merely shrugged. “No need.”

Valaena’s gaze was fixed on Vaemond’s headless body, her heart pounding in her chest, her hand hovering over her stomach.

She slowly looked over to Aemond, who stood across the room, smirking in approval, clearly impressed by Daemon’s display.

When their eyes met, Aemond’s smirk widened, his amusement and satisfaction clear.

Later that evening the air was thick with tension as Valaena took her seat next to Aemond at the long banquet table.

Jace and Luke, exchanged confused glances as they took their own seats across from her, but Valaena ignored them, her mind focused elsewhere.

Beneath the table, she felt a hand slip into hers. She glanced at Aemond, his expression as stoic as ever, but the firm grip of his hand spoke volumes.

Her heart quickened, and she gave his hand a subtle squeeze in return, feeling a quiet comfort in his presence.

Moments later, the heavy doors to the hall creaked open, and Viserys was carried in. The entire room stood in unison, waiting as he was gently placed at the head of the table.

Once seated, they all followed, retaking their places, Aemond’s hand once again finding hers beneath the table.

“Wine Princess?” asked a maid.

“No thank you-just water” replied Valaena. The maid bowed slightly before she left the table, returning moments later with a cup of water.

“How good it is, to see you all tonight” Viserys rasped, a pained yet heartfelt smile on his weathered face.

Alicent, seated beside him, folded her hands in prayer. “Prayer before we begin?” she suggested, her voice soft yet firm. She bowed her head, and the others followed, though Valaena kept her eyes open, watching the scene unfold.

“May the Mother smile down on this gathering with love,” Alicent began, her voice carrying over the silent room. “May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest.”

Across the table, Valaena caught Daemon rolling his eyes at the mention of Vaemond. Her lips twitched into a smirk, and when Daemon noticed, and he shook his head in amusement.

Viserys, still smiling, then continued, “This is an occasion for celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins, Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our houses.” He raised his cup with trembling hands. “A toast to the young Princes-and their betrothed.”

“Hear, hear,” Daemon said with a grin, raising his cup, and Valaena followed suit, her gaze flicking momentarily to Aemond, whose eye remained fixed on her.

But the air shifted when Aegon leaned over toward Jace, a wicked smirk playing on his lips as he reached for a decanter of wine.

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman. You do know how the act is done, I assume?” Aegon’s tone dripped with mocking amusement. “At least in principle? Where to put your cock and all that. If you want, I can provide you with a demonstration.”

Jace’s face flushed with anger, and he snarled back, “You can play the jester if you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed.”

Aegon laughed, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Ask Aemond,” he said with a wink. “Judging from the noises coming from his chambers last night, I taught him well.”

The jest hung in the air, and while Aemond scowled in irritation, but Jace’s gaze flicked curiously toward Valaena, who had lowered her head, her cheeks a faint shade of pink.

Jace’s eyes narrowed slightly, his mind clearly turning over the implications of Aegon’s words, but before he could speak, the sound of Viserys struggling to stand shifted everyone’s attention.

The King rose shakily from his chair, gripping the edge of the table for support. “It both gladdens my heart and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table,” Viserys began, his voice raw with emotion. “The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in the years past.”

With a slow, deliberate movement, he reached behind his head and unclasped the golden mask that had been concealing his disfigurement.

The mask landed on the table with a dull clunk, and Valaena, still holding Aemond’s hand beneath the table, felt her breath catch in her throat.

Half of her grandfather’s face was rotted away, his eye gone, and his cheek nothing but decayed flesh.

She squeezed Aemond’s hand tighter, feeling his grip return just as firmly. His expression remained unchanged, but she knew he was glaring at his father, perhaps feeling the weight of unspoken resentment for the man who had failed to protect him in the past.

Viserys’ voice, though frail, was filled with the weight of decades of leadership. “My own face, is no longer a handsome one, if indeed it ever was. But tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father. Your brother. Your husband and your grandsire. Who may not, it seems walk for much longer among you.”

Valaena felt Aemond tense beside her, and she could sense the silent storm brewing within him, his hatred for his father’s words barely contained.

Viserys continued, his voice growing softer. “Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown cannot stand strong if the House of the Dragon remains divided. But set aside your grievances, if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Valaena glanced at Aemond, his hand still tightly gripping hers beneath the table. His jaw was clenched, his eye glaring at Viserys with a mixture of frustration and unspoken sorrow.

She could feel the depth of his anger, the silent war that raged within him at being denied the recognition and love he had once so desperately craved from his father.

As the dinner progressed, the tension in the room ebbed and flowed with each passing toast.

Valaena noticed the look of shock and contempt on Otto’s face as Alicent, in a rare moment of sincerity, raised her cup and declared, "Rhaenyra will make a fine queen." The words seemed to hang in the air, heavy with implication, and Valaena could almost feel Otto’s displeasure burning from across the table.

Alicent, however, remained composed, but her father’s disapproval was unmistakable.

Next to her, Aemond sat in silence, his plate untouched.

Concerned, Valaena leaned in and whispered, “Are you ok? You’re not eating.”

“I’m fine,” Aemond replied, though his tone was curt, his jaw set.

He let go of her hand under the table and placed it on her thigh instead, the weight of his touch sending a ripple through her.

Valaena returned her attention to her own food, but felt her stomach roll at the smell of the lamprey pie, so she pushed away her plate and instead took a sip of water.

Further down the table, Aegon leaned in close to Baela, his voice low but dripping with arrogance. “I, um regret the disappointment you are soon to suffer,” he said, his words laced with mockery. “But if you ever wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.”

The air snapped with tension as Jace slammed his fists onto the table and stood abruptly, his eyes blazing with fury.

Aemond, ever his brother’s protector, rose immediately. But Jace, forced a smile and raised his cup.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond,” Jace said, his voice cool yet heavy with underlying menace. “We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth. And as men, I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To you and your family’s good health, dear uncles.”

Aegon huffed “To you as well,”

Viserys, oblivious to the mounting tension, nodded approvingly at Jace. “Well done, my boy,”

Helaena, ever the strange and soft-spoken one, suddenly stood, raising her glass awkwardly. “I would like to toast to Baela and Rhaena,” she said, her tone as detached as ever. “They’ll be married soon. It isn’t so bad. Mostly he just ignores you-except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Valaena’s eyes narrowed in a glare at Aegon, who rubbed a hand over his face, clearly embarrassed by his sister’s blunt honesty.

Helaena, however, smiled sweetly and sat back down as if she hadn’t just revealed the stark reality of her marriage.

Viserys, trying to lighten the mood, called for music. Soon, a sweet melody filled the hall, easing the tension just enough for the moment.

Jace, rose from his seat and approached Helaena, offering her his hand. She accepted with a shy smile, and the two began to dance.

Aemond, watching the scene unfold, stood and offered his hand to Valaena. She eyed him curiously, but when he gave her a small nod, she accepted, letting him lead her to an empty space in the hall.

As the music continued, the world around them seemed to fade, leaving just the two of them moving together.

Aemond twirled her gracefully, and when he lifted her off the floor, a soft laugh escaped her lips, filling the air with a rare moment of joy.

They danced, oblivious to the curious eyes watching them, as if they were the only two people in the room.

When the music ended, Valaena, slightly breathless, smiled and thanked Aemond before Jace, angrily stormed over grabbing hold of her arm and forcefully pulling her away from Aemond who took a step forward but stopped when Valaena shook her head.

