#but i am soft for reader and aemond too

[bat-revival]

Down in Flames (modern!HOTD)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

pairings: modern!Aegon x Reader & modern!Aemond x Reader

summary: You're invited! To a totally not awkward dinner party at the home of Viserys and Alicent, as they attempt to smooth over the animosity between the members of their family.

warnings: 18+ spicy stuff below the cut (explicit sexual situations, oral fem receiving, edging) language, mentions of Aemond's eye injury, fighting, blood, alcohol/drinking

word count: 6.7k

note: another long one because this fic is literally my baby 💚

masterlist

As Aemond pulls up the car to his mother’s house, your whole body tenses. The home of Viserys and Alicent Targaryen looms in the distance up a winding stone driveway. Lights mark a path of stars toward the front door, the glow warm and inviting. It appears as though every room in the mansion is lit, as though burning from within. 

The last time you were at the Targaryen home was nearly a year ago. Christmas time. A different brother in the driver’s seat.

“Why are we doing this again?” you ask Aemond.

“Viserys wants us to,” Aemond said, fingers curling on the wheel, his knuckles blanching. 

Aemond’s jaw and shoulders are tense as he slouches over the wheel. He looks the same as when he received the call from his mother; irritated but dutiful nonetheless. Aemond was not one to disappoint Alicent Hightower.

“This is such a shitty idea,” you tell him.

“Well he’s a shitty father so it only makes sense,” Aemond says, smiling tightly.

“At least he’s consistent,” you agree. 

“You’re funny,” Aemond says, getting out of the car.

You unbuckle your seatbelt and go to open the door, but somehow Aemond has beaten you to it, opening the car door for you. He extends a hand, helping you out of the car. 

“What a gentleman,” you tell him, earning a hum, “you gonna carry me across the threshold too?”

“You want me to?” he asks, lips tugging into a smirk.

That would cause a riot, you’re sure of it. Though you admit, the thought is tempting. You roll your eyes, shoving him with your shoulder. When Alicent called Aemond telling him to come for dinner, she proposed it as a rather extravagant dinner party. Anything the Targareyns did was extravagant if you were being honest. 

Apparently it was Viserys’ idea, to ease the tension between the band, and between Rhaenrya. You hadn’t seen Rhaenyra in a long time, and shit was definitely about to go down.

Which led to you having to run home to your apartment to grab your favorite dress. A silky green number that hugged your every inch perfectly, wrapped around you like a second skin. Aemond chose a dark suit, the entire number pitch black. It’s as though Aemond has an aversion to color, despite the blue gemstone that replaced his eye.

“Ha ha,” you joke, walking next to him up the driveway and to the cobblestone walkway that leads to the front door.

Your heels click against the stone, the only sound in the cool night. The air is brisk, and your breath puffs in front of you like a cloud of smoke. It had been days since the blowup. Since Aegon and Cass. Since Rhaena. Your stomach turns at the thought of seeing them both. Everyone is coming no doubt, if this is supposed to be some sort of reconciliation dinner.

You stop just outside the door, bathed in the light that hangs above the door. A beautiful seven pointed star spilling diamonds of light on the stoop.

“You ready?” Aemond asks, sliding his hand into yours sending your heart fluttering. 

“As I’ll ever be,” you tell him and he knocks on the door.

The knocker is huge, a dragon holding a ring between its jaws. The door opens rather quickly to Alicent, Aemond’s mother. Her auburn hair is held away from her face, and she wears a sparkling green sweater and dress pants. Her face breaks out into a relieved smile at the sight of her second son.

Alicent always takes your breath away; she had Aegon terribly young, her face still youthfully beautiful as she has just started to gracefully age. 

“Aemond,” she breathes, pulling him into a hug.

“Hey mom,” he says, placing a kiss on her head. 

The sweet action makes your heart swell. Alicent turns to you. 

“And Y/N!” she says, embracing you, “it's been too long dearest.”

Alicent’s hug nearly makes you burst into tears. You let yourself get lost in her arms for a moment, breathing in her Chanel N°5 perfume. As she pulls away she places a hand under your chin.

“Beautiful as ever, I see,” she compliments, causing you to blush.

“Come in! Let's get out of the cold,” she says, ushering you inside, “Helaena is here already.”

Thank every deity that exists, Helaena is your saving grace. As you walk in the foyer you hear a loud bark, before a bundle of golden fur barrels towards you. Instinctively you drop to your knees, fingers tangling in soft tufts of fur as a warm wet tongue laps at your cheeks.

“Sunfyre!” Alicent scolds, grabbing for the golden retriever’s collar.

“It’s okay, really,” you tell her through laughs as the excited dog continues to push himself into your lap.

Sunfyre always did think he was a lapdog rather than the gigantic ball of fluff he was. You let him lick your face a moment more, scratching at his neck generously, earning several wags of his tail. 

“He’s such a spoiled boy,” Alicent scolds, finally tugging him away from you, “I’ll have to put him upstairs or he’ll overturn the table.” 

You rise from the floor wiping slobber from your cheeks. Helaena appears from down the hall eagerly, smiling at you. She swishes over to you, gold skirts following her like a trail of liquid sunlight. 

“Hey guys,” Helaena says, “you ready for this?”

“Who told him this was a good idea?” Aemond asks, taking your coat. 

“I don’t know, not me obviously,” Helaena says, shrugging, “but I think it's a bunch of things, you know?”

You nod, as footsteps come eagerly crashing down the stairs, drawing your attention. A lanky boy with shaggy silver hair appears, violet eyes sparkling. 

“Ohmygod Daeron!” you exclaim, as the youngest Targaryen sibling comes to the end of the stairs. 

His grin is lopsided as he throws his arms around you, nearly lifting you off of the floor. He’s grown since studying abroad, no longer a scrappy teen.

“Hey Y/N!” he says, squeezing you before releasing you. 

He clasps Aemond’s hand in a friendly shake before looking around. 

“Where’s Aeg? Not with you?” Daeron asks, brow furrowing. 

“Uh,” you tell him, “that’s really a long story.”

“Dude I told you,” Helaena says, rolling her eyes, “there’s been some shifting around here.”

“Right, right,” Daeron said apologetically, “sorry, so you two are…?”

You and Aemond glance at each other. 

“Yeah,” Aemond answers, “yeah we are.”

You can’t help but smile. Daeron nods, approvingly.

“Cool, I can get behind that,” he tells you, as the door opens again. 

Baela is just slipping out of her coat, Alicent closing the door behind her and Jace. She meets your eyes. You haven’t spoken in days, it's the longest you’ve gone without talking. You decide to give her space, walking into the formal living space where a barcart has been prepared with several bottle of wine. 

Baela kisses Alicent politely and you turn around pouring her a glass of wine, along with one for yourself. A peace offering. As you turn back, Baela has already made her way to you. 

“Hey,” she greets, awkwardly.

“Hey,” you say, matching her energy, “Chardonnay?”

A smile twists on her lips before she takes the glass from you.

“You know me well,” she says, clinking her glass against yours.

“Mhmm,” you answer, taking a sip from your own glass, unsure of what to say.

“You done being stupid?” she tells you, the question filled with all the love only a best friend can deliver.

“I missed you,” you tell her and she sighs dramatically.

“I’ve missed you too, can this all stop now?” she tells you, “if I have to spend one more night chilling with Jace and Luke watching football I’m going to go crazy. Do you understand how annoying they are?”

You snicker.

“One of those people is your boyfriend,” you remind her.

“Doesn’t mean he can’t be annoying,” she answers, “he doesn’t take the place of a best friend.”

You smile so wide you think your face will split in half. You’ve missed her so much. You wonder if making amends with Rhaena will be as easy, but something in your gut twists telling you it will not. 

“Where’ve you been staying?” Baela asks, sipping her wine.

“Helaena’s sometimes,” you tell her, “and at the apartment.”

Baela raises her eyebrows.

“Girl, you’re ballsy,” she says, laughing a little.

“What? Is that bad?” you ask, frowning.

Baela purses her lips, giving you an ‘are you for real?’ look.

“Getting dicked down one room over from the one you used to share with your ex?” she asks.

“It’s not like Aegon is there,” you hiss, cheeks burning. 

“Mhmm,” Baela says, a mischievous glint in her eye, “you’re going to have to tell me all about it. Every single dirty detail. Was I right?”

“About what?”

Baela rolls her eyes, as though you should know exactly what she’s talking about. 

“About Aemond eating pussy like a champ,” she tells you. 

Your whole body grows warm remembering his mouth on you. Baela’s mouth drops open as you fail to answer, as she watches your cheeks darken as you take a small sip from your glass.

“I fucking knew it!” Baela hollers, smiling while she answers, “you’re getting dicked down, slurped out-” 

Jace makes his way over and you’re shushing her relentlessly as she laughs. 

“What’re we talking about?” he asks, smiling at you.

“Y/N’s turned into a bad girl,” Baela says, causing Jace to flush and avoid your eyes. 

“Um okay?” Jace says, scratching the back of his neck.

“She totally is,” Luke says joining, jumping into the conversation, “she Yoko’d us.”

“Excuse me?” you ask, nearly choking on your wine. 

Luke raises his eyebrows at you, sipping on the beer he holds, before shoving one hand into his pocket. You don’t know when he even arrived, you hadn’t heard the door open. 

“You know, broke up the band?” Luke says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“I didn’t break up the band,” you tell him, “I didn’t!”

“Mhmm,” Luke says, sipping his drink. 

“That makes no sense,” Baela says, frowning at Luke.

“It makes sense to me,” he answers. 

“Okay Luke,” you tell him laughing.

This feels good. Normal even. You feel your nerves begin to ease when Rhaena enters the room. You meet her eyes as her forehead creases when she notices you. Luke clears his throat before walking over to greet her. 

“She’s Luke’s date,” Jace tells you. 

“Bae,” Rhaena calls, waving over her sister. 

Baela gives you an apologetic smile.

“Talk later?” she says, squeezing your hand.

“Yeah,” you tell her, “she can’t be mad at me forever, can she?”

Baela’s expression does nothing but fuel the anxiety that burns under your skin. 

“Just give her time,” Baela answers, “she’ll be okay. She just needs a little more time.”

Baela squeezes your hand before walking across the room to join her. Aemond materializes beside you, his cologne making your mouth water. Rhaena’s stare burns through you.

“Let me talk to her,” Aemond murmurs, leaning down to whisper in your ear. 

“Not now,” you tell him.

“Later,” he agrees, a hand lazily wrapping a hand around your waist.

Something you’ve learned about Aemond since making it official; he cannot keep his hands to himself. His hand remains when the door opens, Aegon and Cass stumbling in. Cass supports Aegon against her, his arm draped over her shoulders. She’s terribly pretty, dressed in a silk dress that matches her eyes. Aegon is barely dressed, shirt untucked, tie hanging limply around his neck. Your brow creases and you can’t stop the worry you feel noting his red rimmed eyes.

He’s getting worse. You didn’t even think that was possible.

Daemon and Rhaenyra enter behind them, Rhaenyra rolling her eyes as she crosses the threshold. There is something unnervingly beautiful about Rhaenyra Targaryen, like she stepped out of a storybook. 

Daemon sends you a nod, after eyeing Aemond’s arm around your waist and you look away from him. Something about Daemon’s look makes your skin crawl, as though he’s saying you and I aren’t so different. 

“Let’s sit, everyone,” Alicent calls, clanging a fork against her glass, “dinner is ready.”

“Great,” Aegon says, pushing by you, “I’m starving.”

The table is silent beside the clanging of silverware against the fanciest plates you’ve seen. Viserys joined, wheeled in by Alicent’s private bodyguard Criston Cole, and he’s barely conscious, wheezing over his plate. If he notices the tension between the members of his family he does not comment on it.

Alicent’s eyes flicker throughout the room, her nose twitches like a nervous rabbit. You glance at Aemond, but he remains looking forward. Gods this is so awkward. You meet Rhaena’s eyes and she quickly looks away, mouth remaining in a frown. You feel yourself flush, as a hand creeps to your knee. Aemond’s fingers rub soothing circles on your skin, before giving your knee a comforting squeeze. 

You’re in so deep.

You’re at the most awkward family dinner of your life, and all you can think about is how you wish Aemond would let his hand creep higher under your dress.

Bad girl. Stop that. You shake the thought from your head. 

Daemon laughs into his plate, earning a stern glance from Rhaenyra. Cass sits bright eyed next to Aegon, seemingly just happy to be here. Viserys leans up from his plate, glancing around the room.

“I’m so…happy you’re all here,” he says, speaking for the first time.

Mumbles happen, lots of ‘of course Dad’ and ‘yeahs.’

“Business can tear families apart, but even with two creative visions, we are still a strong foundation,” he continues, “still one family.”

You raise your eyebrows. It’s like Viserys doesn’t have a clue what’s been going on. He simply smiles around the room revealing several missing teeth.

“And my song,” Viserys says looking at the ceiling, “my child you sing it so beautifully.”

You’re not sure which child Viserys is referring to. 

You meet Baela’s eyes, her confused expression mirrors yours. The other faces around the room also appear perplexed at Viserys’ statement. Daeron looks the most confused, as though he’s not quite sure what this dinner was supposed to be about in the first place.

“I’m tired Aemma,” Viserys says suddenly, “I’m going to bed. The rest of you enjoy.”

His eyes are watery, gaze confused as he begins to rise from his seat.

Your heart pounds and you glance at Alicent, though she barely seems fazed by Viserys calling her the name of his first wife. She simply watches him stand, and leave the room while remaining seated. 

“Okay fuck that,” Aegon says suddenly.

Rhaenyra glares at him, but he continues to smile. 

“Dad wrote that song for us,” Aegon tells her.

“He gave it to me, asshole,” Rhaenyra snaps.

“It’s a song about all of us,” Aegon argues, “you don’t get it just cause you decided to fuck off.”

Rhaenyra almost lets it go, Daemon watching her closely. But Aegon can’t help himself as he finishes his drink. You can see down his throat, that’s how wide he opens up making sure every last drop of whiskey makes in his gullet. Cass looks at him, eyebrows knitting together.

“Entitled bitch,” he grunts, and Jace stands.

“Why don’t you just sing it together?” Cass asks, taking Aegon’s hand in hers. You watch her squeeze it. Aegon hates holding hands. You meet his lavender gaze. 

“Never going to happen,” Aegon tells her, not pulling away from Cass’s grip. 

“It’s my song Aegon, it was mine long before you were here,” Rhaenyra continues, “I’ve made the edits, I sang the demo-”

“Are you still talking?” Aegon snaps, causing Cass to flinch beside him at his harsh tone. 

“Okay, Aegon enough,” Jace tells him, resting his hands on the table. He hasn’t sat down.

“You’re on her side now?” Aegon asks, “that’s it huh?”

“It’s her song,” Jace argues, “this doesn’t have to be a huge fight.”

Luke laughs, a small snort escapes him but it's enough to set Aemond off. He stands from his chair beside you, eye narrowing at Luke. Aegon’s eyes are glassy, they seem to glow with mischief at the tension in the room. He loves provoking people. 

“No it only has to be a fight when it's something you care about,” Aegon argues. 

Your blood runs cold, watching Aegon’s gaze flicker toward Aemond. Jace turns red, but he keeps his gaze averted from Aemond. From Luke. 

“We’re not talking about that,” Jace argues.

The accident. 

You look up at Aemond who is standing unnaturally still. You can’t help but wonder if Aegon is bringing it up just to provoke him, rather than from a place of genuine concern. 

“We are now,” Aegon tells him, leaning back in his chair, “my brother gets maimed and its all, no let's keep playing, but one little song-”

“Shut up Aegon,” Luke snaps, fingers gripping his cutlery so tightly his knuckles turn white. 

“No, I’m not done,” Aegon says standing, “what’s got you so loyal to Nyra, huh?”

“Fuck Aegon,” Jace says shaking his head, “its just about being a decent person.”

Aegon scoffs at that.