“What was that?” snarled Jace.

Valaena gave him a casual shrug as she wrenched her arm out of his grasp “He asked me to dance. I couldn’t exactly refuse.”

Before the conversation could continue, Viserys grew visibly tired, and the guards moved to take him back to his chambers.

The moment he was carried out, Aegon stood abruptly and walked over to Valaena, his grin wide and insufferable.

“Seen as you danced with my brother, it’s only fair you take a turn with me,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

Valaena hesitated, noticing Aemond who had resumed his seat was clenching his jaw. But she couldn’t exactly refuse without making a scene, so she took Aegon’s hand reluctantly.

As they danced, Aegon leaned in close, his voice low and taunting.

“If you think my brother has good moves, you should try mine,” he whispered.

Valaena’s eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

Aegon smirked. “How long have you been fucking my brother?”

Valaena laughed, brushing him off. “Are you drunk?”

“Not drunk enough to lose my wits,” Aegon replied with a sly grin. “That was you I heard with him last night-”

“You know nothing,” Valaena said, twirling around him, trying to maintain her composure.

“I know more than you think-” Aegon shot back, his tone sharp. “I take it none of your family know about you and Aemond”

“Clearly the wine has addled your senses uncle,” Valaena muttered, her patience wearing thin.

Before Aegon could respond, a loud banging interrupted them. Aemond had risen from his seat, his cup in hand, his expression dark and unreadable.

“Final tribute,” Aemond declared, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “To the health of my nephews, Jace and Luke. Each of them handsome, wise-hmm-strong.”

“Aemond,” Alicent warned, but he ignored her, his gaze fixed on Jace.

“Come,” Aemond continued, his smirk widening. “Let us drain our cups to these two Strong boys.”

Jace, his face flushed with anger, snarled, “I dare you to say that again.”

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment,” Aemond replied, his voice laced with mockery. “Do you not think yourself Strong?”

Jace lunged forward, punching Aemond in the jaw. Chaos then erupted as Luke tried to intervene, but Aegon grabbed him, slamming his head into the table.

“Jace!” Rhaenyra shouted, rising from the table as Alicent yelled, “That is enough!”

Valaena, seeing Aegon manhandling her brother, rushed over and grabbed a handful of his hair, wrenching him away from Luke.

Aegon retaliated by grabbing her and shoving her back, but Valaena, lurched forward and punched him in the side of the head.

Alicent seized Aemond, pulling him aside. “Why would you say such a thing before these people?” she demanded, her voice filled with frustration.

Aemond, his face impassive, simply smirked. “I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, Mother. Though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

As Jace broke free from the Kings guard, ready to charge Aemond again, Daemon stepped in, his voice calm but commanding. “Wait, wait!” he said, halting everyone in their tracks.

Rhaenyra, her voice sharp, said, “Go to your quarters. All of you. Now.”

Valaena stepped away from Aegon, her chest heaving with anger as she glanced at Aemond one last time before she followed her siblings out of the room.

Valaena moved quietly around her chambers, packing her things into a worn leather satchel. Her hands trembled as she stuffed clothing and personal items inside.

As she picked up her hairpins from the vanity, she heard the familiar creak of shifting wood behind her. She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

“My mother has said that we are to sail back to Dragonstone,” she said flatly, focusing on the task at hand.

A moment later, she felt the warmth of a hand settle on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off, moving to the vanity again to gather her remaining things.

“You are upset with me,” Aemond said quietly.

Valaena’s jaw tightened as she stuffed the hairpins into her satchel. “I know you have no love or care for my brothers, but did you not consider the harm you would do to me with that toast of yours?”

Aemond stepped closer, frustration simmering in his voice. “It was your brother who angered me. He dared to laugh at my expense.”

Valaena turned sharply to face him, her eyes filled with hurt. “So, in your anger, you decide to ridicule me?” Her voice trembled with accusation.

Aemond’s expression softened, his hand reaching up to cup her face. “No. Not you. Never you.”

Valaena pulled away, removing his hands from her face as her heart ached. “I can take the whispers and the stares of others, but I cannot take it from you,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond reached for her again, but this time, she stepped back, her eyes refusing to meet his. “Please don’t turn from me,” he said softly, his voice laced with desperation. “I did not mean to hurt you.”

Her fingers fiddled with the buckles of her satchel as she tried to steady her breath. “How can you scorn my brothers but claim to care for or even love me when I share the same blood as they do?”

Aemond’s expression darkened with old memories. “They used to tease me, as you well know. You suffered the same.” His voice carried a heavy bitterness.

“Yes, I did,” Valaena replied, her tone sharper than she intended.

“All I ever wanted was a dragon,” Aemond continued, his voice growing distant as he looked back on his childhood. “After you were taken to Dragonstone, and word came that you had claimed Silverwing, that gave me hope. I thought, like you, perhaps I wasn’t meant to have an egg, that maybe my dragon was already grown.”

Valaena paused, her hands stilling on the satchel as she remembered. “I was always meant for the sky,” she said softly, her eyes far away. “I could hear her calling for me. And when we flew together, our hearts were as one.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Aemond confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “When I claimed Vhagar, I sensed her loneliness. I know too well how it feels to be alone. She accepted me, and the joy of our first flight—” His voice faltered, the pain of the memory clear. “—was ripped away when your brothers and cousins attacked me.”

Valaena closed her eyes, guilt washing over her. “I tried to stop them.”

“I know,” Aemond whispered, stepping closer. “When I fell into the dirt, blood pouring down my face, I could hear you screaming. And then you came to me.” His voice softened as he remembered that night. “You tore pieces of your nightgown and pressed them to my face to stop the bleeding. You took my hand. Do you remember what you said?”

Valaena’s breath hitched as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Yes. I remember.”

Aemond’s voice was low and reverent, the weight of their shared memory hanging between them.

“Iksan lēda ao,” he whispered, his gaze fixed on her. (I’m with you)

Valaena’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes filled with more tears as she looked up at him.

“Are you with me Valaena?” asked Aemond.

“Va moriot,” she whispered back, her voice trembling. (Always)

In an instant, Aemond surged forward, his lips crashing against hers in a fierce, desperate kiss. Valaena melted into him, her hands clutching at his tunic as if holding on to him was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested against one another, their breath mingling as they stood in silence.

Aemond’s voice was raw with emotion as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I never meant to cause you harm. I love you.”

Tears spilled freely from Valaena’s eyes as she whispered back, “I love you too.”

For a moment, the world outside their small space seemed to fall away, leaving only the two of them.

Aemond pulled back slightly, his fingers still resting on Valaena's cheek as he searched her tear-streaked face, his gaze filled with urgency. "How long do we have?" he asked softly, his voice laced with an edge of desperation. "Until you have to return to Dragonstone?"

Valaena swallowed hard, her heart heavy with the weight of their impending separation. “My mother could come for me at any moment,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, as if speaking the truth out loud would make it happen faster.

Aemond’s jaw clenched, as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against her ear as he murmured, “We best be quick then.”

Before she could respond he spun Valaena around and pressed her face against the wall, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other quickly pushing down his breeches and smallclothes.

“I said we needed to be quick” rasped Aemond as he nudged her ankle with his foot, signalling for her to open her legs wider.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth digging into her skin.

Not having the time to properly prepare her, Aemond spat into his hand reaching down to run it up and down the hard length of himself, eyeing Valaena with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she bent forward for him.