“I don’t think anyone here has a fucking clue about what that means,” he says laughing. 

“You included, asshole,” Baela snarls from across the table, “do you have any idea what you’ve been putting us through?”

“Everyone seems fine,” Aegon answers, an angry gaze falling to you, “happy even.”

“You don’t need to agree,” Rhaenyra says suddenly, “Jace and Luke have already agreed to drop the song and re-record it with me.”

“Fucking of course,” Aegon says, shaking his head.

“Enough of this,” Alicent orders, “let’s have a nice remainder of dinner.”

Aemond sits back down at his mother’s words. You bring your hand to his leg. 

“I’m having a lovely time,” Aegon insists, leaning back and resting his arm across Cass’s shoulders.

“Aegon,” Aemond says, voice low. Aegon meets his gaze, mouth tugging upwards into a smirk.

“What?” he challenges.

“Enough,” Aemond says, to the surprise of Rhaenyra who leans back in her chair, glancing at Daemon. 

“Are you on her side too?” Aegon asks, voice venomous.

“Of course not,” Aemond tells him.

“Steal my girlfriend, break up the band, things are going really well-”

Aegon is cut off as Aemond stands once more. Aegon slams his glass to the table, the glass shattering loudly under his palm. Cass screams, and blood begins to pool on the table.

“Eggy, you’ve cut yourself!” she cries, eyes wide with terror.

“Let’s fucking go! Right now!” Aegon yells, ignoring his injury and walking toward Aemond.

Daemon leans back in his chair, a smirk playing on his lips at the show in front of him. Luke stands up and Aegon pushes by him, slamming him against the table. Rhaena yells and the dinner quickly turns into chaos. 

Aemond slams his fist into Aegon’s chest as he approaches, causing him to fall backwards onto the table. Aegon punches his brother, blood from his hand leaving a streak on Aemond’s cheek. You push back in your chair, feel Alicent’s hands on your shoulders pulling you away from the brothers. 

“You had enough? Huh?” Aemond growls, grabbing Aegon by the shirt.

“Fuck you!” Aegon spits directly in Aemond’s face.

Aemond growls, slamming him back on the table once more, fist reeling back. 

“Let me go!” Aegon cries, as though they were small boys again tussling. 

“Alright, alright enough!” Criston Cole comes between them, pulling Aemond away from Aegon.

“Fuck you!” Aegon yells, and Aemond wipes the blood on his cheek, “come on we’re leaving.”

Cass hurriedly stands, gathering her things. Alicent moves toward her eldest. 

“Aegon,” she begs, but he brushes past her, Cass trailing behind. 

The room is deathly silent now that the commotion has ceased, aside from the soft dripping noises from a spilled glass of wine. Daemon begins to chuckle to himself, before rising from his seat. 

“Shall we?” he says, motioning for Rhaenyra.

“You’ve only just arrived,” Alicent says, her eyes sad. 

“Thank you, for dinner truly,” Rhaenyra says, clasping Alicent’s hand in her own.

She turns to Jace and Luke.

“I’ll see you in the studio, tomorrow?” she asks, and the boys nod. 

Aemond and Helaena stay silent, though they exchange a glance. Daeron has barely moved the entirety of dinner, eyes wide and cheeks red. Rhaenyra smiles as Daemon holds out her coat. 

“Nice seeing you,” he murmurs to you as they walk past.

“You’re really recording with her?” you ask, eyes trained on Jace.

“It’s her song,” he says, meeting your gaze. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Baela says, taking his hand, “I’ll talk to you later.”

Rhaena stands with Luke, not looking at you.

“Rhae-”

“Just don’t,” she says, shaking her head, “just…not tonight.”

Luke squeezes her on the shoulder and leads her from the room. You look toward Aemond, notice him flexing his hand.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” you say, taking his hand in yours.

“It’s fine,” he insists.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you tell him and though he pauses for a moment, he agrees nonetheless. 

Helaena’s eyes are glassy, she’s standing with her gaze still fixed on the table.

“Oh my love,” Alicent says, moving toward her and embracing her.

Though not often fond of physical touch, Helaena leans into her mother’s embrace as tears begin to roll down her cheeks. Daeron reaches up from his seat, holding onto his sister’s hand. You lead Aemond up the stairs, meaning to search for one of the many bathrooms. He says nothing as you find one, sit him down and dig through the medicine cabinet. Aemond’s face is stoic as you clean the blood from his face, his hands. 

You gently wrap gauze around his knuckles, before pulling him to stand. You’re worried for a moment he’s in some state of shock, his movements incredibly robotic as you walk down the hall. He stops suddenly, looking out a window, watching disappearing tail lights fade down the driveway and off in the distance. 

“You know what my father said to me after the accident?” Aemond asked, facing the window.

You take a step closer to him, still giving him space. You’d never asked about it before, you’d barely heard the story at all. That’s what has him shaken up, not the fight. The talk about the accident. The talk about his eye. 

“No,” you tell him.

“He said,” Aemond trails off for a moment, “tell me the truth of it.”

You look to the ground, goosebumps forming on your skin, a heaviness in your gut you cannot possibly ignore. 

“Like it couldn’t possibly have happened the way I told him it did,” he continued, “like he didn’t believe a fucking word I said.”

You’re sick to your stomach, a tear rolls down your cheek. You hadn’t even noticed your eyes begin to well. 

“We’re a family, he said. We have to stick together.”

“Aemond-”

“He didn’t even come to the fucking hospital,” Aemond keeps going, “he just waited at home.”

The thought turns your stomach. 

“Of course when I want to stop playing, its a problem,” he goes on, “but when Rhaenyra left to go solo that’s fucking fine.”

The realization startles you.

“He made you keep playing.”

Aemond releases a bitter laugh, making the hair on the back of your neck stand on edge.

“Of course he fucking did,” Aemond tells you, shaking his head, “you think I wanted to keep playing with Luke after that?”

“Oh Aemond-”

“It was an accident,” Aemond says softly, “I know that now but…”

“You don’t have to-”

“No I want to tell you,” he continues, “my life fucking changed. Forever. And everyone just forgot about it.”

You’re standing right behind him now, and you place a hand on his back. His breathing is shallow, every breath seeming to catch in his throat. 

“Mom wanted to press charges,” he tells you, “not like Viserys was going to let that happen.”

“I’m so sorry Aemond,” you told him, “you deserved justice, and I’m so sorry you didn’t get any.”

You can feel his every inhale with your hand before you slide it onto his waist, hugging him from behind. You hold onto him, letting him feel you against him. Letting him know you’re here for him. He leans into your touch, before turning to face you, burying his face in your haird. You keep your arms around him, pressing into his chest as his arms tighten around you. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs into your hair. 

Soft footsteps can be heard from down the hall, though you and Aemond do not break from your embrace.

“Aemond?” Alicent says, her hands fidgeting as though she doesn’t know what to do with them.

You pull away from Aemond’s chest, though he keeps his arms around you. Alicent smiles gently at you.

“It’s late,” Alicent says, “why don’t you both stay in one of the guest rooms tonight?”

You look up at Aemond, to let him decide. He nods.

“Thanks Mom,” he says and Alicent smiles.

“Of course,” she tells you both, before turning to leave.

“Thank you again, for everything,” you tell her, meaning it sincerely. 

She brings a hand to your face, stroking your cheek. 

“Of course,” she tells you, and retreats down the hall. 

“Will she talk to your dad?” you ask Aemond.

“No,” he tells you, “besides, they don’t sleep in the same room.”

Aemond takes your hand, leading you to the guest room. You’d never stayed there before. Sure, you’d been to a handful of Targaryen parties over the past years but Aegon never made it overnight. He hated spending the night in the same house as his father. 

Aemond opens a door revealing a stylish room, with a king sized bed stuffed with pillows. It was basically a hotel, with robes hanging on the back of the door and chocolates on the pillows. From the walls hung different art pieces, mostly that of dragons. You’d remembered once when first meeting Viserys he had told you about the legends surrounding his family. You could apparently trace the Targaryen family name back to medieval times, where it was said they were dragonriders. 

Alicent went all out. You pluck a chocolate up, unwrap it and pop it into your mouth, letting the sweetness melt on your tongue.

“Nice,” you tell Aemond, who chuckles, laying on the bed.

He places a hand over his face, closing his eye. The drama of night has taken its toll. You sit on the bed, the mattress dipping as you do so. You lay down next to him, lacing your fingers together. 

“What’s your favorite color?” you ask him. 

“What?” he chuckles, removing his hand from his face.

“You heard me,” you say, leaning on your side using your elbow to prop yourself up. 

He watches you curiously, before speaking. 

“Blue,” he tells you, tapping at his sapphire.

“I should have guess-”

“Yeah you should have,” he says chuckling. 

You stifle a laugh, face hitting the pillow. Aemond watches you laugh, smiling at you. As you lift your face you meet his gaze, narrowing your eyes. 

“What?” you ask, though a smile comes through.

“Nothing,” he says, giving his head a slight shake.

You push yourself into a sitting position, the remainder of wine that tingles throughout your body giving you an extra boost of confidence. 

“What is it?” you demand playfully.

“No, it’s nothing,” he insists. 

You throw a leg over him, straddling his waist. He tilts his head back, lips parting as he watches you lace your fingers through his own. 

“Tell meeee,” you sing-song, leaning into him.

Aemond keeps your body upright, his arms flexing.

“You’re just cute, that’s all,” he tells you.

You wrinkle your nose.

“Aemond Targaryen thinks I’m cute,” you tell him, nodding your head with every word you speak, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

He chuckles underneath you and you raise your hips, adjusting your position. You feel a tingle of desire spark through you as you feel him growing harder underneath you. 

“Mhmm,” he answers, unlacing his fingers from yours, letting your hands drop onto his chest. 

He brings his hands to your hips, resting them there, rubbing smooth circles on the fabric of your dress. You tap your fingers against his chest, moving upwards, fiddling with the silver chain that lays against his throat. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” you tell him, causing a shy smile to appear on his face.

“Do you?”

“I do,” you tell him, fingers ghosting across the scar on his cheek. 

He turns his face toward your hand, kissing the pads of your fingers. Your lips part at the sweet action. Aemond is softer than you’d imagined, his sweetness steals the breath from your lungs. 

“I think you’re beautiful,” he tells you, stealing the breath from your lungs. 

Aemond’s fingers dig into where your thighs meet your hips, rocking you against him slightly. 

“And sexy,” he purrs, causing your face to flush. 

“Aemond,” you say, a nervous giggle leaving you, before he flips you over onto your back. 

He brings his lips to your neck, kissing the smooth flesh as you tangle your fingers in his hair. 

“I do,” he murmurs between kisses. 

You sigh, contentedly as he continues to adore you.

“I find you incredibly seductive,” he whispers against you, “it's unfair, really.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you giggle, tugging at the hair at the nape of his neck causing him to groan.

“Liar,” he says, bringing his mouth to kiss your lips, “you’re a temptress.”

You hum against his mouth, deepening the kiss as your tongue swipes his lower lip. His hand roams along the side of your body, bunching the fabric of your dress.

“Should we be doing this here?” you breathe as his hand strokes down your thigh and under your dress. 

Aemond’s long fingers grip at the meat of your thigh as you turn your head to look at the door. His other hand grabs at your jaw, forcing your lips back toward him. 

“What if your mom hears?” you whimper, as he kisses you harder. 

Alicent’s room is not far, just down the hall. The enormous house is eerily quiet at night from the lack of residents. You’ve no idea where Daeron’s room is, but it cannot be far from the guest room either. 

“You’ll just have to be quiet then,” he tells you, though it's said as a challenge. 

Aemond moves off of you, dragging you towards the edge of the bed, a small yelp leaving your lips before you slap your hand over your mouth. Aemond kneels on the floor next to the bed, fingers wrapped around your calves. He quirked an eyebrow at the noise you made. 

“I haven’t done anything yet,” he teases, reaching for your underwear, moving it down your legs.

“I’m sorry,” you say through a giggle. 

“I told you to be quiet,” he says, eye darkening, “are you a good listener, Y/N?”

You nod, skin flushed with anticipation. He places a kiss to your thigh as he bunches your dress up toward your waist. 

“Fuck,” he groans, staring at your pussy, “so wet for me already.”

You feel his mouth against your slick lower lips and bite your tongue to suppress a moan as he opens his mouth against you, pressing in. You can feel your thighs clenching, trembling at the feeling of his jaw opening and closing, mouth pulling you apart, tongue swirling against your sensitive clit. He’s truly eating you, he must be devouring you and all you can manage to think is how you need to remember every detail to tell Baela. 

“I think I remember you liking this,” Aemond says, before wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking.

You choke back a moan, desperately trying to keep quiet. 

“No?” Aemond says releasing your bud, “hmm maybe I was wrong.”

“What-,” you whimper in disappointment at the loss of contact.

“What?” he asks, pressing a soft kiss upon your inner thigh, “you don’t like my teasing?”

You whimper, head thrashing side to side, causing him to darkly chuckle.

“Then why do you make such pretty sounds when I do?”

You open your mouth to answer before feeling his fingers stretch through your entrance, and your head falls back onto the pillow with a pitiful noise leaving your bruised lips. 

“I know you like this,” he purrs, curling his fingers, “where’s that spot, princess, here?”

He’s fucking with you, you know it. Crooking his fingers, lips barely brushing your clit, as tears begin to prickle at the corner of your eyes. He loves doing this, bringing you ever so close to the edge of pleasure. 

“Here?” he asks again, “hmm I’m not sure I remember.”

“Aemond,” you whimper his name. Fuck he loves torturing you.

His teeth graze your clit, as his fingers locate the rough patch within your warm walls. Your spine bows, arching off of the bed.

“Oh here?” he asks, feigning innocence, “is this it pretty girl?”

“You know it is,” you nearly sob, “Fu-fuck!”

Aemond hums, curling his fingers and circling your clit with smooth, hot strokes of his tongue. You throw your hand over your mouth as you moan, trying as best as you can to stop the sound from echoing throughout the room. 

“Getting a little loud, princess,” Aemond chastises, never stopping the come hither movement of his fingers, “someone might hear you.”

You bite down on your wrist, hard enough to draw blood. You can feel your orgasm creeping up on you, building steadily causing your legs to shake. 

“Come on love, come for me,” he demands, burying his face back in your pussy, tongue fluttering around your sensitive clit.

“Fuck!” you yell as do exactly what Aemond tells you, clenching around his fingers.

He releases his fingers from your sopping heat, pulling you up to kiss him. You can feel his fingers unzipping your dress and you hastily shimmy out of it. You’re not wearing a bra, the dress didn’t allow it, so you’re naked before him, clawing at the clothes he wears desperate to feel his skin against your own. 

You hear a button ping to the floor as you tear open his shirt, earning a breathless chuckle from him. Aemond cups your face as you pull down his pants, freeing his erection. You pull away from his mouth. 

“Lie on the bed,” you tell him.

He looks at you, clearly surprised at the shift in the power dynamic. He’s still in control ultimately, and you know that. Aemond surprises you, laying back on the bed, erection slapping against his stomach. You crawl on top of him as you did earlier, positioning his cock at your weeping entrance. You hesitate for only a moment, tilting your head.

Aemond’s violet eye is blown with lust, his lips parted in anticipation. 

“Do you want me?” you ask, barely letting the tip of his member inside you. 

“Yes,” he breathes, hands moving to your sides. 

He doesn’t press your hips down, he leaves the control to you.

“How much?” you ask, sliding his head between your slick folds.

You watch a vein in his neck pulse, his jaw clench.  

“Desperately,” he breathes, and you bite your lip. 

You slide his tip through the lips of your pussy again letting it nudge your swollen clit sending a jolt of pleasure dancing up past your naval.

“Really?” you ask him.

“Yes,” he murmurs and you sink onto him, engulfing him in your tight, wet, heat. 