He rucked up the dress she was wearing and pulled aside her smallclothes as he guided himself to her entrance, she barely had a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“TAKE IT!” spits Aemond.

Valaena can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing the tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers, his fingers digging into her hips as he pushes and pulls her against him.

His cock reaching deep inside her, the sting of being stretched by him now giving way to a pleasurable ache.

Then he withdraws from her and spins her around, lifting her into his arms, his mouth pressed against hers as he quickly thrusts back inside her.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Valaena as she claws at his back.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

“P-Please. Oh Please. Yes-yes” babbled Valaena ignoring the pain in her back as the force of Aemond’s thrusts kept slamming her into the wall.

“That’s it-” encouraged Aemond his gaze rooted to the place where they were joined, transfixed by the sight of her cunt stretched around his cock.

“Oooh-please-please” muttered Valaena.

But then, his thrust begin to slow, and he withdraws from her, making her whimper in frustration.

But Aemond ignores her as he lays her on the chaise and falls to his knees.

Sliding his hands up her legs, bunching the fabric of her smallclothes in his hand before he rips them from her body.

“P-Please-” whined Valaena as she felt his hard cock sliding against her folds.

“Hmm” growled Aemond as he sheathes himself inside her again.

“God. Yes. Aemond” moaned Valaena as he began to thrust in and out of her in deep achingly slow thrusts.

“Your cunt is dripping, it's so beautiful” sighed Aemond.

Slowly thrusting back and forth. Over and over, withdrawing further each time, until his cock entirely withdrew from her warm wet entrance.

“Tell me you want me-“ growled Aemond as he ran the head of his cock through her wet folds.

“I want you” exclaimed Valaena

“Tell me you need me” whispered Aemond as he sheathed himself back inside her.

“I need you-“ muttered Valaena as one of Aemond’s hands slid up her body and wrapped around her throat.

Aemond smiled and then began to fuck her in earnest, his fingers digging into the flesh of her throat, using her as leverage as he repeatedly plunged his cock into her cunny, over, thrilled to hear Valaena’s moans of need echoing around the chambers.

His thrusts, brutal and unrelenting.

“Come for me-” breathed Aemond.

Valaena screamed as her desperately needed peak exploded from her body, making every limb tremble as her body bucked around Aemond’s cock.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me-good girl”.

“A-Aemond-”

“I-I’m going to-come” exclaimed Aemond, the tension in his abdomen was about to burst.

“Yes-yes-” whined Valaena.

 “FUUUCCCKKK” roared Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed inside her, collapsing against her, breathing hard.

Aemond lay atop Valaena on the chaise, his heart pounding as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath coming in heavy, heated bursts.

Then, suddenly—a sharp knock at the door.

They both jumped, Valaena gasping as Aemond immediately pulled his softened cock from her and scrambled to fasten his breeches. His fingers fumbled with the laces as Rhaenyra's voice sounded from the other side of the door, calm yet commanding.

"Time to go, Valaena,"

"Just a second!" Valaena's voice was a breathless rush as she hurriedly smoothed out her dishevelled dress, her heart racing.

She glanced at Aemond, who, despite his usual composure, looked equally startled, still fastening his clothes.

The door handle turned with a faint creak, and the door opened slightly. Valaena’s heart leapt into her throat as she saw the sliver of light spilling into the room, but then Daemon’s voice rang out through the gap.

“Is she ready yet? If we’re leaving, we need to go now,” Daemon said, his tone impatient.

“Almost,” Rhaenyra replied.

Valaena cast a desperate glance at Aemond, her voice barely a whisper. “Quick!”

Aemond’s eye darted to the slowly widening door, then back to her. Without a word, he leaned in and pressed a swift but tender kiss to her lips, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a fleeting moment before he slipped away.

With quiet precision, he moved to the secret passage hidden in the shadows of the room, disappearing just as the door began to open wider.

Valaena exhaled shakily, her hands smoothing her dress one last time as she grabbed her satchel. She turned just as her mother finally stepped inside, her smile warm but faintly tired.

"Ready?" her mother asked, her eyes softening when they met Valaena's.

Valaena nodded, offering a small smile in return. "Yes. I’m ready."

Rhaenyra glanced behind her at Daemon, who continued grumbling under his breath about the treachery in the Keep. “Come. Your brothers are waiting.”

With one final glance toward the secret passage, Valaena steeled herself, clutching her satchel a little tighter. She could still feel the lingering warmth of Aemond’s kiss on her lips as she followed her mother, her heart heavy with the knowledge that the time they shared had come to an end—at least for now.

TBC

[the-queen-who-should-have-been]

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Lady Baela Targaryen x Sara Snow

[technicallyfriendly]

This is for my friend @godofstory, but I invite everyone to share their ideas and opinions in the comments or rebloggs whichever you prefer!

Hogwarts!AU, let's go! Before I start, however, I want to clarify that most of the adults in my headcanon work at the ministry. Only Daemon, Alys, Laena, and Viserys work at the school.

Daemon is the teacher for defence because i think it'd be really funny, the students are either afraid of him or absolutely in awe of him no in between. Alys is the potions professor who sometimes tries her newest concoctions on Daemon, who seems to have a strangely high immunity to poisons. Laena is the flight instructor and former professional quidditch player because I think it'd be cool, and Viserys is the headmaster who took over after he retired as minister of magic. Rhaenyra is the new minister of magic, obviously, and Otto is forever salty about being her under secretary because I like to see him suffer.

For house placement, I'm going with the idea of what each one valued the most at the time of sorting, similar to Canon Harry Potter and I'll start with the eldest, Aegon.

Aegon is sorted into Slytherin because he didn't want to disappoint anyone. It was kinda Targaryan tradition since Aegon the First himself was sorted into said house. He absolutely does not fit the type, but he tries. He really does. Politics is just so tedious, and there is just so much more fun to be had, like flying, for example. Why should he lead the house like his mother keeps telling him to when he could just become quidditch captain one day instead.

Helaena is sorted into Hufflepuff because she does not care one bit about her mother's expectations. She loves care of magical creatures and possesses all of Scamander's books (original and signed, of course). Sure, she has a gift for divination, but she hates it and rather spends her time in the forbidden forest, despite it being, well, forbidden, and she somehow despite never having witnessed anyone die managed to befriend the Thestrals.

Aemond, like Aegon, ended up in Slytherin, too, of course, which suits him much better than his older brother. He idolises his defence professor, uncle, and former Auror Daemon Targaryan and has a slight crush on Alys Rivers, the potion professor. Though nothing trumps his obsession with his nephew, who, in a bout of accidental magic, took out his eye. Aemond himself was not completely blameless in the incident, having forced his nephew into a corner, but that knowledge does not cool his anger one bit. Though, is it really hatred that motivates his obsession? Or is it an emotion of a much more possessive nature? Whatever it is, Aemond certainly is not ready to explore it further as of now.

Jace and Baela both got sorted into Gryffindor. They and Rhaena started their time at Hogwarts at the same time, and as best friends were over joyed to be in the same house. Both brave and bold, benefiting leaders they would turn out to be some day. Unfortunately, the gossipers of wizard high society took this in Jace's case as another confirmation of his status as a bastard son, but they were silenced over time as Jace rose through the student roster and even became head boy of Hogwarts later on. Baela took after her mother and made her name as the best quidditch captain the house of Gryffindor has ever seen. Though, she did not only have a talent for quidditch but also for duelling, and she often demonstrated that skill to defend her girlfriend Helaena from bullies. Cementing quickly that messing with her would be a certain mistake. Jace himself, much to his own consternation, fell for Slytherin's seeker, who turned out to be quite different from all the mean-spirited rumours spread about him.

Rhaena was sorted, surprising absolutely no one, into Ravenclaw. While quiet and unassuming, she would one day shock everyone and become Head girl of Hogwarts. Eventually graduating with the highest honour starting a career under Unspeakable Jeyne Arryn herself. Despite her not being the troublemaker her siblings and cousins turned out to be, she was quite adept with spell work, and people out to bully her learned their lesson rather quickly.

Daeron, much like Rhaena being an often forgotten child in the mix of the Targaryan and Valeryon children, was also sorted into Ravenclaw. He even rose to the position of Ravenclaw quidditch captain and would have turned out to be the Baela's greatest obstacle in winning the inter-house quidditch cup if it wasn't for Aegon being a surprisingly competent seeker for house Slytherin.

Lucerys valuing loyalty the most gets sorted into Hufflepuff. This just pours more gasoline onto the already burning rumour mill until they witness him first throw down with his uncle Aemond, who is trying to make Lucerys' life at Hogwarts difficult. Their monthly spats become one of Hogwarts' greatest entertainments for the next few years until Aemond graduates. That is until Daemon, of all people, catches them making out in a broom closet. Not that their fights subside, but now they often end in the privacy of the Room of Requirements after Daemon got sick of trying to kill Aemond every time he caught them.

Joffrey, much like his eldest brother, would later get sorted into Gryffindor, while Aegon the Third, Viserys the Second and little Visenya would get sorted into Slytherin to cause havoc long after their elder siblings had graduated.

[jazzyspams]

Scared

pairing: aemond × fem!reader (afab, use of she/her)

rating: explicit. (18+. mdni.)

summary: he grabbed your face hard. stopping you both from the dance as he said “i will destroy you before i dare to see you happy with a husband. i promise you that princess. so please enjoy your time here before you have to tour because while you’re touring ill be there. watching you and ruining any chance you have of happiness or any chance of you getting a husband”

requested: no lol, just something that came to mind :)

warnings: smut (PiV, unprotected), creampie, overstimulation, choking, begging, a lot of dirty talk, dom! aemond, rough sex, teasing, slight knife kink, praising kink, lotss of begging, kind of degradation kink lol, overall just a veryyy bold & shameless smut, so enjoy ;)

part two!

✭・.・✫

kings landing was such a beautiful place, the people were kind and loving and the red atmosphere just made it much more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen, as king viserys niece it’s surprising that this is your first time at kings landing

considering yourself royalty was out of the ordinary for people such as yourself, only a few moons ago you were just a farmer’s daughter until the queen found out you’re father was daemon targaryen which made you a bastardettes considering the fact that your mother and father were never married

it is extremely rare for a bastard or bastardettes to be taken in but your story was different

the queen is only using you to try and once get on the good side of her old friends heart who happens to be princess rhaenyra, your fathers wife

the king was one step away from death and it is mere moments before a war breaks out and aegon and rhaenyra start fighting over who shall wear the crown and everyone knew it

you knew you were being used as a little pawn in their game of thrones but it was oddly working out in your favor because once the kingdoms knew of your “pristine beauty” the queen decided that you must find a suitor

you honestly didn’t have any intention of coming to the red keep or finding a suitor but what’s the worse that could happen?

as you walked out the carriage you looked around at the beautiful entrance of the red keep where there were maids, carrying buckets of water. guards, guarding doors and people standing in circles socializing

as your father, rhaenyra, baela and rhaena went inside to rest before supper you followed behind your step brothers, luke and jace as they walked around observing the atmosphere since it had been years since they have been here at the red keep

as you three stood at a large desk that displayed many swords and other weapons you heard bang that quickly caught your attention, you all walked over to the circle where the people had been gathered around as if they were watching a show

and they were in deed watching a show, two men fighting and it didn’t take you long to figure out who the two men were

ser criston cole and aemond targaryen.

you’ve heard many stories of them both. ser criston cole, once used to serve princess rhaenyra until her wedding night when he bashed her late husband’s best friends head into the ground and later that night went to serve the queen and no longer served rhaenyra

aemond the one eyed, everyone in your family hates him because he took baela and rhaena’s late mothers dragon which was the biggest dragon in kings landing and in return of him stealing their dragon, luke took his eye

you all stood behind the circle still getting a clear view on the men fighting

as both men fought your eyes stayed fixated on aemond, he was determined and patient with every move he made, his beautiful long white hair stopping midway down his back and swinging with his every movement

despite him having one eye his looks still captivated you as you watched him fight, winning so effortlessly too. even though you weren’t the one fighting him you still felt so intimidated

your breath picking up slowly as you watched him, everyone and everything slowly started to disappear and it was just you, watching him fight

but your moment was quickly ruined by the feeling of someone pulling on your arm, “stay away from him, he is nothing but trouble” jace said, snapping you back to reality

“i- i have no intention of going near him, im quite aware of who he is and i intend on staying far away from that” you said, trying to convince him and yourself

he nodded his head “good.”

“nephews have you come to train” you heard a voice call out, snapping you and jace away from your conversation

everyone in front of you, jace, and luke moving, giving you all a clear path way to the man speaking. aemond.

aemond looked at jace and luke, not paying you any mind while his sword was pointed at ser criston cole’s throat

“only watching uncle” luke spoke out

aemond dropped his sword and walked down the pathway the people had made, he stops right in front of all 3 of you

he was tall and his disposition dripped of dominance as he turned and looked down at you, the height difference slightly intimidating you

and there he stood, just looking at you as if everyone else around you both had never existed. his one eye was just green and devastating,

finally deciding to break the silence, you let down a low bow and stated your name

“it’s lovely to finally meet you, i’ve heard many things my prince” you say, waiting for him so say something

but he doesn’t say anything at all, he just nods and turns away, continuing his practice with ser criston

your advisor had taught you all the formalities, what to say to the higher ups and what they would say in return

and yet he didn’t say anything. which made you offended and slightly embarrassed

you weren’t quick to judge someone’s character only two words kept playing in your head after that encounter , rude and condescending. that was obviously what he is you thought to yourself

jace and luke step in front of you both with a lingering look worry on their faces. jace starts waving his hand and you snap out of your little day dream and let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding in

“are you quite alright?” jace finally asks

you put on a fake smile “of course, why do you ask” you say obviously knowing why he’s asking

“well,” luke interrupts “you look as if you’re about to breathe out fire” he says with a snort and jace slightly hits him on his arm

you let out a little laugh, “what luke is trying to say is that you look a little distraught, maybe you should go to your chambers and rest before supper”

you didn’t need to rest but maybe you could explore the castle a little bit before supper without them so you just nod

“do you need us to help you find your chambers?” jace asks

“no no i can manage that on my own but i shall see you two at supper” you say, letting down a low bow

they both return the bow as you walk off

~

you spent most of the afternoon exploring the great hall and the black cells. you wondered all around the red keep until you found your way to godswoods

godswoods is a large wooded sanctuary, used for meditation and worshiping the old gods, it was kind of like a garden except it only had one tree, a single large heart tree it was beautiful nonetheless, it had a sweet piney smell with large red leaves growing out if it

as you walked closer to the tree you saw beautiful pink flowers that you’d recognize from anywhere, snapdragons

you rushed over to the flowers and picked a couple, smelling them and smiling, it reminded you of your mother they were her favor-