Aemond’s moan matches yours as you let yourself settle with the stretch he gives you. You feel so deliciously full as you lift your hips, before sinking down once more. Aemond’s hands remain on your waist as you slowly roll your hips, riding him at a lazy pace. Your hands remain on his chest, nails gently digging into his pectoral muscles. 

Aemond abandons his grip on your hips, pushing himself into a seated position, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and bringing you with him, one arm securely around your waist. You wrap your arms around his neck, your forearms helping you keep your pace, bouncing continuously on his thick cock. He buries his face in your chest, mouth latching onto your nipple, a broken moan escaping you.

You feel his tongue swirling around the hardened peak, before you feel his teeth nipping at the skin of your breast, marking a path up to your neck. Your thighs burn and your pace slows as you try to push past the sweet ache in your legs and chase your release. Your whole body is flushed as Aemond brings his hands to your hips, helping slam you on his cock. Your head lolls onto his shoulder as he raises his hips, meeting your movements.

“My gorgeous girl, look at you,” he croons, “riding me so fucking well.”

He winds a hand behind your neck, supporting your head to look at him. Your head is so fuzzy with pleasure all you can do is whimper at the filthy words he speaks, cheeks burning a dark shade of maroon. Aemond gives you a lustful smile, ever so pleased with the effect he has on you, and the fact that he is the only one who can make you feel this way. 

“Does that feel good?” Aemond asks, holding you tightly against him. 

You nod desperately, the feeling of him sliding in and out of you so effortlessly almost too much to bear. 

Your nails scratch down his chest, leaving scarlet streaks on his pale skin. Aemond releases a breathy groan, looking down at the marks before looking back up at you, lavender eye hooded with desire. 

Aemond wraps his arms around you, twisting you onto your back. He slows his thrusts, brushing some hair from your face. Your breathing is ragged, and you’re pressed so close to him that you feel the steady rhythm of his heart matching your own. 

“Look at me,” he says softly, and you meet his eyes.

His lashes flutter and you can feel your cheeks warming with the intensity between you. The butterflies that curl in your stomach as he presses into you. 

You want to run. You can feel the tears prickling at your eyes and hate that you’re going to cry. You can’t help it, can’t stop the warm river that escapes your left eye, falling to the pillow below. You inhale a shaky breath, feel Aemond wipe the tear from the corner of your eye. 

“Hey,” Aemond says softly, tearing you from your thoughts.

“I’m so scared,” you whisper. 

You’re so fucking scared. 

“Why are you scared, baby?” he asks quietly.

His hips have stopped moving, but he still rests inside of you keeping you comfortably full and connected. 

“I really like you,” you tell him, “I really like you, Aemond.”

Aemond smiles, like he’s been waiting forever to hear you say that.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N,” Aemond tells you.

“How can you know that?” you ask, still teary eyed. 

“I just do,” he promises, “I just…” he trails off, not finishing his sentence.

You lift your head connecting your mouths in a passionate kiss. You let yourself believe him, getting lost in the pleasure he gives you, and the promise he gives you. His hips ground against you, gently thrusting himself in and out. 

“I don’t want to lose you,” you whine against his lips.

“You have me,” he answers between kisses, “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your nails are clawing at his back, desperately trying to get him closer. You wish in that moment you could curl up inside of him, keep yourself attached to him. You can feel your pleasure peaking, the wave within you beginning to crest. Aemond takes you over the edge with a final drive of his hips and you’re whimpering into his mouth, screwing your eyes shut in ecstasy. 

He peppers your face with kisses, as his hips stutter with his own release. Each kiss burns away the tears that stain your cheeks, as he gently holds your face in his hands. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aemond tells you again, “not without you.”

note: I am soft for them 🥺

DIF TAGLIST: @padfooteyes, @herfantasyworldd, @kyuupidwrites, @lost-and-founds, @doublesparrows, @virginslut08, @f4ll-for-you, @violet2507, @itsabby15, @raphaellathedragon, @tswiftsthings, @cruelmissdior, @tempt-ress, @lexyr23, @reneki, @fictionalcomforts, @serrhaewin, @yariany02, @lily174, @schniiipsel, @nina2697, @minttea07, @queenofshinigamis, @duesobabe, @maximizedrhythms, @arryn-nyx, @arcadianmoonlight @kittykylax, @hiatuswhore, @issshhh, @echos-muses, @wrendermeuseless, @youcantbesirius, @partypoison00 @chainsawsangel @bellameshipper @wondergal2001, @arcielee @rwdkarla @sweetsweetpsyche @valeric-writes @sahvlren @ohdemimonde @geminidas @darkenchantress @sophielangdonx, @khaothick, @flavorofsalt, @spinachtz, @alitaar, @crazylokonugget @eddiemadmunson

[venmondiese]

THE WARM OF BOTH BODIES

masterlist ✧works in procress ✧ AO3

✧Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

✧Rating: +18 mdni explicit

✧word count: 3.1k

✧gif credit: aegon ✧ aemond

-ˋˏsummary: Dragons are greedy, and both of your brothers have perverted desires that you take no issue on entertaining. ✧Warnings: : MDNI 18+, mummy kink, lactation kink, breastfeeding, threesome (f/m/m), aegond, targcest, polyamory, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation (f and m receiving), aegon is the most submissive to exist, switch!aemond. ✧ this is a part from @targaryen-dynasty 's 3k celebration ! check all the other works too, and as always a pleasure to participate with my silly things and congrats to her ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡ ✧ note: i added my own spice. it didn't say anything about aegond but i am... weak... #i tried

By no means had you known what being alone was like.

After Aemond, you were the fifth child of king Viserys to survive childhood. Daeron was your youngest by two years, and like your sister, you were dotted and cared for by your mother and father… unlike your brothers. 

Your mother had a weird way to demonstrate affection to them, you always thought. With Aegon was non-existent, and Aemond had this burden to be the reliable sibling amongst them all. 

When Aegon had to marry Helaena; you married Aemond. It was how the tradition dictates, and it was under your father’s wish, much to your mother’s dislike.

And just like Helaena, you recently had a daughter with Aemond, Rhaelle, who was the apple of his father’s eye. Yet, the only difference between your duty and Helaena’s is that she wasn’t the one who had to take care of Aegon. Instead, you took care of Aegon’s whims, alongside your husband’s.  

Aegon was greedy, whiny and clingy. He searched you whenever he wanted, following you around like a puppy for your attention. Whereas Aemond was quiet, reserved and embarrassed, but not less greedy. He often wanted comfort, praise for his action and the reassurance that he was doing no wrong in his desires. 

Both of them accepted the other, in a quiet agreement. You were a petulant person, and if you wanted, they knew this, all of it, would be over. So they shut up their differences for the sake of it.

Aegon was curled by your right side, lying on the bed of your chambers. Post coital bliss at its finest, as he was slightly sleepy, and even a bit grumpy when bothered. It had been some cold days, but the fire made it more bearable, and it gave some sense of cosiness to both. He was just resting, a bit sleepy, his head on your stomach as you read some silly book about Valyrian fashion, as his legs were pressed against your shoulder, as you slowly caressed his leg, soothing him like that.

You hear his soft yawn, as the laziness of the evening consumes you both as you are cuddled against the other for the warm. As Aegon draws slowly patterns upon the lower part of your chest, you feel the door of the chambers opening knowing it was your husband 

You lower your book, caressing Aegon’s heel and calf, as you look at Aemond, walking closer to the bed as he makes a slight face at seeing Aegon here, as if he wanted you all for himself. He takes his boots quickly, moving to take off his leather jerkin.

“Hi” You say, softly, and he hums. You can see it in the slight frown on his face. 

Aegon stirs a hit, not greeting Aemond as he sits on the bed, closer to you. Like a lazy cat, he yawns, and you feel his muscles stretching a bit. 

“Did you tuck Rhaelle?” Aemond asks, his shoulders tensed up as he takes off his eye patch and loses up his hair. He was tired, you could see.

“Yes, she is sleeping in the nursery…” You say softly, looking at him. “What is it?” You ask, seeing how Aemond wants something, yet he doesn’t know how to say it, looking at you a bit unsure. 

“Mummy” He whines softly, frowning as his tone was a bit sheepishly, sitting closer to you, by your left side. 

You press your lips together, looking at him as he seems so vulnerable, and tired, for whatever reason he probably will tell you later. Aegon nuzzles your stomach, his interest piqued on Aemond’s word, because if it involves Aemond, it will involve him as well. 

The unspoken words between you and Aemond are no obstacle to knowing what he wants. You know your brothers, surely, but Aemond was different. Aemond was your husband, and you knew him like the palm of your hand. 

Aemond nods shyly, as if agreeing with the thought on your mind, and he scoots closer once you sit better on the bed, leaning back properly on the pillows. Your nightgown is easy to untie at the front, more so when you are lactating and need an easy way to open the dress. Rhaelle would fuss and wail her little lungs out, so your clothes were always easy to undo. 

Now, if Rhaelle’s father and uncle enjoy the same, is another thing. 

You undo the laces in the front of your dress, and you know how Aegon reincorporates to sit, suddenly all woken up and interested in this. The dress is pure cotton, and it is comfortable to wear. You pull the fabric out of the way, and with their gazes following your each movement, you know it is a matter of time for them to hungrily latch onto you.

Aegon curls up to your right side, whereas Aemond does the same on your left. He always preferred your left, since the blind spot faces Aegon, so he doesn’t have to bear seeing him too. Aegon is much more shameless, clinging to you and moving his hips softly against your right side.

You feel both men getting closer, and their breaths hit your nipples as they nuzzle your blossom, in hopes of sucking hungrily.

 “Aegon…” you say softly as he was growing impatient, moving a bit as he pressed his face closer to your breast, restless and eager.

Aemond is never restless; he stayed still as he loved, caring. He always pressed faint kisses, around your tits, before suckling calmly. His left arm always found its way to wrap your waist, keeping you close to him as he delighted himself with soothing milk.

Instead, Aegon immediately latched onto your breast, suckling and trying to get all the milk he could, eagerly as he always seemed relentless, always craving more and more. He’d watch you with bright, purple eyes as he craved for your attention.

You comb their hair with your fingers, kiss the top of their heads and rub their back. They were your older brothers, but behaved like hungry little kittens that needed their milk.

Always was a bit strange, as they weren’t always amicable. It took a long time, for Aemond, at least, to join in. It was mainly due to the fact that Aegon rarely left you alone, even if you were Aemond’s wife. Little by little, they learned how to warm up to each other, and sometimes to your request, they’ll kiss.

The suckling sounds are loud, almost obscene, as you feel both swallow each drop from your leaking milk. Aemond had probably been tasting it since the end of your pregnancy, yet it didn’t tire him at all. And Aegon? He was always hungry, and he suckled and his tongue lapped your breast, milking more and more. 

You can feel how they swallow the milk, both eager. Aemond has a hand around your waist, as Aegon has his hand around your breast and squeezes it slightly as if to have more.

“Mummy” Aegon murmurs, pulling back as he looks at you, and he has wide purple eyes “are we being good?”

The reassurance is a must, you realise with time. “Yes, baby. You both are my good boys” you murmur, caressing the top of their head “Both of you, my best boys…”

They delight themselves in the praise; you hear Aemond’s faint moans, as you feel his body at ease. You caress the back of his head, feeling the loose hairs on your fingers. 

It always made you feel the arousal settle in the lower part of your belly, and feeling so turned on you had to press your thighs together a bit. Aemond loved when your breast grew larger, and full of milk. Aegon was not behind that feeling, as he was the one to propose the idea to ‘help you with the heaviness of them’.

Aegon gulps on the milk like a glutton, and his eyes are closed in the delight of nursing. You feel his cock hardening little by little by your side. Aemond instead, looks at you. His eye is deep and intense, watching your face as his mouth is still working on your nipple, his tongue pressing against the nub getting more milk. His hand on your waist loosens up slightly, slowly moving down all the way to your stomach, and little by little, makes its way to your centre. 

Aegon is oblivious to that, as he suckles and slurps loudly, with not a care for the world, nipping and licking all of the sweet milk that your breast can produce. He whines a bit, scooping closer and closer as he tries to get more and more. 

“Doing such a good job for mummy, darlings…” You say to both, as you feel Aemond’s hand almost innocently brushing against your womanhood. “So good…” You murmur dreamily, sighing as Aegon nuzzles his face closer to your right breast, his nose brushing the skin as his mouth slightly presses a bit harder, eager for more.

They could feel you moving under their touch, almost possessive as they fed from you, keeping you right there at their mercy. The sound of your praise stirred something in both of them, yearning more of your affections, more of mummy’s affections. 

Aemond is the first one to pull away from your breast, beginning to shift as his body moves higher, his mouth kissing all the way up to kiss you in the lips. You hum, feeling the taste of your own milk on his lips. 

“Mummy” Aegon protests, not wanting to be left out as always, as he pulls away from your breast, an obscene sound from it as he moves his head to nuzzle your cheek, kissing lazily to keep on worshipping your body. 

Aware of how his hand was still between your legs, Aemond pressed it harder against your core, rubbing more firmly. As if wanting to draw more sounds from you, Aegon moves his hand to grope softly, carefully your breast, not wanting to leave a part from you unattended. 

“You are such good boys for me, always wanting to please me, hm?” You say, panting a bit from how good your husband's hands on your pussy feels.

“Yes mummy” Aemond murmurs, and Aegon nods in agreement. 

It’s as if Aemond knows your thoughts, because he turns to watch Aegon, moving slightly his other hand to place it on the back of his neck, pulling Aegon closer to share a slow, yet passionate kiss between both of them.

They could feel the milky taste in the other’s mouth, and you could see how their tongues crashed against each other, making it as sloppy as possible as they made out for quite some time, as Aemond’s fingers tried to pry into your clit and pussy. 

You know that at the beginning it was more to put on a show for you, for your delight that they agreed to do as well. If they enjoyed it, you could never know. But now it’s different, watching how they hungrily seek each other’s mouth, and if one tries to pull away, the other is quick to lean, following their mouth to keep on kissing. 

It’s hot, to say the least, and it makes wonders for your arousal to see both of them kiss like this. You think, for a moment, if you could maybe propose the idea for them to follow this lust for each other further. Maybe for another occasion. 

As Aemond’s lips move to kiss Aegon’s neck, you see how your baby seems so aroused, you could always see it clearly with Aegon, how his cheeks turned pinker and he had that blissful expression. You feel Aemond’s hand moving away from your core, and before you could ask anything, they both pulled away from each other. 

Aemond probably murmured something in Aegon's ear, because they shared a look before the eldest slowly turned to you. 

 “Mummy, can we please you…? We wanna taste your pussy… please…” he asked, and you see how Aemond looks at you, awaiting your answer, as his hand caresses your thigh softly.

You caress Aegon’s thigh softly, as they both almost look at you with puppy eyes. 

“Yes, my darlings. Please mummy with your mouths” 

It does not take them long to accommodate between your legs, Aemond presses one hand to your left leg, keeping it still. Aegon does not bother to do the same for your left thigh, as he has other priorities. 

You feel Aegon’s mouth first, his tongue tracing along her slit. Aemond moves his hand to the back of Aegon’s head, pushing his mouth further into your cunt, as the eldest savours your wetness. And at the sound of your moans, he doubles his efforts.

Then it’s Aegon who pulls your husband’s face down to join his mouth, both of them licking and sucking your wet cunt. You can see both of them, their cheeks pressed together as they pleasure you with their mouths at the same time, licking and slurping in unison.

“Fuck, f-fuck, gods…” you moan, your hips moving closer, grinding against his tongues, grabbing Aegon’s hair, short and easy to grab (unlike Aemond’s)

Aegon seems delighted at that, and you feel his tongue darting out to suck your clit eagerly, and you feel your jaw moving at the motion, and he whimpers with need. Aemond is, as always, focused as he slurps and sucks on her entrance, obscene sounds fill the room as his expert mouth works on you. 

They both clearly relish both the taste and the privilege of having their faces buried between your thighs, moving to please you, and their tongues crashing together as they do so. 