“those are my mother’s flowers” you heard a familiar voice call out, snapping you away from your very thought

you signed before you even turned around, already having a clue on who it already was

you turned around and to your surprise you were right, it was aemond the rude prince and of course he just had to be ruining your mood once again

“my apologies my prince i had no knowledge that these were the queens” you said

“of course you didn’t” he quickly replied in such a dull manner

you let out a scoff and quickly drew yourself to him, “im sorry my prince but have i done something to you for you to be so cruel towards me” you finally let out

a fire burning in you as you spoke, you just wanted to know why he was giving you such a hard time as if you’ve done something to him

he looked you in the eyes not once breaking eye contact as he stepped closer to you, breaking the distance between you two as he lowered himself to whisper in your ear

“you simply do not belong here”

a wave of chills flashed through your body as he whispered those rude things into your ear, the heat of his breath on your earlobe made your speed of breath pick up

the way he talked down on you made you feel some type of way you couldn’t explain

you open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out

he steps back, waiting for you to say something and you know you have to say something back. you will not let him degrade you, you told yourself

you smile and slightly turn your head “and yet im still here my prince, isn’t that funny?” you question him

“and yet your here because of my mother, the queen, whom is only using you to get what she wants, thus is not be being cruel this is me humbling you to let you know you are not special, you are being used like the nothing you are”

everything around you had stopped and the word “nothing” just kept playing in your head

you looked up at him and before you knew it your hand went flying across his face. and you didn’t feel bad not one bit

he just ate the slap up. not flinching, not moving, nothing. which made you even more upset, so you just stormed off, happening to throw the flowers in the process

as you stomped around the red keep slowly trying to ease your mind you couldn’t stop thinking about why aemond was so cruel to you

you knew you deserved to be here. who cares what stupid aemond thought, its not like he’s the queen or the king so why should you care

but his mother is the queen and his father is the king, what if the queen or king think you don’t belong as well???

no, because why would you be here if they didn’t think you bel-

your inner thoughts stop as you felt your body smash into something hard and loud and you felt your body falling to the ground

you slowly rubbed your head looking up and what you just smashed into and to your surprise it was ser criston

you quickly stood up, not realizing he was holding out his arms in a attempt to help you up

“my apologies princess i did not see you there” he spoke in a such a formal voice as he placed his hands behind his back

“oh no it was completely my fault, i was so caught up in my thoughts i wasn’t even looking and please no need for the formalities,” you replied ask you told him your name

“if anything i should be acting that way towards you, i’ve heard such good things about you” you continued

he smiled. his smile was charming and sweet

“ i should hope they are only good things” he said

you nodded politely “ i must take my leave to prepare for supper but it was truly lovely to meet you, i hope we’ll become good friends” you said with a smile

“i shall hope so too” he replied with a low bow as you walked away

~

time had finally passed and you were ready for supper, your advisor had put you in this lovely red, shoulder less dress that had beautiful gold markings all over it

it was the most beautiful dress you had ever worn but it was heavy, you groaned at the fact that you would have to move in it

“you’ll get used to it” you advisor rose said as she grabbed your shoulders, trying to cheer you up

you truly liked rose, she wasn’t a mean or stuck up advisor she was honestly sweet, she taught you everything you know about formalities and dancing and marriage, she was like an older sister to you and plus she always knew how to make you feel better

she never made you feel out of place or never looked at you stupid for not knowing the simplest things. she was the perfect advisor in your eyes

“at least i wont have to do anything in it” you said, attempting to look on the bright side of wearing this heavy dress

roses face change “actually uhm, you might have to dance”

your face dropped, and suddenly you take back what you said. she isn’t perfect

“what!” you yelled as she jumped

“dont be scared at all, we’ve practiced all the the dances that the red keep practices.”

you rubbed your sore head, which was still sore from smashing into ser criston

“great” you muttered

“look on the bright side i mean, hopefully aemond will request a dance to apologize for how he treated you all day” rose smiled

“please wipe that smile off your face, i will respectfully decline because i truly have no desire of even breathing in the same air as that spoiled cunt of a prince”

you and rose both jumped as we heard a loud cough coming from the front of the room

ser criston. did he hear what you said?! and why was he in here and more importantly why didn’t he knock

rose quickly came in defense about that “excuse me ser criston you shall knock before you enter a princesses room” she said power walking towards him

“i did. 4 times my lady.” he simply muttered with an annoyed expression plastered on his face

“oh…well we were in deep conversation” rose continued

“yes, i heard” he replied

oh my seven gods, he most certainly heard you. you tightly closed your eye’s wishing you could just redo the whole day over

“i am here to escort the princess to supper” he finished

“oh yes of course” rose said as she rushed back over to you, finishing up your look as she placed a silver pendant necklace around your neck

as you looked down your eyes widened, your mother’s necklace, you’d thought you lost it when you arrived to dragonstone but here it was

and rose found it. she truly was perfect. you looked back at her and she just winked, slightly pushing you towards ser criston

as you and ser criston exited your room, he questioned what aemond had did to make you say what you said and you told him the honest truth about what happened earlier, for some reason you felt as if you could trust ser criston

ser criston shook his head in a disappointed manner before he quickly said “you must forgive him, he’s only like this because his touring for a wife was stopped so that yours could start”

your eyes widened at this new surprising information. this was very interesting you thought as you arrived at the great hall

ser criston opened the large long black door as he announced your name, as you walked in you’d seen everyone sitting at the supper table

and you were the last person to arrive, so all eyes were on you

as you walked over to the table, one of the many servants pulled out a chair, placing you right next to jace and you obviously didn’t mind at all, jace was quite entertaining but aemond happened to be sitting across the other side of the table staring right at you and jace

the supper was quite awkward, the room filled with silence and some music as well but the silence was much louder

no one talked and you were surprised, you knew the history between both families but at the end of the day they were a family and families pull through together and work out the differences and challenges, and you refused to be apart of this family if this was how it was going to be

so everyone’s surprise the king slowly stood up from chair, the queen who was sitting next to him quickly tried to help him but he waved her away with his hand

“it feels me with sorrow,” he struggled to get out

“to see all these faces i hold so dearly, be so distant towards eachother but please let us set aside out differences tonight, if not for the sake of the crown, then for the sake of this old man whom loves you all so dearly” he finished as he sat back down

jace quickly stood up and continued off the king “grandsire is right, let us all forgive even if it is only for the night but let us all dance”

the king agreed, waving the servants to play slow dancing music

your father danced with his wife rhaenyra, luke and jace danced with their betrothed baela and rhaena, aegon danced with helaena, queen alicent danced with her father because the king wasn’t able to dance so he just sat and watched his family enjoy their time together

yet here you were alone and so was aemond, you two just sat across from eachother

both of you refused to dance with one another, well not really but neither of you had asked the other to dance and you damn sure weren’t after how he treated you today

the king tapped his cane on the ground hard

“my son, why haven’t you requested a dance from our new guest? have you lost all your manners. i must apologize for my son princess” the king said

you shook your head “oh no it’s quite alright my king. i have no desi-“

“oh well thats two bad. aemond get up and dance with princess” the king quickly replied cutting you off

aemond stood and walked to the other side of the table, he placed his hand out “princess would you please be so kind and give me the pleasure of a dance”

you signed looking to the right and noticing ser criston and he just nodded, signaling you to say yes

you nodded and place your hand in his, his hands were large and rough

he held your hand tight as he escorted you to where everyone else was dancing

he pulled you in tight, his left hand lowered to your lower back and his right hand stayed in yours

aemond was strong and so dominant it made you scared but you couldn’t help yourself wanting more as he held you tight for the dance

you looked up at him and he was just staring at you, like you were something he had never seen before

and before you knew it, you had ruined the moment

“i truly do not like you aemond” you confessed

“i truly do not care” he replied back

“well you should because i know that your touring was cancelled because of me and its pathetic that you don’t like me over some stupid touring” you continued

his eyes darkened at the conversation “you don’t know anything princess”

“maybe but what i do know is that while im out touring happily with my new husband, you’ll be here alone. groveling at your mothers feet begging for her to let you tour”

“watch yourself princess before you get yourself into something you will fail to get yourself out of” he warned you, and you knew you had to stop but you were already fired up

you wanted him to get angry, it was payback afterall.

“its sad, everyone talks about how scary you are but as we stand here now i can see right through you and im not scared. i see you for who and what you truly are, nothing.” you finished mocking the words he said to you earlier

and it felt good seeing him angry until his hand went flying to your face

he grabbed your face hard. stopping you both from the dance as he said “i will destroy you before i dare to see you happy with a husband. i promise you that princess. so please enjoy your time here before you have to tour because while you’re touring ill be there. watching you and ruining any chance you have of happiness or any chance of you getting a husband”

you didn’t know what to say. you wanted to believe he was lying but the rage in his eyes said otherwise, he removed his hand and walked away

the anger built inside you once again as he walked away, getting the last word once again

~

supper had ended worse than it had started, before supper you were just uncomfortable because of the dress and the fact that you had to face aemond but now you were uncomfortable because of the dress and angry because of aemond

as you stomped back to your chambers ser criston was looking at you like you were a mad woman as he escorted you back

he had asked you what had happened, not because of the way you were stomping around like a baby but merely because he had saw what happened on the dancing court and he was no fool

you begged him not even to speak about it because it was far too embarrassing, him getting the last word and ser criston watching him get the last word and walking away whilst leaving you speechless

“you two seem to have a lot of tension towards eachother princess” you raised and eyebrow at ser cristons words

“tension? what is that” you questioned

“tension is like a lingering feeling in the air it could be a nervous feeling, angry feeling…..or maybe sexual” he said slowly dragging out his words

sexual? you certainly did not see aemond in that light because he was cruel and conniving little twat. he was attractive but cruel!

“pfft, probably the angry one, i have never disliked someone so much” you replied

“right right…” he finished in unbelieving tone

you just rolled your eyes

the rest of the the walk to you chambers were quiet, thankfully. you really did not want to hear anymore from ser criston about aemond but you couldn’t help but to think about what aemond meant when he said he would destroy you

would he kill you? or your future husband just to not see you happy

forget it. you thought as you stormed into your chamber

“how was the supper” rose said quickly rushing towards you and you groaned not even wanting to think about it or him.

“fuck the dinner. now please cut me out of this dress”

a little time passed and you had told rose what had happened as she was trying to get you out of the dress

“i still wonder what he meant by destroy you” she questioned

“me as well!” you replied with the question growing stronger the more and more you thought about it

“you should just storm in his room and question him” she said jokingly with a snorting laugh

rose was obviously joking but you thought it was quite a good idea

you looked back at poor rose as she was pulling the strings out of your dress and you just smiled

she stopped and shook her head “no no no princess i was just joking!!” she said in such concerning manner

“i know but would it be such a bad idea? i mean he did kinda threaten me and i have a right to know what he meant” you said trying to make some sense

“exactly! he threatened you and grabbed you with your whole family there so please imagine what he would do whilst you two were alone”

even after all the cruel things he said to you and the threat you somehow felt like aemond would hurt you

you shook your head in a dismissive manner “just get me out of this dress” you finished

and rose just sighed knowing she couldn’t do anything now because once you were started no one could get you to stop

you waited until rose had left to execute your plan

rose had put you in this almost see through night gown so you put on this white robe with gold outlining and wrapped it tight as you walked out of your chambers on the search for aemonds room

the red keep was so large you had no idea where to start so you did the easiest thing, you stopped a servant and simply asked them where prince aemonds room was and she led you there

as you got closer you noticed a guard at his door and you wondered how you would convince him to let you in, you didn’t feel like causing a scene so you just patiently waited for him to leave, certainly he had to use the restroom sometime soon

but he didn’t. you waited for what felt across the all for what felt like forever until the nightsguard left and you rushed as soon as he left, not knowing when he would return

you stormed into aemonds room, struggling to push open the big black heavy doors but when you did you shut the doors and yelled his name

you looked around observing his room, the dark demeanor. his room was so calming and clean, you didn’t know what you were expecting but it surly was not this

“why are you in my chambers” you finally heard him say as you saw him appear from the dim light

you had practiced what you planned to say but when you saw him it was nothing like what you had planned. he looked so beautiful in the dim candle light

“i won’t ask you again” he warned you, raising his voice

“i- i want to know what did you mean when you said you would destroy me… would you really kill me just to never see me happy? why aemond”

he let out a low smirk “you’ve barged into my room at the darkest of hours over this ridiculous question” he questioned you, drawing closer to you

only inches away and he towered over you and you could feel the heat radiating off his body “i can destroy you in so many ways without killing you”

he lifted your face with his fingers, forcing you to look him right in the eyes as whispered “i can show you how”

the look in his eye filled with desire and lust you didn’t know if you should have said yes or no so you said nothing at all

he placed his thumb on your lip, slowly and gently tracing it as he leaned closer to you

your breathing was heavy and so was his. you both wanted this, wanted eachother. “say yes” he whispered again yet this time you could hear the desperation in his voice

“let me touch you” he said as he slowly trailed his hands over your covered body

starting at your bare neck and working his way down your covered breasts, apply more tension as he slowly felt them in his hand

but he stopped. and continued to trail his hand down until he stopped at your stomach and felt the strings of your robe. all he he had to do was untie them, just to reveal enough of you

and he did, you felt the cold air hit your skin as the robe released slowly from your body, aemond continued where he started now that he had more access to you

as his hand slid down from your stomach until he reached your clit. he lifted up your nightgown as he continued to play with your wet clit

his name escaped your lips, “aemond” you softly breathed, eyes closed at his teasing. desperately trying not to clench around his rough fingers. he didn’t answer you, instead he removed his fingers which made your eyes shoot open

you opened your mouth to say something but he was faster

“beg for it,” he told you. you stopped trying to comprehend what he just said.