“Mummy, you taste so good” you don’t even recognise the sound, the sound muffled by the little space between his mouth and your folds. 

“Fuck, so good…” the other agrees, and your legs tremble, as your hips try to get more and more of their wicked tongues.

Aegon is the one whining, you know that. As you pull his hair, you see his needy eyes looking at you. You press your heel on his back, as if pushing him closer to your cunt. He moans, closing his eyes as he goes back to feasting on your pussy.

Aemond moved to your clit now, and you can see how the sapphire glints on the dim lights. You imagine that both of their cocks are rock hard, throbbing impatiently. 

Maybe it’s Aegon or Aemond (maybe both) the one who drools, while the muffled moans still come and go. You, on your side, are a mess, as you try to keep both of them close to you, feeling Aemond’s hand caressing your breast. Your pussy can’t take longer, and your hips grind against both of their faces, as you roll your eyes back and lean your head back in the pillows, as you feel your orgasm so close.

 “Fuck, babies, so good for mummy, fuck…” you mean it, moaning loudly as you feel them whimper.

“Wanna make you cum so hard, mummy…” Aegon’s raspy voice is a bit clearer, as you clench on his hair.

“Hmmmm” Aemond hums, not separating one bit from your cunt.

As you start cumming, both of them press their mouth against your pussy, wanting to taste your cum as they try to be the one to get more. You are cumming hard, and their greedy tongues only fuel your orgasm even more. 

Feeling your pussy quivering and pulsing around their tongues it's probably one of their favourite things, along with the rest of you. The feeling of your creamy juices made them greedy, and they share it all

Their faces are shiny with your arousal, and even when you retreat, they lick their lips as if wanting more. You can’t exactly see in the faces of your brother’s what they are thinking, but you feel tired to think about anything but the great orgasm you just had. 

You are not exactly sure who started the kiss, but it's messy and sloppy, as you see their tongues sharing the last tastes of your cum, as their hands clenched to the other to keep him close, and keep on the passionate kiss.

It’s Aemond who groans, Aegon pressing his body to his, almost humping his cock to any part of your husband’s skin, who holds him close, one hand on his jaw and the other moving down to the eldest hips.

You move a bit, sitting better on the bed, yet your back still leans on the pillows, body relaxed as you accommodate to watch them devour each other as one does sit to watch men fighting in a tourney. But both of them were involved in different practices, which was a show for you to see and most importantly- enjoy. 

You can see their tongues pressing together, their heads moving to not break the sloppy kiss, messy and passionate. They surely are doing this out of passion and lust, rather than rational thought, but you are not complaining.

Aegon’s hand comes to caress the firm abdomen of Aemond, like you enjoy doing. Your husband is a creature of many sides, and he can be as submissive as he can be dominant. He moves the hand on Aegon’s hip to grip his short hair, and keeps him in place to keep on kissing him. 

“Aem… mummy” Aegon’s little whines come in a low tone, and a bit slurred, as Aemond does not give his mouth a break. 

It takes you a while to notice that Aegon is using his hand to stroke Aemond’s cock, using the side of his thigh to hump and grind his own cock. He was needy, but he was too much of a needy baby to fight for dominance. Aegon relished on being submissive, either with you, or Aemond. 

Aemond breaks their kiss, his head falling back to pant, groaning slightly as Aegon uses his hand on his cock. You know Aegon is the most lustful creature since he discovered pleasure, and he was always good with his hands. 

“Mummy…” Aegon whines, wanting you to help him with his cock, and you move on your knees closer to where they were having this exchange of pleasure, because both of them wanted to cum very badly. 

Your hands on Aegon’s cock make him go weak, whimpering as he leans closer to Aemond, moving his lips down on his body, his abdomen and the tip of his cock.

“Good boys, hm? You both are such good boys for mummy, pleasuring yourselves…” You say, that sweet tone of yours makes Aemond’s arousal explode. 

“Fuck-” Aemond mutters, groaning and whimpering as he cums one of his hands moving to grip your shoulder, and as your hands stroke the eldest’s cock, your hand over stimulating movements on his cockhead, as if trying to replicate his tongue movements on Aemond’s tip. 

Aegon is greedy, and he whimpers, still pleasuring Aemond, his hips bucking on your hand, as his own orgasm hits hard. Aemond is the one holding him, as your baby’s orgasm hits him hard, trying not to fall on the bed, panting loudly and whimpering. 

He makes a little sound when you kiss him, wanting to taste Aemond’s cum on his tongue. It was delightful, and you feel his body melting on your touch. You feel how your other brother moves to caress the back of your head, nuzzling your shoulder and kissing it tenderly.

You could get used to this new dynamic, surely.

[magicbystarlight]

Favorite Dress

Aemond Targaryen x Wife! Reader

Warnings: 18+, nipple play, mentions of public sex/nudity, body changes from pregnancy, simp Aemond. Minors DNI.

“You do not look bad,” your husband said as you raised a skeptical brow at her in the mirror. It had been nearly three years since you’d last worn the dress. Your body had changed much since then, thanks mostly to the two children you’d carried in those years. While it still fit with a few adjustments along the waist, there was not much material that could be added to the bust.

“I look as if I’ve taken a position in a pleasure house.”

He did not disagree. “You would be paid very handsomely.”

You huffed and turned back to him. “I cannot go out like this. I know it was your favorite, but it is simply too small now.”

He hummed. A finger caressed the excessive cleavage. “I think it is lovelier than before. I shall be the envy of all when they see what beauty our children have given you.”

“Aemond, I am serious! They threaten to liberate themselves at the slightest movement. All shall know what color dots their center if I dance at all.”

His lips curled into a smirk. In but a breath’s time, he’d lifted your breasts. The sudden coolness peaked your nipples. Your husband leaned forward and one in his mouth. His tongue rolled the sensitive skin before he sucked the pebbled skin. Fingers pinched and pulled at the other.

“I shall have a new dress made,” he conceded with a soft bite. “But for this evening, dear wife, this is what you will wear. And if these,” his thumbs ran over your nipples, “should become free while you frolic about, I cannot be held accountable if the whole party bears witness to us making another child.”

Other New Fics:

A Lady and Her Knight (Gwayne Hightower x Reader)

Lioness (Kraven the Hunter x Reader)

[talesofesther]

I'll crawl home to her

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: Tales of Aemond's love for you.

A/N: In Ewan's words; the only thing that can beat Aemond is love. If you like this story, you'll like my ongoing series too. ;)

Masterlist

Aemond loves you behind closed doors.

He loves you with the way his pinky hooks around yours under the tables, during supper and council meetings.

He loves you with subtle looks and barely there smiles across rooms filled with people where he can only see you.

He loves you when he comes back tasting of heartache and guilt, with raindrops or tears staining his cold skin and clothes clinging to his body. When he stumbles into your room whispering sins against your embrace only for you to kiss the words, kiss his cheeks, kiss his scar, kiss the tears away. He clings to your body, your nightgown nearly ripping with his desperation.

But it's alright, because there's only you and him and the soft light of the candles in your room. It's alright because you cradle his head, fingertips burying between wet silver locks. It's alright because you whisper forgiveness into his ears, even if he feels undeserving.

And maybe war is now inevitable, but for a fraction of a moment, Aemond feels entirely at peace.

He loves you when you watch him from afar and notice the stiffness of his shoulders, the tapping of his fingers on the table. And then you'll find an excuse to call his name and get him away from the crowds, asking for some help with something mundane. You lace your fingers together, loose and yet so present. You take a familiar route through a lone hallway, you open the doors to the library hidden away in the confines of the Keep, pull him in, and close it again.

Aemond falls to you, his forehead is leaning against yours, his eye is closed, and he can breathe. You feel like fresh air. He nuzzles his nose to yours before asking for a kiss, it's all timid and bashful, he's not sure how to love yet, all he knows is that he feels it, insistent and warm; all-consuming.

But you hold his cheeks, you guide him, you teach him. Your fingers are in his hair and your soft lips touch the corner of his mouth; all delicate and devoted, Aemond doesn't know what to do with this much love, he might crumble.

His hands are around you, all over, and he's almost afraid to hurt you; even if you promise time and time again that he could never. Aemond sighs against your lips, and it sounds a lot like; "I am yours."

He loves you because there is no need for words with you. When he holds himself back from going to you all day—between planning for a war he's fighting alone and hearing his own mother talk of him as if he were a monster—the arrival of the night feels like a reprieve. It's the moment he waits for the most, for he can lay down his armor.

Aemond walks by the garden, picking up a single blue flower. He hides it away as he walks to your chambers, no one needs to know—even if everyone already knows anyway. He gives you the blue flower, with pink on his cheeks; he feels like a young boy in love—perhaps he is.

You kiss him, sweet and soft and tasting like the blueberries you stole from the kitchen earlier. And Aemond could cry, because if he has you, he's not alone.

You're the one who takes off his eyepatch, and then his coat, and his pants, and pulls loose his hair—you brush your lips over his shoulders when you do it, and he knows no one could love him the way you do. There's nothing sexual about it even if you're the muse of all his desires. He simply lays with you in bed, his head on your chest, and you trace the outlines of his body as you speak about your day. There are goosebumps on his skin, and he loves to hear you speak, about anything and everything, it soothes his troubled soul.

It's quiet, and Aemond falls asleep with the feeling of you braiding his hair. It'll be a little curly in parts when morning comes. He never minds it.

And he loves you with the way he won't be able to speak the three words. But he'll trace and kiss them on your skin every single night. And you understand, because you always say them back.

He loves you because of the way you sometimes hold the tip of his fingers with yours behind your backs.

He loves you with the way he'll threaten death to anyone who looks at you wrong.

He loves you with the way he could burn the whole world and yet not let a single flame touch your skin.

He loves you because you'll kiss his lips even if he tastes of blood and war.

He loves you because you'll hold his pieces together when everyone else is trying to tear him apart.

He loves you because even in the darkest of days, you're always there in the end.

He loves you because even if you exchange nothing but glances when amidst other people, you'll embrace his very soul in private.

He loves you because you wait with bathed breath when he takes Vhagar to the skies, and never think twice about mounting on a horse to gallop towards the woods outside of King's Landing when you spot the dragon's large silhouette bringing him back.

You jump from the white horse, Aemond jumps from Vhagar, and you meet each other in the middle. He holds you close in a needy embrace, as if each minute could be the last. And when you pull back, you don't ask questions or make demands, you simply run your thumbs over his cheekbones and breathe easiness into his skin. The feeling of you is always like coming home.

Amidst a world of war, you're a safe haven.

He loves you because you are the one who taught him what love feels like.

Aemond loves you behind closed doors. Wholly, truly, passionately. And with all of him that no one else is allowed to see.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Aemond's taglist is open, let me know if you'd like to be added. Or you can follow @talesofesther-library and turn notifications on to know when I’ve posted a new story/chapter.

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3

You do not have permission to repost, copy, or translate my works on any platforms (even with credit), please respect.

[1800-fight-me]

Devout Worshiper

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Rating: E (EXPLICIT - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Explicit sex! This is literally pure smut.

Word count: About 3.3k

Synopsis: The Prince Regent expresses his carnal desire and devotion to you atop the Iron Throne.

Author’s note: We were robbed! I can't believe they never showed us Aemond sitting on the Iron Throne or wearing a crown! So anyway I tried to fix it with this fic- please accept my humble offering.

I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on! Here's the link to my Aemond Masterlist if you want to check out my other stories! Also my requests are open, please send me some more!!

It was long after the moon rose and the knocking on your chamber door was loud and insistent. It made you nervous, and as you opened the door your confusion only grew. 

A kingsguard stood in your doorway. 

“My lady, the Prince Regent requests your presence in the throne room.” He said sternly, making it clear it was more of a demand than a request. 

Prince Regent? 

Trepidation filled you, but you only nodded demurely and followed his lead. 

You flinched as thunder cracked loud enough to hurt your ears. Flashes of lightning lit your way through the halls of the Red Keep as rain poured. 

The kingsguard opened the door to the throne room and gestured for you to enter. He did not follow you, only closed the door behind you, sealing you in. 

Lightning flashed again and you saw the Prince Regent where he lounged on the iron throne. His long silver hair practically shimmered in the low light, his legs were spread, and his gaze was heart stoppingly intimidating. 

Your heart skipped a beat, but for a completely different reason. 

“Aemond,” you breathed out, walking forward again so eagerly you nearly tripped over your own feet. 

You heard that he and Vhagar had returned to King’s Landing after the battle, but hadn't seen him yet. He looked good, completely himself, not a scratch on him and not a hair out of place. You were so relieved. 

He murmured your name too, strong unidentified 

emotion behind the syllables. 

As you beheld your childhood best friend, he looked the same, but something about him was completely changed. Perhaps it had something to do with the conqueror’s crown that rested upon his brow. 

You stopped walking as you reached the bottom of the stairs of the throne. 

“What-“

”Aegon was grievously harmed in the battle, I have been named Prince Regent while he heals,” he explained. 

You nodded, you had heard the King was hurt. 

“And you, are you alright?” 

He smiled crookedly and nodded. 

You stared up at him, for the first time in your life uncertain about what to say to your childhood companion. The circumstances of this conversation were far different than any other time you spoke to him. 

He beckoned you forward, and feeling jittery you 

tentatively made your way up the steps of the iron throne. 

As you reached him, relief overcame you and you laid your hand on his cheek. 

“I’m so glad you’ve returned unharmed. I was so worried for you. I don’t know what I would do if-“ 

He shushed you gently as he placed a large hand on your waist and pulled you closer to him, leading you to stand between his spread legs. 

You knew that none of this was proper. 

“I am here,” he murmured and nuzzled his face into your hand. 

Your heart thumped harder as you tried to pull your hand away, but he intertwined his fingers with yours and prevented you, instead running his nose gently across your skin, invoking goosebumps. 

He took a deep breath as his nose reached your wrist and let out a soft groan. 

Your knees threatened to buckle. 

You should pull away. Walk away. This was wrong, wrong, wrong. You were betrothed to another man. He was betrothed to a woman who was not you. 

“I thought of nothing but your scent throughout the battle, of returning home to you and smelling you once more,” he said, his voice low and deep, before he pressed his lips to your wrist. 

“Aemond,” you protested weakly. 

“Claiming you as mine,” he continued, trailing his lips further up your arm, pushing away the fabric in search of your skin. 

“It is a sin,” you protested. 

About a year ago Queen Alicent caught you and Aemond in a passionate kiss, it was not the first kiss between the two of you, and reprimanded you both sharply. Reminded you both that your maidenhood must remain intact and that developing feelings for one another was folly as it was highly likely you would both be betrothed to others. 

Her words were sharp and you took them to heart. You did your best to squash your feelings for Aemond and treat him only as a friend. 

But feelings that strong don’t merely disappear… and it seemed Aemond’s desire for you remained as fiery as ever. 

“Nothing between you and I could ever be a sin. We were made for each other,” he said urgently, his lips now reaching the skin revealed by your collar as he pulled you even closer. 

Your breath hitched in your throat. 

“We are betrothed to marry others,” you said even as you whined at the feel of his lips against your throat. 

“Fuck that,” he said as he bit down on the most sensitive part of your neck. 

Your grip on his shoulder tightened even as you plunged your other hand in his hair at the back of his head and held him closer, tighter, never wanting to be apart from him again. 

He chuckled darkly and licked up your throat to your jaw. 

“Aemond,” you panted and he pulled back enough to look you in the eye, one hand slipping to caress the side of your face. 

“You are mine,” he growled. 

You whimpered. 

“Say it,” he ordered. 

“I’m yours,” you breathed out. 

You stared into his violet gaze, overwhelmed by the emotion you beheld. 

“And I am yours,” he said. 

“And you are mine,” you repeated. 

You weren’t sure who moved first, but his lips crashed into yours, and it was like coming up for air. You couldn’t breathe without him, hadn’t been able to breathe properly in a year, and now in his arms with his lips covering yours, your breaths came properly.