“please aemond i need to feel you. please” you whispered so desperately. which made his arousal grow. you felt him hardening against you

“destroy every part of me. please” as you whispered those dirty words you could see the look in aemonds eye was no long filled with desire but with need.

aemond smashed his lips into yours and he kissed you hard as he pulled you in closer, he wanted to feel you against him as your bodies moved in sync as you kissed

he moved his hands behind your body and grabbed your ass hard just before he lifted you up to give both of you more access to eachother as you kissed without him breaking his neck because he was quite tall

you wrapped your legs around him as you moved your hands to his long white hair and slightly tugged on as he lowered his kisses down your neck, roughly biting on your neck the feeling of pain and pleasure mixing together perfectly.

you tilted your head back at the pleasure. aemond wasn’t much older than you and he was so experienced, he knew how to pleasure you

and the fact that you hated him made you want it all the more. it was like a taste of forbidden fruit, and you loved every second of it

aemond still held you in his arms as he walked over to his desk, there were many papers on top of the desk but he didn’t care as he swiped them off, letting them fall to the ground as layed you on top

he admired the view. you sat yourself up on your elbows and looked down remembering the nightgown was slightly see through. a confident smirk grew on your face

“do you like what you see” you asked in such a seductive voice as you leaned up against him

you took your hand and licked it, making sure it was wet enough just before you slid it in his pants

he was thick and long, you grabbed his cock and jerked it in his pants

he groaned, and it was like music to your ears but that music quickly stopped as he pulled your hand out and simply whispered “if you put your hands somewhere i didn’t tell you to put them then i will tie you to this table and leave you here. do you understand” he said in such a dark and sexy voice

you nodded, which made him slide his hand up your neck he applied pressure and said “use your words”

“yes aemond, i understand” you complied

“good girl” he whispered, sending shivers down your spine, causing your nipples to harden at the chills

he walked away towards his bed and grabbed something off his nightstand, you tried to peak over to see what he grabbed but he yelled “lay back down” and you did

the table felt cold on your hot skin as you layed back down. you heard his footsteps coming closer

you got excited thinking about what he would do to you. you might have hated him but you loved how excited he got you

when you felt him closer you lifted yourself up on your elbows once again to see him or to see what he had

and it was a knife, a very small yet very sharp

you felt the pace of your breathing picking up as he slowly slid the knife from your stomach to your neck. he grabbed your dress at the collar and sliced your dress right down the middle

“aemond!” you yelled as the ruined dress fell from your sides. he lifted your face with the knife with a smile, making sure you were looking at him as he whispered “it wasn’t revealing enough. i want to have access to all of you” pulling your naked body body closer to him. you jump at the feeling, your naked wet clit against his crotch

the notices and uses it against his full advantage. his hand wrapped around your throat slightly pulling you closer against him

“you will do as i say when i fuck you,” he muttered low. arousal floods you at his words and you nod silently

“so no talking back like how you did at supper or i will punish you in ways you cannot imagine. i only want to hear yes or no, do you understand”

you buck up against him, aching to feel something, anything. his grip tightens around your neck “do you hear me” he demands you to answer

his dominance causing your face to heat up. you weren’t expecting him to seduce you into submission but nonetheless you love it. “y-yes, yes, aemond. i hear you and i understand.” you gasp, your arousal becoming more needy as the words leave you

he smiles darkly then nods. “good”

he lifted you up off the table and removed the torn dress completely, as he grabbed your hand and led you a few feet away from the table

“get on your knees” he demanded, and you did

the floor was cold and rough on your knees. he walked back towards the table and grabbed the chair that was on the other side of the table. he moved the chair where you two were moments before, where your torn dress had layed

he sat down in the chair and widened his legs as he rested his arms on the armrests. “crawl.” he muttered

making the chills you once had come back with just one word as you placed you hands on the floor. you slowly crawled towards him, you could feel your juices slowly flowing down your legs as you crawled to him, naked and exposed

aemond is everywhere. his smell, his staring, his hands, his lust. you want him to be inside you and you want to taste him.

once you crawled to him, he made you stop he lifted your face up to make sure you were looking directly at him as he whispered “ i want you to suck my cock and i wanna see tears in those pretty little eyes as i cum in that little mouth” his dirty words sending shivers down your spine

“and when im done you’re gonna spit the cum back on my cock so i can fuck it right back into you, do you understand?” he whispered again

“yes aemond”

as he pulled his pants down you gazed up at him, wide eyed and innocent waiting patiently for him as he finally releasing his hard cock. the precum dripping onto his pale legs

as he pulled out his cock you caught a glimpse of all the veins, so pretty against his skin. your mouth watered at the sight

taking the tip of his cock in your hand as you ran the tip of your tongue along each vein, teasing him ever so slightly as he threw his head back, choking on his breath. you smiled against his tip, god you loved this sight. seeing him so pleasured over the smallest touch u gave him. so desperate for your tongue and your hot mouth

twisting your hair into a ponytail as he gripped it, guiding you to where he wanted. taking all of him in your mouth, you moaned at the taste of his precum filling the back of your throat. the vibrations of your moans enhanced his sensations against your mouth

once youd stabled your pace and adjusted your mouth to his big size he pulled you in deeper. he wanted to feel all of you and he most certainly did. it was messy, your spit and his precum everywhere. the sound of his groans sending waves of pleasure to your wet and untouched clit. you rubbed your legs together trying to feel something as you wait patiently and desperately for him to touch you

he looked down at the beautiful sight of his cock so full in your mouth. and fuck it was a sight for sore eyes.

the tip of his cock grazed the back of your throat, making you gag slightly as he ran his thumb across your jaw “thats my girl. fucking take it. all of it” he groaned so deep and sexy

fuck you need him.

he began thrusting inside your mouth, the tears began to gather in your eyes and then slowly ran down your cheeks. wiping away your tears with his thumbs as he pulled back, allowing you to breathe before thrusting it back into your throat but even harder than before. he could see he was stretching out your throat. “such a good girl, such a good fucking girl” he moaned as he neared his orgasm

he pulled you head back with your hair “gonna cum….fuck im gonna cum” he whimpered. pulling back slightly as he came on your tongue, yanking you up by your hair to force you to look at him through your wet eyelashes

“spit it out” he demanded, his stare intense and long before you dribbled it right on his tip, mixed with some of your saliva and a little bit of precum

he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you on top of him, you felt his wet cock against your wet aching clit and you whimpered at the feeling

he grabbed his cock and teased you. just moving the tip of his cock against your wet clit, not daring to put it in

“please aemond please” you whimpered so desperate and destroyed but he liked it like that

“god you’re so fucking wet and just for me” you nodded

“yes aemond, just for you baby” you moaned, slightly grinding against his tip. taking anything he gave you. and fuck he loved it like that

to see you so desperate and destroyed that you would take anything and go with it. he did make a promise after that he indeed intended to keep

“show me how bad you want it. fuck me like a good girl” he said before he slowly slid it inside of you, without warning as you felt him stretching you out

you shot your head back, eyes rolling as you begin bouncing on his cock and gripped your waist hard, feeling your hips move against him. “fuck” he whimpered “go fucking slow”. slowing your pace you rolled your hips back and forth

you gripped at his shirt, desperate to ground yourself as you felt his cock hitting in places you didn’t think you could handle. “aemond” you moaned, he groaned at the way his name left your lips. it drove him feral. he grabbed you by your face, keeping the sexy eye contact between you both

“cum on my cock, i know you can do it. show me how good i make you feel” you were near your high but his praising made you even closer, your hips becoming lazy and slow. as you ground your hips he thrusts inside you, making you almost scream as you reach your high

your head falls into his neck as you came. finally being able to breathe but he grabs your face and by the look in his eye you can tell you’re not done yet

“one more time baby, you can do it.” he reassured you as he picked you up, you struggled to wrap your legs around him but you did. he layed you on the table once again

he wastes no time in thrusting himself in you, the stretch is unimaginable and he gives you no time to adjust, his hips are unforgiving, fucking you open and letting the juices of your arousal spill everywhere

“why so quiet now princess? you had so much to say at supper. but now your laying on my table on full display only for me” he said with an evil chuckle

fuck. his words turned you on.

“you would let me do anything to you? wouldn’t you?” he asked as his thrusts got harder

“fuck. yes anything you want aemond” you gasped out, one hand gripping your jaw until it opens for him, your mind clouded only thinking about your high

he spits into your mouth, saliva warm and intoxicating as you swallow it happily, nodding in a daze “ im gonna fuck you crazy aren’t i? and you won’t think about nothing but me for days”

he’s right, and he fucking knows it

you just keep nodding, unable to form the words as he hits your spot again and again and it nearly makes you pass out. your hands ache from gripping on the table so you wrap them around his back, pulling him closer as he splits you wide open and takes you apart

your nails dig into his pale skin, you know it will leave marks and good. you want him to think about you as much as you will of him

you’re so close you might cry as the sensation of tingling lingers through your thighs, leaving your toes curling snd your legs shaking

he’s close too, his thrusts are getting slower and sloppier

“whose pussy is this?” aemond grunts, his movements soon deep and desperate. you can’t form the words over the pain, the pain is fucking delicious as you dig your nails up in down all over his skin

he slightly slaps your abused clit “-y-yours, fuck aemond- yours, i belong to you” you cry breathless

you feel his smirk grow against your neck as you both reach your high together, both breathless as he lays on top of you

he gets off of you and you close your eyes for a couple of moments before they shoot open, realizing what you have just done

you will be ruined you thought as you shot up. aemond was sitting in the chair you were not so long ago in, putting on his pants and his shirt

you jumped off the table struggling to stand. you looked for your shoes as you heard aemond call you name

“god i will be ruined” you kept repeating

“you need to relax, you shouldn’t be walking yet” he warned you

“fuck you” you muttered, hoping he didn’t hear you but be did

he laughed “well you just did”

you glared at him as you grabbed your robe and tied it around you “this never happened” you simply said before you pushed open the big doors and left

————

A/N - omg i hope you guys enjoyed, requests are open!

[writingsofwesteros]

I had a thought 👀 imagine if one of those times Laenor and Rhaenyra tried together did actually bear fruit, and she had one trueborn Velaryon daughter with him, her eldest, her heir, born a year before Jace. Princess Rhaelys Velaryon. Laenor named her for his parents. She still has dark hair, though with silver streaks mixed in, her dark hair actually coming from his mother's half Baratheon blood lolol, so it's not as bad on her brothers dealing with the bastard accusations when they aren't silver haired😆

Laenor and Rhaenyra with another man being bi lavender poly is a golden gift from this page lately, honestly. I think I need that too, oopsie, so he doesn't die here. Though maybe someone other than Criston this time... Ali can have him... 🤔...... I think Gwayne Hightower would be a good shared knight for Rhaenyra x Laenor here 👀 and the father to a red-haired Jace, Luke and Joff...

What if she was bold and defiant, taking too much after her mother and grandparents.. she claimed the dragon Vermithor "the Bronze Fury" as a girl... barely older than her aunt Laena was when she had claimed Vhagar in the past... the same age Aemond was when he claimed Vhagar on Driftmark... her claiming Vermithor just months before...

Even when her parents+Gwayne move their family unit to Dragonstone, she insists on staying in the capital for a while longer. Being cupbearer to her grandfather and then maid and tending to him when his health declines... what if Aemond is obsessed with his trueborn niece, especially after the Driftmark incident.. she was the only one who went to check on both her uncle and her brother after their fight, and returned with them to King's Landing as her grandfathers ward still... and while she returns his affections, she knows nothing will come of it with all the bad blood between him and her brothers and their parents... when their relationship is discovered and it is in fact denied vehemently by both of their mothers, even though he took her maidenhood, it comes to a swift end, with her not fighting to stay with him.. and returning to her parents on Dragonstone, Laenor having come to get his daughter to bring her home...

Aemond is none the wiser to her baring his bastard son some months after returning home, Rhaenyra going to great lengths ensuring news of it doesn't leave Dragonstone or Driftmark as long as her father is alive... Gwayne also begrudgingly agreeing not to tell his sister or father.. knowing Aemond would probably show up on Vhagar as he nearly did once or twice since she left him... speaking with Rhaelys in depth of it.. knowing she doesn't want to cause a fight.. her knowing too well the hatred he still holds for her brother Luke after Driftmark... loving him but not trusting him and brother... Gwayne, wanting to keep her and the babe at peace here just as much as Rhaenyra and Laenor, and also worrying for his second son, agrees not to mention the boy in his letters...

She named her son Aemon Waters. After her grandmothers father, the true Heir Prince Aemon, of course.. but also, unspokenly, for Aemond as well... As time goes on, and she heals from the birth and goes riding back and forth between Dragonstone and Driftmark once more, always avoiding flying too near the capital, though.. not wanting to catch sight of him... her constantly visiting her grandparents and cousins Baela and Rhaena, who are both maybe wards there, with Daemon returning to the Stepstones after Laenas death instead of Corlys 🤔... she begins spending more time in other places on Driftmark Island... taking young Aemon through the stalls of the bustling market in Spicetown with her cousins... visiting her grandfather while working in Hull.. she meets a handsome, strapping sailor one day... and swears he looks so familiar... so like her grandfather... she grows to quite like him and his rugged charm... and gives chase like a dragon to pray when he tries everything to avoid her attention... eventually breaking through his patience and making him have his way with her on the beach... hoping the princess got what she wanted and will leave him be now... only for her obsession to grow tenfold after knowing his touch...

Aemond is soooooo not happy when news reaches them in King's Landing after Vissy has died and the war has started brewing, whispers of her having a natural son that was born not too long after their relationship ended... the boy having pure silver hair.. his name Aemon... putting the pieces together.... and also hearing whispers of her growing to quite love her bastard uncle, Alyn of Hull 👀 Aemond hearing of Rhaelys doing with Alyn what she didn't do with him... fighting with and defying her mother when again her choice of man is refused... and this time marrying him regardless of allowances... her being pregnant with the Oakenfists child also being rumored heavily... now he really just might fly to Driftmark in his rage.... he just might turn to the blacks and bend the knee.. only if Rhaenyra legitamizes their son and allows him to become her heirs second husband... what a shame for the cold prince that his bold princess has a great big heart with enough room to love both him and her sailor equally... and a temper to match her dragons and stop them from killing each other over her... barely... she might have ways to make them get along, though....

:) ;) Tag name suggestion: old flames burning anew

ALL OF THIS

I love !!

Poor Aemond !!

[lizzie-queenofmeigas]

Who do you think Dany has more in common with, Rhaena or Baela?

Many may think the obvious answer is Rhaena, but I think is really Baela whom she has more things in common.

–Baela and Dany are both very active and love to ride.

–Baela preferred to wear more "boyish" clothes and Dany also did when with the Dothraki she wore what they wore.

–They both have a green dragon.

–Baela hit some Kingsguard who wanted to cage her with a riding crop. Dany hit a slave master with a whip.

–They both like to spend time with the common people and soldiers. Baela was the darling of the city and got along with the Gold Cloaks and Dany went personally to tend the ill.

–Also, Baela cropped her hair and Dany was bold for a time and had it short.

–Dany likes the sea and Baela likes to swim.

I also think they look alike, although Dany has fairer eyes and she probably looks more like Rhaena.

I love the asks about Dany and Baela.