He pulled back all too soon, and said, “We will say our vows again on the morrow in the sept. I am Prince Regent now, I sit upon the Iron Throne, no one can deny us. You will be mine for the rest of our lives.” 

The crack in your heart that has festered over the last year healed over instantly and you scrambled upon his lap as you kissed him once more. 

As your tongue tangled with his and you both gripped one another tighter, as he held you closer than you’d ever been held. 

‘Finally, finally, finally’ your heart and soul sang. He let out a cocky chuckle and you realized you’d said the words out loud. 

He pulled your legs apart, spreading them as you settled more comfortably on his lap, your dress no longer a barrier between the two of you as his tongue flicked against yours. 

Heat ran up your spine as the taste of him filled your mouth, as your blood pounded through your veins, as he somehow managed to pull you even closer- practically crushing you against him. 

His hand ran up from your waist, his palm enveloping and gently squeezing your breast, and an erotic moan escaped from your lips, spilling into his mouth. 

He pulled your mouth closer, tangling his tongue with yours as he moaned back. His fingers began to tug at the laces of your bodice, and you pulled back with a small gasp. 

“Aemond,” you whispered in concern, looking back to make sure you were well and truly alone. 

“I ordered them to leave us be and guard the doors. No one will interrupt us,” he reassured as he tugged again at the tie covering your heaving bosom. 

Your breasts spilled from your dress as you stared into his eye. You reached around his head and unbuckled the eyepatch, letting it fall to the side, rendering him bare too as the sapphire eye glittered- a reflection of the flashing lightning. 

His gaze dropped to your chest, and with hands on your waist he led you to move your hips, grinding down on his hardened length.  

Your whimper turned into a gasp as his lips left hot opened mouthed kisses that trailed from the hollow of your throat to your breasts. 

As his mouth enveloped your nipple, his tongue swirled on the sensitive bud and you let out a breathy, “Oh!”. You continued to grind down on him, your breaths quickening as heat filled your core. 

His thumb flicked your other nipple as he suckled and moaned. The crown on his head slid down on his forehead for the third time, getting in his way and irritating him. He yanked it off his brow and placed it on your head before returning his attention to your breasts. 

Your head fell back and you moaned wantonly at the eroticism of the action. His hands yanked at your skirts, rucking them up enough that his long warm fingers met the sensitive skin of your upper thighs. 

You shivered at his touch even as a bead of sweat dripped down your spine in the cold throne room. 

Never, you’d never been touched in such a way, never been worshiped in such a way, never had the love of your life fully expressed his devotion to you. And when his fingers slipped into your slick and lust swollen cunt, you knew you’d be his until the day you died.

Those fingers teased and rubbed, finding their way to the pinpoint of your pleasure and you gasped so loud it echoed throughout the room. 

He hummed in approval, his lips quirking into a smirk as he looked up at you and you yanked on his hair pulling him into another heated kiss. 

His finger, that damned finger, swirled around your clit and you bit his lip. 

He hissed your name and sunk a finger inside your desperate cunt. This, this was heaven. Fuck the gods and religion, you were his and he was yours and nothing else mattered. 

He slipped another finger inside you, pumping them in and out gently and you moaned as you clenched around those perfect fingers. 

“You’re perfect like this,” he groaned and you whined once more at the praise and with the flick of his thumb against your clit you gasped his name. 

His breaths came heavier as he watched you near your peak, the pupil in his eye lust blown, and the type of adoration in his gaze you’d always yearned for from him. 

Heat coiled in your core, your heartbeat pounded throughout your whole body, and with a moan of his name you came harder than your own fingers had ever brought you. 

His lips were on yours, consuming and devouring you hungrily, swallowing the sounds of pleasure from your lips that only he could elicit. 

Your desire for him did not diminish, no you needed him somehow even more now. You wiggled your hand between the two of you and ran your hand across his hardened cock. 

He moaned into your mouth, and feeling emboldened, you began to attempt to free it from his tight pants. He chuckled, placed a kiss on your jaw and took mercy on you, and assisted you. 

You wrapped your hand around his hardened length, trepidation filling you at the size of him, and you looked back up at his face with a shaky breath, suddenly feeling bashful at your lack of experience.  

Doubt flickered in your mind, what if you couldn’t please him? What if- 

His lips were on yours once again, he kissed you with a steadfastness that reminded you that this was in no way meaningless, this was Aemond - your best friend- expressing his love for you. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured in your ear as he trailed his lips across your throat. His large hand wrapped around your much smaller one and guided you to wrap your hand around his cock. 

You whimpered in desire as he continued to guide you to stroke his throbbing length. He led you to twist your wrist, showed you where to grip tighter, guided you to pump his cock up and down until he was groaning. 

He let go of your hand, and you continued to pleasure him, feeling more powerful than ever before as you held the cock of the Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, as he again dipped his head and encapsulated your nipple in his warm wet mouth. 

You both whimpered in pleasure, and as you ran your other hand through his silver tresses, pulling his head closer into your chest, you felt that there was nothing better in this life than this. 

Until he lifted his head once more, his eye wide and filled with love, and you crushed your lips into his. 

His hand met yours once more, brushing yours away, and he guided his cock to the entrance of your sopping cunt as you settled your hips over his once more. 

Your breaths came heavier as he said, “You are mine.” 

“I’m yours,” you responded, nodding and following his guidance as you began to sink your hips down on his throbbing cock. 

You winced slightly at the stretch, but he ran a hand up and down your back, pulled you closer to him- your chest crushing against his, and dripped honeyed reassurances in your ear.

”You can fit me, my love. You were made for me,” he said. 

Your heart burned for him, and with his grip on your hip you managed to take him completely inside your soaked cunt.  

The frantic feeling in both of you eased as you sat on his lap, stuffed full of him, and felt complete in a way you never had before. 

Your hands ran across his chest, up his shoulders and down to his biceps, gripping the corded muscle you found everywhere. In tandem, he ran his hands up and down your curves, gripping the flesh he found, until his hands enveloped your ass. 

He gripped your ass and led you to shift your hips, grinding down on him in a circular motion. You let out a breathy, “oh!” The feel of him inside of you as you shifted, moving in an erotic way you’d never moved before, threatened to overcome you. 

“You are perfect,” he reassured and you clenched down on him, causing you both to moan. 

When you were ready, he then guided you to lift your hips up until his cock was almost completely out of your cunt, then you sunk back all the way down, sucking him inside your desperate hole, becoming his in a way that was irreversible. 

“Aemond,” you gasped as you repeated the action, continuing to let him guide you. You finally learned how good it felt to be full, to be so full of him you realized how empty and aching for him you’d felt for years. 

His grip tight on you, stuffed full of his cock, as his teeth bit down on your neck, you’d never felt so alive- so free. 

And so you found a rhythm, bounding up and down on his cock, bringing you both pleasure unlike any other. 

With his hands on your hips, your pace quickened, and one of your hands slipped from his shoulder, looking for more leverage and you cut yourself on a blade of the throne. 

You yanked your hand back with a gasp, ceasing your motions atop him, and he looked at you wide eyed. 

“What is it?” He asked and you placed your hand in his. He surveyed the small cut on your finger, you both realized it was small, barely more than a papercut really, you were lucky, and then he brought your hand to his lips. 

You blinked in surprise as he enveloped your finger in his mouth, lips parting and tongue licking the blood off it. 

You stared at him in shock for one moment, two, then three…. long enough that his expression became bashful, before you crushed your lips into his, pillaging his mouth with your tongue, desperate to taste yourself inside his mouth. 

He moaned as his hand on the back of your neck pulled you closer, and then you were both moving again. 

You felt blissful, stretched out in such a wonderful way, and desperate for anything he threw at you. 

“Made for me,” he breathed out once again against your lips. 

“You’re mine,” you replied as you ground down on him. 

He huffed out something between a chuckle and a moan, and with a tight grip of your hips, he said, “I am yours until the day I die.” 

He punctuated every word with a sharp thrust inside you, and with that he took control from you. You gave it to him gladly, and held onto his shoulders, tangled your fingers in his hair as he thrust up inside you at a pace that kept you from breathing properly. 

There was a spot inside you, that you’d explored before with your fingers, but never once had you felt like this as his cock hit that spot repeatedly. Your toes curled and you whined his name in a high pitched voice you didn’t even recognize as your own. 

“For so long I dreamed of what noises I could pull from your lips. Mmmm… the real thing is so much better than anything I could have imagined,” he purred in your ear. 

Your only possible response was a gasp and clenching on his thick length as your mind had separated from your body, there was only him and the pleasure his body provided yours. 

His muttered words in high valyrian, sweet promises of devotion as he continued to fill you. He filled your body, your heart, your soul, and the only expression of devotion you could return was to come on his cock. 

With a moan and a squelch you gushed around him and he gasped, holding you tighter, somehow increasing his pace- the intensity of his thrusts as he followed you over the edge. 

With one final push inside your cunt, he climaxed inside you, filling you with his come, and it was all you could do to kiss him, sloppily and desperate, as he marked you as his. 

You rested your head in his shoulder, breathing him in as you both came down and attempted to slow your heart rates. 

He tattooed his name against your being as he pressed his lips to any bare skin he could reach. 

“I love you,” you whispered, completely baring yourself to him, feeling more vulnerable than ever before, despite your state of undress, despite the fact that he was still inside you. 

“I have loved you for as long as I have known what love is, and I will continue to do so until I am ashes in the wind,” he swore, pulling back to meet your gaze. 

You could only wrap your arms tighter around him and hold him. 

Eventually, he disentangled the two of you, but swatted your hands away as you attempted to retie your bodice. 

“I never said I was done with you,” he growled. 

A shiver ran down your sweat slicked spine. 

You merely let him lead you to stand, watched as he tucked himself back into his pants, then he led you to sit on the iron throne. 

“Aemond,” you protested, but he merely shook his head at you, took a step back, and stared at you. 

There was desire, possessiveness, and feral satisfaction in his eye as he looked you up and down in your disheveled state that he caused. 

You could only imagine how you looked, sprawled on a throne you had no right to sit on, your breasts spilling from your dress, your hair disheveled, and a Targaryen crown crooked utop your head. 

But the Prince Regent only kneeled before you. 

Any doubts of his allegiance, any doubts in him flew away like feathers in the wind as Aemond Targaryen knelt before you, bowed his silver head, then lifted your skirts and spread your legs. 

His groan was drowned out by your loud gasp as he began to feast on you. 

Aemond ruined you and made you anew in the throne room that night, and at dawn the next morning he brought you to the sept and made good on his promise to marry you. 

Damn the consequences and opinions of others, before all the gods Aemond Targaryen declared his devotion to you above all. 

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups. 

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

-

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

-

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

-

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

-

🏷️ @love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9

[chloe-petrichors]

cradling constellations // jace x reader

when rhaenyra brings her family to court to celebrate the king's fiftieth name day, there was but one thing on your mind: getting to see jace, the boy you'd loved in secret, once more.

whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. —emily brontë

fandom; house of the dragon pairing; jacaerys velaryon x f!aunt!reader (no use of y/n) warnings; canon-typical incest, canon-au (it's viserys' birthday party baby), altered timeline (jace and reader are in their 20s) idiots in love, instant attraction/love at first (second) sight, childhood sweethearts (kinda?), soulmate vibes, love confessions, switching povs, smut (mdni !) including masturbation (m), p in v, fingering, oral (f receiving), implied loss of virginity, unprotected sex, mild marriage kink if that’s even a thing, body worship, dirty talk, praise kink, multiple orgasms, mild overstimulation, soft dom vibes, jace being a tits man. word count; 15k+ (oops) notes; me, obsessed with jace? more likely than u think. this whole fic spawned from the fact that i noticed jace's freckles on a gif and lost my gd mind. this was meant to be a quick smut fic. and then i took 11k+ words to get to the smut part. i'm sorry (i'm not). this is totally self-indulgent, soulmates, love at first sight kinda fluff-to-smut and i regret nothing. way too much time of writing this was me trawling through the asoiaf wiki pages to find details that are relevant for one whole sentence. why am i this way. valyrian is pulled straight from a translator i found online, pls let me know if you notice any errors! requests; are open !

the first time you laid eyes on jacaerys velaryon, you knew he was something special.

you had just been children, then, uncertain of each other due to the discontent between your families. but he had been kind to you, dark eyes warm, and it had been an easy thing to be kind in return. your brothers make it difficult, of course, as they seem to do with everything they get involved in. aegon had been the worst at first, spouting off the same vitriol your mother had always whispered into your ears, but aemond had not been far behind him.

after the events of laena’s funeral and the loss of aemond’s eye, the hostilities only grow and grow. helaena keeps herself apart from most of it by virtue of her typically distant manner, but your brothers insist on drawing you into the same arguments again and again. it's tedious, laborious, but they are your family.

jace and luke are too, of course, not that anyone else seems to want to admit it. for all that they are velaryon’s by name (and strong in heart, mayhaps, yes), they are your nephews. your brothers only seem interested in remembering this when it serves them, however — which is usually when they’re lording it over the dark-haired boys.

in truth, the velaryon’s are hardly innocent either. it seems like the two sets of boys bring out the absolute worse in each other without fail, and it’s usually left to you to try and be the voice of reason.

away from your brothers’ taunts, jace is like a different boy entirely. endlessly curious and ceaselessly kind, the brunette seems to always have time to talk and jape with you. your friendship grows surprisingly easy as children, and with early adulthood comes the bloom of a different kind of affection, too. you never say anything, knowing all too well that if your brothers catch even a whisper of your feelings that there will be no end of hells to pay.

it matters little, regardless. your mother will never tolerate a betrothal between the two of you and you know better than to even attempt to broach such a topic. it had been sheer miracle that she hadn’t tried marrying you off to aemond after securing aegon and helaena’s marriage, and you aren’t willing to tempt fate by giving her ideas now. so what if you spend countless nights dreaming of freckled skin and dark hair? it matters not in the scheme of things.

rhaenyra flees kings landing after daemon’s return to westeros, leaving you feeling strangely bereft without your nephews’ company. years go by with no contact from your sister’s family, and so you let your old daydreams fall to the wayside. there’s no use dwelling on what you can’t have, and no point bringing it up since even now just a mention of luke or jace is enough to inflame aemond’s temper.

and then, of course, the news comes that rhaenyra is returning to court for the king’s fiftieth name day. there are great feasts and celebrations planned in honour of your father, which you privately think silly considering it’s unlikely he would be well enough to attend half the festivities. still, there’s no denying your excitement at the idea of seeing jace again. he would be a man grown, now, his twentieth name day having passed only a few moons ago.

for once the majority of your family will be under one roof, and you are certain it will end in disaster — but you intend to enjoy it while you can.

going flying the morning of the velaryons arrival is perhaps not your smartest idea. 

your nerves wake you well before dawn. you feel as if you’re going to crawl out of your skin if you don’t do something, and you know your chances for flying will be limited with the celebrations expected to start tomorrow. so you decided to take the chance while you can, dressing quickly in your riding gear before creeping to the dragon pit well before any of your family wake.

silverwing likes it when you take her for unexpected flights, so she makes no complaint when you have the dragon keepers release her. you go through the motions of saddling her yourself, as you always do, taking the chance to reinforce the bond with your dragon.

silverwing hadn’t been your hatched dragon. the egg that you had slept beside as a babe had never hatched, just as aemond’s and helaena’s hadn’t. it had infuriated aemond when you were children, that jace and luke’s dragons hatched while he was left without. it had made him an easy target for the other boys; aegon had often led the others in riling him about his lack of dragon until he had claimed vhagar. you can admit now that the others had oft been cruel to him in their japing, and it had ended poorly for everyone involved.

your claiming of silverwing had been incredibly boring in comparison. she had found you, in truth, a year after aemond claimed vhagar. she’d been your great-grandmother the good queen alysanne’s dragon before your own, and had not taken a rider since the queen’s death. she’d flown from the dragonmont to find you, and you’ve been nigh on inseparable since. your mother despairs over it, hating how her often her ‘perfect daughter’ has shown up to court late with windswept hair and flushed cheeks.

but, to you, flying is freedom.

there’s nothing else like it in the world; the sensation of silverwing beneath you, the seven kingdoms at your fingertips, and only the sky above. your mother has never really let go of her fear of the dragons, and you can understand it in a way; she is no targaryen, and she’ll never know what it is to bond with a dragon, to have that presence so alien and yet so familiar nudging against the corners of your mind. any attempts to explain it to her are met with bemusement and wariness, and you’d long ago learned to stop bringing it up.

silverwing’s joy to fly merges into your own as you climb atop her, running a soothing hand over the gleaming silver spikes at her neck as you adjust the straps. her impatience thrums loudly through the bond as you settle yourself into the saddle, and you feel her heart beat through you like a second pulse as your own anticipation rises.

“ivestragī īlva sōvegon, ñuha raqiros! [let us fly, my friend!]”

she needs no further nudging than that, and with a delighted roar she launches into the air. your laughter is stolen by the wind as she beats her wings, propelling you higher and higher before sweeping over the towering peaks of the red keep. with a shouted instruction she banks sharply to the left, flying out over blackwater bay as the sun finally crests the horizon. the dark sea lights up with reds and golds beneath you, the sky gloriously blue above, and silverwing’s distinctive scales shine in the breaking dawn.

a glorious morning, you think, and as the two of you climb higher to the sky you feel all your nerves and excitement for anything but the flight leave you. this is what your mother will never understand; flying is an escape, yes, but not from your duties as she assumes it is. this is an escape from your worries, from the petty machinations of court. in the sky with your dragon, you need worry only about how chill the wind will be, or if aemond is out with vhagar, who’s a grumpy old beast at the best of times and silverwing is feeling mischievous.

you find peace, here, in the sky. this is what you were born for.

long minutes pass as you fly leisurely, circling over the bay and the keep and back again in ever widening circles. sometimes silverwing dives just to do so, plunging so close to the blackwater that you could reach out and skim your hand over the dark depths. you lose track of time as the two of you fly, contentment bleeding across the bond so completely you can’t even tell which one of you it’s coming from.

a dragon’s cry in the distance catches your attention, and silverwing pulls up from where she’d been ducking her head into the water to snatch fish. she propels you rapidly higher into the air, crying out in response as you break through the thin cloud cover. you expect to find aegon’s dragon; sunfyre is the only dragon silverwing likes, rather than tolerates, to be making such a noise in greeting.

but it’s an unfamiliar dragon that greets you, olive green scales shining with the damp from the high altitudes. your mind races as you struggle to place it, and it’s only when you catch sight of a head of dark curls astride the dragon that you realise who it is.

vermax.

and jacaerys.

your heart skips in your chest, silverwing’s unexpected excitement tangling with your own nerves as she swoops towards the much smaller dragon. it’s only her sheer happiness that stops you from panicking or shouting a command to halt in valyrian, and moments later you recall she’d have known vermax from her time on dragonstone.

she somersaults over and around vermax playfully, and you release an exhilarated laugh in response as you cling tightly to the saddle. you see only snatches of jace as your dragons fly complicated patterns around each other, but the quick flashes you do get find an easy smile on his face.

the dragons spend a long while flying together, racing and diving and spiralling to new heights. they move so quickly that you have no chance to try and greet jacaerys, can offer nothing more than quick smiles as you pass him. it gives you the time for your nerves to settle back down, time to reassure yourself that any childhood feelings are long faded and that you will be able to act perfectly composed when it is time to greet him.

eventually you realise your dragon is not going to land until you tell her too, and vermax is clearly just as willing to chase after the larger she-dragon for as long as she is willing to be chased.

“māzigon, silverwing. istiti tegun [come, silverwing. we must land],” you shout, laughing again when the dragon whines her displeasure. she listens regardless, soaring down in tightening circles with vermax following close on your tail. her landing in the dragon pit is far from smooth, but you’re well used to compensating for the jostling as she settles onto the ground once more.

you’re quick in freeing yourself from the saddle, murmuring warm thanks and praise to your dragon as you walk to the side of her great head to meet a single burning eye. “kirimvose, ñuha raqiros. kesi sōvegon arlī aderī [thank you, my friend. we will fly again soon],” you tell her, and she responds with a content grumble as she nudges her head gently against your chest in affection.

you leave the dragon keepers to return her to her cave, instead turning to watch as jace shares his own goodbyes with his dragon. you take the chance to look at him, properly look, and find yourself suddenly warring with self-consciousness and a burning in your chest.

despite the acrobatics of the dragons, he looks perfectly put together with his dark curls brushing his shoulders and a pleasing tan to his skin. you fear you must look a ruin, with your hair undoubtedly a mess and cheeks flushed from the cold bite of the wind. your breath is still a touch laboured from the exertion of the flight, while he looks perfectly composed in his fancy black and red doublet. you curse the old gods and the new that you’d picked out your old riding gear this morning — comfortable, yes, but certainly not ideal for greeting the heir to the heir and the man you’d once daydreamed about marrying.

you push the thoughts away with determined stubbornness, refusing to dwell on the warmth in your chest when jace finally turns to look at you. he’s grown, you note immediately, now standing at least a head taller than you. any traces of baby fat have left him, leaving behind a strong, square jaw and strong yet slim shoulders. his dark eyes are warm, though, and his smile friendly as he takes you in.

you dip instinctually into a curtsey, a perfectly respectable greeting ready on your lips, but you’re startled into straightening back to standing when jace laughs.

“come now, princess,” he says, fond and teasing he approaches you. he’s the only one who’s ever been able to make the title sound more like an endearment. “since when have we been ones for formality?”

it sets you at ease immediately, tension relaxing from your shoulders as you beam at him. “i suppose we never have been very good at that, have we?” you let your eyes skip over him again, something like relief settling in your bones at the sight of him. “it’s good to see you again, jace.”

“aye,” he returns, dark eyes sparkling. “it is good to see you, indeed.”

for a long moment he simply looks at you, and it makes that peculiar warmth in your chest blaze a little brighter. there’s something in his face that you’ve never seen there before — but then you think of course there is. you haven’t seen him in so long there’s probably all kinds of things about you him you no longer know. it aches, almost, to think it, but in a way he’s a stranger to you; a man with the kind eyes of the boy you’d loved in secret, once.

you clear your throat as you drop your eyes from his stare, glancing at the bustling keepers as they tend to your dragons instead as you cast about for something to say.

“are the rest of your family not flying in?” you query after a moment.

he shakes his head, dark curls swaying with the movement. “no, arrax and tyraxes are still too small to fly luke and joff for such a journey, and mother would rather stay with my brothers on the ship.”

you nod in acceptance, shifting slightly on the spot. “well then, let me be the first to welcome you back to king’s landing, my prince.” you take the formality out of your tone with a playful wink, and are gratified to see the way he chuckles at your antics.

“i had hoped you’d be the first i’d see.” he admits this casually, as if this doesn’t set your heart and mind racing. “i have missed you, aunt.”

you duck your head again to try and hide the smile spreading across your face. you tell yourself sternly to stop acting like some lovesick child, all the while that small flame continues to burn away inside of you. “and i you, nephew.” you glance up at him shyly from beneath your lashes, teeth worrying at your bottom lip, and you don’t miss the way his eyes track the movement.

he’s the one to clear his throat, this time, stepping a half-pace away from you and gesturing for you to proceed him. “shall we head to the keep, then? my mother’s ship should have arrived by now and we wouldn’t want to miss the formal welcome.”

“as you say,” you agree, and the two of you set off.

you spend the long walk to the keep catching up on the long years between you. you’d expected the time apart to be like a gulf between you, a canyon that could not be crossed, but if anything it’s the opposite. it’s as if you’d last seen each other only hours ago. it should startle you, how simple it feels to fall into your old friendship, but you don’t have it in you to be surprised. that’s always been the thing with jace, after all — it’s easy. being around him, speaking to him, listening to his odd tangents. it all comes as natural to you as breathing, as if there’s a part of you that was just born knowing him.

he's dodging your questions as you finally arrive at the keep, having let slip something about an old secret from the days of your childhood that he’s never shared with you. it makes something flutter in your chest, the way he looks at you as he says it. the way he’s looked at you the whole time, in fact, has you having to bite back a smile. he looks at you as if he is looking at something precious, expression tender and fond and uncomplicated. it threatens to steal your breath again, and so you make an effort to try and act as unaffected as possible, because he cannot mean it in the way you think you might want him too.

“oh, but you simply must tell me!” you wheedle cheerfully, a mischievous smile on your lips. “you wouldn’t keep a secret from me, would you, my prince?”

you pout at him, fluttering your lashes in the way you usually do when trying to get your way with your brothers. jace swallows audibly at the sight, some emotion you can’t read flickering across his eyes as his gaze drops to your mouth and then lower again before returning to your eyes. something in his expression makes you flush, cheeks burning as your lips part slowly. a heat rises in you, unbidden, as he steps ever so slightly closer into your space. you’re overwhelmed with the smell of him; sea salt and dragon smoke and something almost woodsy underneath it, something entirely jace.

he murmurs your name so quietly you almost miss it over the sounds of courtyard. his hand twitches as if to reach for you as he ducks his head slightly, and you think if you lifted yours just so you’d be able to brush your lips over the strong line of his jaw. you realise suddenly how much you want to — how much you want to drag your tongue over his skin and taste.

oh.

oh.

you want him. that peculiar feeling that had been burning in your chest — you recognise the desire for what it is, now. the easy camaraderie that you’d fell into on the walk to the keep subsides in the wake of it, and abruptly all you can think of is what his mouth will feel like on your own. the palpable tension between you makes your hands tremble with the urge to touch, heart pounding so loudly in your ears it drowns out anything that isn’t him as the rest of the courtyard fades away.

you sway the barest inch closer, inhaling his scent deeply, and watch as jace’s nostrils flare in response. with a shaky breath you lift your chin, eyes dropping to his parted lips, and you bite your bottom lip as his tongue sweeps over his own.

“jace…”

“brother! there you are!”

luke’s voice startles you both back to reality as you spring apart. you hadn’t realised just how close you’d gotten, your chests almost brushing with every breath, until the gap between you widens. you drop your eyes to your feet, cheeks blazing with embarrassment as you realise how close you’d come to kissing him in an extremely public place. you chide yourself internally for forgetting yourself, and take another second to gather your composure before lifting your head with a smile.

“hello, nephew,” you greet luke warmly, doing your best to ignore the way jace’s eyes burns into the side of your face. “it is very good to see you again.”

“aunt!” luke fairly cheers, and you note how the youth still clings to his face. while certainly older than the last time you’d seen him, he still seems like a child to you. his limbs are long and gangly, in that awkward stage at the cusp of adulthood where he’s not quite grown into himself yet. he bounds closer, drawing you into a hug that you allow and return with a fond laugh.

“luke, honestly,” jace tuts, shaking his head as the two of you separate. “we’re at court, now. at least try to remember your manners.”

the younger boy winces. “ah, right, yes.” he sketches a quick but perfect bow your way. “it is a great honour to see you once more, princess.” he flashes a cheeky smile and a wink your way as he straightens out, and you press your hand to your mouth to smother a giggle at the exasperated look on jace’s face at his brother’s antics. he’s hardly one to talk, you think, considering how quickly he had dispensed with manners when greeting you.

in return, you dip into a practiced if impish curtsey. “it is a sincere pleasure to see you as well, prince lucerys.”

luke does giggle, then, as jace rolls his eyes so hard you think they’re at risk of falling out of his head. despite his dramatics, you spot the smile twitching at the corner of his mouth as he watches you jape with his brother.

“the queen is looking for you, dear aunt,” luke says after the greetings are done, and your amusement flees you as your stomach drops.

it’s only then you realise that with both luke and jace being here, you’ve certainly missed the official welcome of princess rhaenyra back to court. you wince at the thought of your mother’s ire, resigning yourself to a long lecture about your responsibilities and how dragon riding is ‘not one of them’. jace catches your expression, concern creasing his face as his brows furrow.

“alright?” he checks, and you do your best to offer him a reassuring smile.

“yes, i’m sure all will be well.” you hesitate a moment before offering a one-shouldered shrug, ignoring the voice in your head that sounds far too much like your mother telling you how unladylike such a motion is. “i expect my mother will be displeased with me for missing the official welcome, but the festivities will surely distract her quick enough.”

luke and jace both offer you a commiserating smile as the three of you head into the keep. you expect your mother will be waiting in her solar, which is on a close route to the guest suites set aside for the visiting royals, and so you walk with the velaryons as far as you can. when it comes time to part, jace lingers at the entry of the hall as luke continues down the corridor. his dark eyes are fixed to yours so intensely it steals your breath as you slow to a stop as well.

“i’ll see you at the feast,” he says quietly, capturing your hand in his much larger one and bringing it to his mouth. your breath hitches in your chest, eyes widening as he brushes his lips tenderly over your knuckles. your lips part in surprise, tingles racing up your arm from where his mouth makes contact with your skin. before you have chance to respond, jace dips into a sweeping bow and then bids you farewell, leaving you staring after him for a long moment.

well. if your mother doesn’t kill you, you think jace certainly will.

jace sinks into the hot water of the bath with a deep sigh of relief.

after meeting with his mother to explain why he’d been late to the formal greetings — or, rather, offer excuses as to why he’d been late, since he doesn’t think his mother will take well to the idea he was so busy enjoying himself flying with you that the thought of any formal welcome party left his mind entirely — he’d sought his chambers. the bath had been ready and waiting for him, tendrils of steam wafting from the clear water, and he’d wasted no time in shedding his clothes. he’s keen to wash the dragon stink from his skin before the feast, and he makes quick work of scrubbing his skin clean. when he’s done, he allows himself to relax against the metal of the tub, arms draped carelessly over the metal rim as he soaks.

king’s landing from dragonstone is not too long a journey on dragon back, but flying for such a stretch causes its own particular aches. vermax had enjoyed the chance to stretch his wings, at least, and had enjoyed the playful flight with silverwing even more.

he can admit to himself he’d enjoyed it, too, the sight of you astride your dragon lighting something within him. it’s been so long since he’d seen you, not since the aftermath of laena’s funeral, and he hadn’t been prepared for how the sight of you — breathless and flush and beaming at him — would make him feel. he’d almost managed to push back his boyhood adoration and childhood daydreams of marrying you one day with the years passing, but seeing you again brings it all rushing back and he feels as hopelessly enamoured with you now as he did as a child.

you’ve grown well, there’s no denying that. where childhood had left you sometimes awkward and gangly, you’ve become a woman grown now with all the curves and delights that come with it. he’d been embarrassed at how hard it had been to pull his gaze from you on the trip to the keep, but you’d not seemed to notice. too occupied with filling the air between you with light chatter, you’d been oblivious to the way his eyes had dragged over your form again and again.

you just — you’re so unlike anyone else he knows. he’d let himself forget how lovely you were, but there was no way to ignore it now. riding the high of your flight and genuinely happy to see him, you’d been like something out of a dream. your face had been as open to him as ever, plainly delighted to see him, and seeing you had eased some ache he’d become so used to he’d not even know it was there until he felt the lack of it.

he’s not some foolish child. he knows better than to think of things like love when his head must lie with his duty. but the thought remains regardless, lingering in the back of his mind that you would be as easy to love now as you had been when you were younger. it had been a childish love then, of course; innocent and sweet in the ways only children could be. but it had been there, unspoken and unacted upon, but no less real for it.

you’re not children anymore. it would be impossible to think otherwise with the way your riding gear had clung flatteringly to your chest and hips. your mouth looked so pretty stretched into a smile, a smile for him, and he thinks it’s a testament to his restraint that he’d not kissed you on the spot when you’d pouted so prettily up at him. he’d thought for a fleeting moment that perhaps you were going to kiss him with the way your eyes had darkened, how you’d gravitated into his space as if without intention.

heat pools in his stomach as he thinks about how the neckline of your riding dress had cut low enough to allow him a peak at your chest, heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. he wonders what your mouth would taste like, what noises you would make if he’d slid his tongue against your own. gods, he feels like a green boy seeing a woman for the first time — almost undone at just the thought of you. he won’t be able to get through the welcome feast like this, he thinks, so on edge with his lust for you burning him from the inside out.

it’s not even a conscious choice to curl his fingers around his cock, half-hard already as he thinks of you. jace’s head tips back against the rim of the bath, eyes drifting closed as a quiet gasp escapes him. the warm water eases his way as he strokes himself, and he lets himself imagine it’s your slick, instead.

he pictures you before him, pretends it’s your hand teasing at the skin at the head of his cock. your hands are so small, so dainty, he thinks you probably wouldn’t be able to wrap them all the way around him. he imagines they’re a little calloused — soft, mostly, but with the fingertips just rough enough from years spent riding and caring for your dragon. they’d drag so deliciously against his skin, and you’d take to the task with the same voracious enthusiasm you do with everything else. you’d watch him closely, pick up on the cues of his pleasure, and he’d unravel for you so quickly it’d be embarrassing if it was anyone else.

“fuck,” he hisses out, thumb dragging over the liquid leaking copiously from his tip. his head tips back even further, water dripping from his curls onto the stone floor as he chases his release. his imagining splinters into disconnected fantasies; you, on your knees with your mouth stretched around him, lashes damp with reflexive tears as your eyes fix on his. you, sprawled beneath him and writhing as he feasts on your cunt like a man starved. you, babbling in high valyrian as he sinks into the tight wet heat of you. you, clenching and shuddering around his cock as you come for him, blazing and beautiful. you, you, you.

his release hits him hard, a low groan tearing from his throat as his hips thrust up into his hand as he drags out those last few moments of pleasure. his panting breaths sound loud in the silence of his chambers, and jace is suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he is alone. there is, of course, no trace of you.

he knows in that moment he has to have you. he cannot tolerate the thought of anyone else — not for himself, and certainly not for you. he wants you as his wife, his queen, the mother of his children. jace doesn’t care how he must do it — as long as you’re as willing as he is, he is going to make you his.

the feast has started by the time jace arrives.

his indulgence had cost him time, and then he’d spent longer than usual readying himself while trying to ignore the fact he was doing so only to impress you. by the time he makes it to the hall his family are already seated and the minstrels are playing a jaunty tune. his eyes seek you instantly, and he resists the urge to frown in disappointment as he sees you sat between helaena and aemond. he’d hoped to sit beside you and use this time to see if there was any hint of you returning his feelings. no matter — there would be time enough later. if he has his way, there’ll be all the time in the world.

you look beautiful, he notes. you’re dressed in your usual deep green, the gown cut flatteringly for your shape. your face is animated and happy as you chat to aemond, and though he finds the idea of anyone enjoying that grumpy prick’s presence bizarre, he enjoys the sight of you so at ease.  

as he approaches the head table and the empty seat between his mother and luke, your eyes linger on him. he’s gratified by the way you light up when you spot him, offering him a warm smile in welcome for all that you’re quickly entangled into a conversation with your sister. it eases some of the sting at finding you unavailable, and he’s helpless but to smile back at you even when your gaze slides back to helaena.

luke eyes him strangely as he settles into his seat but says nothing as jace reaches for a goblet of wine. his mother greets him absently, entangled as she is in conversation with the king, and he takes the moment to glance out at the hall.

it’s a relatively small feast. large enough to not cause offence to the heir to the throne, but not so grand as to detract from the festivities planned for the next fortnight. he recognises a few faces in the crowd, people from different houses from across the kingdoms. the king’s birthday celebrations are no small affair, and he spots representatives from all the great houses as well as some of the more minor ones.

it makes him want to slump in his seat, for all that he keeps his posture straight. he knows the next few weeks will be full of politicking and double speak, and it grates. as the heir to the heir, jace knows it’s partially his responsibility to ensure their alliances still stand while seeking out any news one that might present themselves. he has no doubt that some of the lords in this crowd will have brought their daughters, planning to parade them in front of him and his brothers in hopes they might pick one as their betrothed.

his lack of betrothal has been a point of contention for many of the court, he knows. most had assumed he would be betrothed to his stepsister baela, and he’d thought the same for years. it was only when his mother had confided that baela had no interest in being queen and, in fact, was so strongly opposed to the idea that she swore to fly to essos and never be seen again if they tried marrying her to him that he realised just why such a betrothal had never been announced.

it had left him free, in a way, to pursue his own desires; without a betrothal attached to him he’d shed any guilt about seeking company at the pleasure houses. but, in turn, it had left him open to the machinations of the other houses who all sought to have their blood on the iron throne. it’s incredibly tedious, but he knows he must grin and bear it for the sake of his mother and his house.

the food arrives then, and he busies himself with the meal and talking to his siblings. his grandsire makes a speech welcoming his daughter and her family home, and jace notes the sour faces of alicent’s sons. they keep their tongues, at least, which shows a maturity from them he truthfully hadn’t expected. perhaps they’ve grown just as you have, he thinks, but dismisses the thought when aemond catches his eye and only sneers in response to jace’s tentative smile.

he's often wondered at the conflict between the two sides of the family. the animosity now he can pinpoint, of course; aemond losing his eye. but there had been years before that of tense, standoffish behaviour interspersed with camaraderie when everyone seemed to forget they weren’t meant to be friends. he remembers playing pranks with aegon while luke trailed after them, and he remembers sitting with helaena while she perused the dirt for bugs.

he remembers you, most of all. kind and fearless and smart, you’d enamoured him from the moment he was old enough to recognise girls were different to boys in interesting ways. even before then you’d been fast friends, something in your similarly mischievous behaviour drawing you into each other’s orbit. he’s always been drawn to you, he thinks, to the uncomplicated joy you took in your life. there was so much to be miserable about, so much duty on all your shoulders, but you always found something to smile over. your unfailing optimism would no doubt be irritating to some, but to him it has always been one of his favourite things about you.

his gaze, predictably, shifts to you. he startles to find you looking at him already. you flush immediately as your eyes lock, presumably embarrassed at being caught, and he enjoys the colour it brings to your cheeks. you don’t drop his stare, though, not until helaena says something to draw your attention back to her once again. he catches sight of a private little quirk of your lips as your head turns, and something like satisfaction settles in his chest as he hides his own smile in his goblet.

perhaps this feast won’t be as tedious as he’d feared.

“are you enjoying the festivities, princess?”

jace’s voice pulls you from where you’ve been staring into your wine as if it holds all the secrets of the world. you’ve lost count of how many goblets you’ve had, chattering away with your siblings before aegon had started to become cruel in his inebriation and you’d all opted to split apart through the hall. you glance up to find the velaryon prince standing before you, hands perched loosely on the hilt of his sword. he looks unfairly handsome, you think, with his tumble of curls and well-fitted doublet, and something about the slight smirk on his face makes you think he knows it.

“i am enjoying them well enough,” you allow, flicking your gaze from his to look out at the dance floor. aemond is dancing with helaena, aegon far too deep into his cups to bother thinking of his wife. your mother is as tense as she has been since you’d found her earlier; her stepdaughter’s arrival to court has set her incredibly on edge, and the lecture she’d given you earlier had certainly been one of her worst. and your father is oblivious to it all, simply too pleased at the presence of his favoured daughter to care about the way the rest of his family are fracturing apart.

he's not been a good father to you, the king. he’s called you and helaena rhaenyra more than once over the years, and even when his eyes are you on you, you never feel like it’s you he sees. your mother had tried to soothe the ache of his absence, of his blatant favour for a woman who was not here, but as the years stretched on even she had seemed to fade further and further away from you all. for so long it’s just been the four of you, clinging to each other and tearing each other apart in equal measure. you’ve oft thought that daeron is the luckiest of you, able to thrive at the hightower and away from the mess of your family.

you pause at the maudlin turn of your thoughts, peering contemplatively into your wine again before offering jace a slightly sheepish smile. “i… fear i may have indulged in too much wine,” you admit, startling a laugh from the darkhaired prince.

it’s aegon’s fault, you decide; before he’d gotten belligerently drunk he’d been so cheerful, seemingly pleased to have the pressure of being the eldest targaryen child in court off of his shoulders. in his cheer he had plied you with wine, laughing and japing with an arm over your shoulder as you reminisced on simpler times of your childhood. happy to see him so, you’d not resisted, but now you find yourself regretting those choices as your thoughts tumble sluggishly through your mind.

jace shakes his head fondly at you, reaching out to carefully steal your goblet away. his fingers brush against yours as he does so, the barest of touches and yet enough to set your heart racing as you blink slowly up at him. he sips from your wine deliberately, amber eyes darkening as he holds your stare, and your lips part with an unsteady breath. something about him drinking your wine from your cup has your stomach fluttering pleasantly.

gods, i want him.

the thought is enough to startle you, heat suffusing your cheeks as you avert your gaze. jace doesn’t, though, and you can feel the weight of his stare on you like a tangible thing. it makes your skin prickle with warmth, and you lurch a touch unsteadily to your feet before you can say anything silly like ‘kiss me, please’.

“i think i should retire to my chambers before i make a drunken fool of myself,” you announce, fingers smoothing over the green velvet of your dress.

“i’ll escort you,” jace returns, tone leaving no room for argument.

he sets aside the wine and offers you his arm, quirking an eyebrow as if in challenge. you hesitate for barely a second, taking a steadying breath, before looping your arm through his and allowing him to lead you through the crowd towards the open doors. the woodsy smell of him you’d noticed before is clearer, now, and you take another deep breath of the scent. it calms your nerves and yet inflames your desire, and your fingers tighten infinitesimally against his bicep.

you stop at the doors of the feasting chamber for long enough to let ser erryk know that you’re retiring for the evening, leaving it to him to pass the message on to your mother, and then you and jace are alone in the halls of the keep.

of course, you’re not truly alone. guards litter the corridors and even at this late hour servants bustle along, busy with their chores. but in the quiet of the keep as jace leads you to your rooms, you can almost imagine yourself alone with him. the thought threatens to overwhelm you, mad fantasies of him tugging you into a dark alcove to devour you flashing through your mind, and you scold yourself internally.

you’re really very cross with aegon. he and his wine have left you in this state, too far into your cups to keep control of your dangerous wonderings. if only he had not kept calling for more of that gods-be-damned arbor gold, you’d have been able to keep your wits about you. you’d wanted to dance at the feast, too, mayhaps even with jacaerys but at the very least with your brothers. instead, you’re being led back to your rooms like a child who’s had their first taste of wine with dinner and let it go to their head.

jace’s presence helps your intoxication little. seeing him again, touching him, smelling him — it’s all too much when all your defences are down like this. you feel like a girl again, staring breathlessly after him and so full of certainty that you love him, and it’s just— ridiculous. you’ve spent mere hours in his presence and you’re like some lovelorn idiot with no thought in your mind beyond being as close to him as is possible. it’s foolish, reckless, absurd. but it’s there, regardless, unfurling in your chest with a lovely kind of agony.

you keep quiet on the walk, too afraid that if you open your mouth you’ll beg him to have his way with you or, worse, confess your re-blooming infatuation for him, and jace seems content enough to walk in silence for a while. eventually, though, he speaks.

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen you drunk before,” he observes, tone light.

you glance at him sidelong, pursing your lips at the teasing smirk curling on his mouth. “it’s aegon’s doing,” you tell him solemnly. “my brother is something of an expert on the subject of wines, and his tolerance is… much higher than mine own.”

jace snorts. “aye, i had noticed.”

you lapse into silence, again, only now you find yourself stealing glances at him. he really is very pretty, you think, though in quite a masculine way. something about the sharp line of his jaw and the curl of his eyelashes keeps drawing your attention, and you suspect you are not being subtle with your admiration in your inebriated state. as you walk by an open window moonlight floods into the hall, sending jace’s profile into sharp relief, and your eyes catch on the smattering of freckles on his smooth skin. something about the pattern makes you think of the stars, and you realise too late that your quick glances have turned to a lingering stare.

“is there something on my face, princess?”

jace’s mockingly innocent words draw your eyes to his. he’s smirking down at you, eyes dancing with amusement, and your cheeks flush. gods, you don’t think you’ve blushed so much in moons compared to the mere hours you’ve spent in his company. the things this man is doing to you — it is unconscionable. you don’t know how much more of this you can take before your resolve breaks.

“i apologise, my prince,” your respond after a beat, teeth biting at your lip. “i did not mean to… i was leagues away.”

his eyes darken, mischief fleeing them in favour of flickers of something else as they linger on your mouth, and that damnable heat in your stomach blazes. you want desperately to surge forward and kiss him, or for him to take you in his hands and kiss you. you just want, and ache, and burn. and it’s too much, far too much for your wine-addled brain to process, but you know if anyone was to happen upon you in this corridor, starting at him with your mouth parted and your breaths shuddering through your lungs, there will be consequences.

“we should— we are almost at my chambers.” your words are stumbling, loud in the sudden quiet that had descended over the pair of you, and jace startles a little, eyes darting away from yours as your stomach plummets. gods, what are you doing? staring at him in such a way? he must think you a simple-minded fool, gaping at him for the sake of a few freckles. you step away from him, rubbing your arm as you turn your eyes to stare intently at your feet instead. “i can make it the rest of the way from here. you should return to the feast.”

jace is quiet for a long moment and you peek up at him to see him watching you with an indecipherable expression for a charged breath before nodding slowly and taking a step away.

“as you wish,” he murmurs, ducking his head in a simple bow. “sweet dreams, princess.”

you stutter out your own farewell, half-convinced you’ll be dreaming of nothing but his hands and his mouth this night, before turning and all but fleeing down the hall.

oh, yes. jacaerys is certainly going to be the death of you.

jace spends the next few days at court so entangled in his responsibilities he feels he barely sets eyes upon you.

he and his mother are roped into starting the celebrations in the absence of the king himself. his grandsire’s health is failing, of that there is no doubt, and after enjoying himself a touch too heartily at the welcome feast he requires a few days to recover. he thinks perhaps that’s why these festivities are so important; it’s unlikely the king will make it to his five and fiftieth name day, and almost certainly not his sixtieth. it leaves him with… complicated feelings.

when his grandsire dies, he will no longer be the heir to the heir, but the heir to the iron throne itself. it’s a daunting thought; for all that his mother has seen him well prepared to sit his throne one day, it feels such an impossible task. he doesn’t understand how he’s ever supposed to be ready for such a thing.

the thought rises, unbidden, that it would be easier with you by his side. with your kind heart but sharp mind, you’d make a fine queen. he finds himself daydreaming of it still and scolding himself all the while for acting the green boy, and yet unable to stop. it’s as if his every thought leads back to you in some way or another — he sees a flower and wonders if you’d like the smell of it, or sees a dress and thinks of how much lovelier it would look on you. at night he indulges in more sensual wonderings, and he swears he’s not felt the urge to touch himself so much since he was a boy of five and ten just starting to discover the pleasures the touch of another can bring.

for all that you’d appeared to reject him the night of the welcome feast, he finds himself certain you desire him just as he does you. in fact, he fancies it’s that very desire that had led to you fleeing his company and avoiding him in the days after.

because you are avoiding him.

yes, he is busy with the festivities and you are perhaps equally so. but he does not think it’s busyness that drives you to seek conversation with absolutely anyone else when he looks for your company, and it is not busyness that has you clinging to aemond’s side so fiercely either. you know he won’t approach you when you’re with your brother, knowing how it hurts you to see them trade barbs and knowing himself well enough to know he will not be able to bite back his rancour if aemond says a word about his father.

jace is not an idiot. he knows what people say about him, the words they barely bother to whisper behind their hands about who his true sire is. he has complicated feelings about that, too, but it all boils down to one simple thing: he is his mother’s son. she is heir to the king, and he is her heir. for him, that’s all that can matter.

he knows it’s all that matters to you, too. for all that your brothers had spit bastard at him for as long as he can remember, you’ve never done so. you’ve never looked at him differently for the rumours of his birth, and it’s just one thing among many he treasures about you.

perhaps it’s foolish, to cling to these childhood feelings so tightly, but he cannot let the idea of the two of you together go. he knows luke has noticed how he stares after you in longing, since his brother has never been shy about teasing him relentlessly. he thinks his mother has noticed, too, from the few carefully inane comments she’s made about betrothals and duty. 

he supposes an argument could be made for the fact that with the years without contact between you, he doesn’t really know you anymore, not as he once did, but he doesn’t feel it matters. he can learn anything new about you and will in fact do so joyfully, but the important things? the things that speak to who you are at your core? jace has always known those, has always felt connected to you in a way he never has with another, and he loves you now just as he did as a boy. 

it would be easier in a way if he felt sure you didn’t reciprocate his feelings. at least then he could try and move on from them, put to bed his endless wonderings of you. but for as often as he turns his head to look at you, he finds you looking away from your own watching of him. the few, brief interactions he has with you over the next few days feel loaded, the desire and affection between you a palpable thing, and he’s tiring of pretending there’s nothing there anymore.

he’s tired of pretending he doesn’t miss you.

so, at the halfway point of the celebrations when there’s another, larger feast held with plenty of chances for dancing and sneaking away into dark corners, he makes it a point to keep an eye on you. the moment he spots you, finally alone, he beelines for you. your attention is on your necklace, readjusting the pendant that rests on your chest, and he cannot help but let his gaze linger on the swell of your breasts as he approaches. he’s found himself staring at your chest more often than is wholly appropriate over the last few days, but then he knows his own weaknesses when it comes to a woman’s form.

“p-prince jacaerys,” you greet weakly when you look up from your necklace, hands smoothing over the skirts of your dress. your eyes dart about the room as if seeking a rescue from someone, and he tries not to feel how such a response to his presence stings. “how are you enjoying the feast?”

“well enough,” he returns, echoing the words you’d spoke to him days ago. gods, has it only been days since that conversation? it feels like an age, and he has felt more distant from you in these passing moments than he is in your years apart.

“that is… good.” your fingers twist around each other, teeth catching on your bottom lip, and he has to swallow back the sudden rush of desire to be the one nipping at the pouting flesh.

“would you do me the honour of a dance, princess?”

his request startles you, eyes widening as your fingers drop back to your side in surprise. he thinks for a wild moment that you’ll say no, make some excuse to remove yourself from him, and he feels himself bracing for the rejection. but you hesitate, searching his face, and whatever you find there seems to soften something in you as you nod.

“of course.” you offer him your hand, an unsure smile on your face.

he takes it with relief, trying not to react at the sensation of your hand in his own. he was right in thinking your hands are smooth, but as he leads you to the dance floor and your fingers slide over his palm he feels the drag of callouses as he’d expected. it pulls him back into that heated imagining of before for a moment, and he has to shake his head slightly to keep himself from losing his wits.

you stay quiet as he guides you into position, dainty hand resting on his shoulder as he places his own at your hip. he leads you through the first few steps in quiet, too, taking the moment to enjoy having you in his arms, having you close. but he realises after a silent minute that you’re obviously not going to say anything, and even as he looks beseechingly at you appear to avoid meeting his eyes.

“you’ve been avoiding me,” he speaks lowly, watching you carefully as you stare purposefully at the bridge of his nose instead of his eyes.

your eyes flicker away and back and then away again, fingers tightening around his own as he leads you through the steps of the dance effortlessly. “aye,” you admit quietly. “i have been.”

“why?” he doesn’t mean to sound so desperate nor so accusing, but the quiet hurt that your absence has caused him surges forth before jace can stop it.

you finally meet his gaze, eyes helpless and wanting and aching, and his stomach twists at the sight of your conflicted expression.

“i— jace, i can’t.” your voice cracks with the weight of your emotion and without thinking he pulls you closer, arm wrapping tight around your waist to provide you some semblance of comfort. “i can’t. not here, please.”

wordlessly he alters the steps of the dance, drawing you with precision through the crowd of dancers until you come to one of the balconies. it’s blessedly empty of anyone else, and as soon as you realise it some tension seems to shake loose of you.

you step out of his grip slowly, almost reluctantly, and walk to the railing, palms splaying on the stone. he joins you after the barest hesitation, drinking you in as you stare out at the courtyard and beyond. he notices how tightly you grip the banister, colour leeching from you knuckles with the strength of your grip, and almost without thinking jace rests his hand beside your own, pinkie fingers brushing. the touch seems to release something in you and he hears how your breath shudders before you speak.

“i embarrassed myself on the night of the welcome feast,” you confess miserably. “i drank too much, and the way that i behaved— staring at you in that way— it was not becoming behaviour of a princess, nor of a, a friend. i did not wish to make you uncomfortable again, so i thought it best i keep my distance from you.”

he blinks in surprise. “uncomfortable?” the mere idea of such a thing is maddening. he recalls the sight of you before him, lips parted and oh so kissable as you’d stared at him with such intention it had set him ablaze. how in the name of the gods can you think he found such a thing uncomfortable? “princess, i can assure you, the only feeling i took from your admiration is delight.”

your head snaps around, eyes finally meeting his own again, and he shakes his head in bemusement at the sight of your desperate hope. “truly? you do not jest?”

he resists the urge to chuckle, knowing you’ll take any kind of laughter, no matter how well meaning, poorly. instead he reaches for you, grasps your hands in his own and tries not to bask in the way you lean into him as he steps recklessly into your space. he feels your trembling breaths puff against his jaw as he ducks his head to stare intently into your eyes, and if he were a weaker man jace thinks he’d be on his knees in prostration for you in that very moment.

“surely you must know how i feel for you?” he murmurs, tracking the way the flush in your cheeks travels down your neck and onto your chest with greedy eyes. “how desperately i adore you?”

“jacaerys—.” you huff, shaking your head in denial for all that with every breath you take you sway ever closer to him. “we hardly know each other anymore. i won’t deny there is, is a yearning between us, mayhaps, but you cannot claim to adore me when you know me not. it’s been years since—"

“—do you think time matters?” he talks over you, strong in his conviction that you and he share a bond that transcends time or distance or duty. “that any distance between us could change what i know in my bones? i loved you before i had a name for it. i loved you when we were children and, yes, i love you again now. mayhaps i don’t know your favourite sweet or if you prefer to watch the sun rise or set, but i know you. i know who you are, princess, for all that i might no longer know the rest of it. i know your good heart, your quick mind and i know that i love you.” he hesitates, drinks in the dawning, open wonder on your face, and then adds, “and i think you might love me just the same.”

you sigh out his name sweetly, fingers tangling with his own as he squeezes your hands tenderly. you tilt your chin towards him as your eyes flutter shut. his nose slides against your own as you turn just so to the side, and your mouth is so close. he could kiss you, right now, and he knows that you would not pull away. but he’s too aware of the noise of the feast, the crowd of people that at any moment could find you in a compromising position.

he wants you, gods does he want you, but he will not ruin your reputation, will not sully your virtue for the sake of a stolen kiss on a balcony when he desires no less than forever with you.

“i will not push you,” he murmurs against your lips, breathing the air right from your lungs as he presses his forehead to yours for just a moment. “if you do not want this — if you do not return my feelings — i won’t push you nor pursue you. i hold too great a respect for you for that.” he cradles your jaw, thumb dragging at the corner of your mouth, and he glories in the way you shudder at his touch. with an unsteady breath he separates himself from you, hands clenching into fists at his side in an effort not to immediately reach for you again.

“but if you decide you want me as i want you, that you love me as ardently as i you, then my chambers will be unguarded and unlocked for you.” he sketches a bow, heart thundering in his chest as you stare at him in wordless shock. “i hope to see you later tonight, my princess.”

you have no chance to respond before jace leaves you standing on the balcony.

he leaves you with your mind swirling, one thought after another coming so quickly you have no hope in processing them. you’re glad to be outside, at least, the cool breeze helping soothe the heat that blazes through your veins as you press your hand over your racing heart. you don’t know what to think, what to feel, what to do. all you can think about is jace, earnest and honest and in love with you.

he’s in love with you (!).

it’s too quick. too much time has passed with too little contact. in the years since he left court you’ve grown into new people, people who for all intents and purposes are strangers to each other. the lust is there, there’s no point in denying that with how your body warms at the smallest glance from him. and that old familiarity that blossomed as friendship as children and now into easy companionship as adults, that remains as it always has. and mayhaps you’ve thought to yourself, in the dark quiet of the night, that you’ll surely love him once more. that to know him any better at all is to love him again, because how can you know him and not love him?

but there’s been years and leagues between you for so long. time and distance have their ways of changing a heart, and he might say it doesn’t matter but it does. it does.

only it doesn’t, not at all, because giddiness is bubbling up in you so sudden that you cannot fight it, a helpless laugh escaping you as you press your hand over your mouth in unabashed amazement. your brave prince, plunging headfirst into the long-unspoken feelings between you. it incites you to act, drives you back into the hall where you catch aegon for long enough to tell him you’re retiring for the night before escaping into the quiet corridors.

you feel like your heart is going to burst in your chest, nerves and excitement and awe twisting together inside of you until you feel like you might vibrate out of your own skin. the walk to jace’s chambers is a haze, and in the morning you expect you’ll panic, wonder if anyone saw you walking so shamelessly towards the prince’s rooms. but now, in this moment, all you can think of is how fervently you want him, how guilelessly you love him.

the knock on his door — unguarded, as he had promised — echoes loudly in the silent corridor. you can hear your own heartbeat thundering in your ears as you wait for him to answer, and when he finally does he takes your breath away.

he’s shed his doublet and sword belt, standing in only his breeches and a billowing off-white tunic. the ties are loose on his neck and you’re entranced by the peek of tanned skin there, the freckles you can see disappearing beneath the shirt. he says your name, once, and your eyes snap back to him in time to see the relief and wonder coalesce into smouldering fire.

he curls his fingers around your wrist, thumb swiping over the delicate skin in a way that makes you shiver, and he uses the hold to wordlessly tug you into his chambers. you step into the space, eyes darting from the large bed to the roaring fire and back to the bed again as he locks the doors behind you.

you are finally, blissfully, alone.

you feel his presence behind you, heat and woodsmoke radiating from him as you turn to face him. something in your chest loosens at the blatant awe in his amber eyes, like liquid gold in the light of the flames, and before you can pause to think you’re speaking, your feelings escaping you in a flood.

“i shouldn’t be here,” you say shamelessly. “i know my being here is—. i shouldn’t be here. but i couldn’t not be, jace, not when you left without giving me a chance to tell you how i feel. because, gods, of course i feel for you. it’s unreasonable, insensible— there’s so much about each other we just don’t know anymore.” you shake your head, smiling at him wide and helpless and hopelessly, hopelessly in love with him. “but despite all the rationality in the world, all the good sense — despite knowing the trouble this is sure to bring us — i am completely and utterly in love with you, jacaerys velaryon.”

he kisses you, then, surges into your space and cups your cheeks and slots his mouth so sweetly against yours. you gasp into his lips as he kisses you deliberate, slow and tender in a way that makes your chest ache. your arms loop around his neck, pulling him as close as you can as his own arms wrap around your waist. your noses bump and your teeth clash in your eagerness and it’s still glorious, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever experienced because it’s him.

it’s always been him.

you part after a few minutes, remaining close together as he runs his hand through your hair before cradling your face once more. “tell me again,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing your breath.

“i love you,” you say, smiling so wide it makes your cheeks ache. “i love you, i love you, i lo—”

he kisses you again, a quick press of his mouth against your this time, and then he’s laughing softly as his golden eyes shine down at you. “i have loved you forever,” he tells you, indulgent and affectionate as his thumb traces over your cheek. “i will love you forever, my princess.”

he draws you closer still, holds you tightly against him but far enough that he can drink you in, and for long moments you simply bask in the presence of each other, of this slow unfurling of happiness in your heart. this close to him, you can once again see the freckles dotted across his face. without even thinking of it your hand rises, and with butterfly-gentle fingers you trace a path over the constellations mapped on sun-kissed skin. jace sighs softly with your touch, dark lashes fluttering closed as his lips part.

“iksā sīr gevie [you are so beautiful],” you murmur, slipping into high valyrian in the quiet of his chambers.

he exhales shakily, breath hitching in his chest as your fingers brush gently over his eyelids, the slope of his nose, the furrow of his brow. you want to remember him like this forever – bathed in the soft firelight, trembling beneath your tender touch, wholly and entirely yours.

“ñuha dārilaros [my princess],” he breathes, and hearing him speak possessively of you in your mother tongue ignites something within you so suddenly you cannot fight it.

arousal roars to life, deep in your belly, and you are helpless but to do anything but lean forward and press your lips to his once more. jace meets you just as greedily, hands gripping tightly to the flesh of your hips as he hauls you closer until your chests press together. your hand moves from his face to fist in his hair, tugging at his curls until he whines against your lips. he kisses you deep and open mouthed and filthy, tongue sliding against yours so deliciously that you can feel heat pulse between your legs.

one of his hands comes up to tangle in your hair, pulling until your head is tilted back. he trails hot, wet kisses along your neck and you hiss at the sensation, pressing his head closer to your skin. you feel him smirk against you before he mouths at your pulse point, teeth nipping just enough to send a thrill of pain and pleasure through you.

“jace,” you moan, grinding against him shamelessly as he sucks a bruise into the sensitive skin of your throat. you want him so fiercely it makes you reckless, makes you insatiable as the hand not buried in his curls drags down his back to grip at his ass. he groans against you, your name spilling from his lips so deep and husky that you want to do whatever you can to make him say it like that again and again and again.

“this is— we shouldn’t,” he says into your skin. he pushes at the shoulder of your dress to expose more of your bare skin to his greedy eyes, lips trailing the path his fingers have taken. “we should wait until we—. if anyone knew of this—”

“—no one will know,” you assure him, fingers flexing into the taut skin of his ass to drive him closer to you.

“i don’t want to, to besmirch your honour.” even as he speaks he’s dragging his tongue against your collarbone, chasing a bead of sweat down to the swell of your chest.

“fuck my honour,” you burst out, and your language has him moaning. you hitch your leg around his waist and his hand drops instantly to grip you at the knee, pulling you just so until the hard length of him is grinding deliciously against your core. you can’t think, can’t breathe, for wanting him. his touch and his scent and his taste consumes you, inflames you, and you care for nothing but the feel of him against you.

he pulls away from your chest, mouth swollen and pupils blown as he pants hotly. he presses his forehead to yours, squeezing your hip to still you as you shamelessly try to rub yourself against him. “this will bring ruin to you if it gets out, do you understand? it would break me to be the cause of such a thing.”

his desperation makes you hesitate, something about the fierce tone breaking into the haze of lust that consumes you. you take a moment to look at him, and you know with certainty that if you ask him to stop right this second he will.

but you don’t want him to stop. you’ve never wanted anything less.

“jace.” you cup his cheek, thumb dragging over his bottom lip as you force him to keep your gaze. “i know the risks of this as well as anyone.” you lean in closer, your nose sliding against his before you tilt your head to pepper soft, deliberate kisses along his jaw, the corner of his mouth. “i love you.” he sighs softly in pleasure before turning his head to capture your mouth again, and this kiss is a softer, slower thing.

when you break apart, you stare deeply into his eyes, making sure he can see the truth of your words. the heat in his amber eyes threatens to splinter you to pieces as you swallow thickly, almost overwhelmed once more with your desire for him.

“i am yours, jacaerys velaryon,” you say steadily. “no matter what happens from here— i belong to you.”

it’s like a dam breaks in him. his hands are suddenly everywhere as his mouth devours yours relentlessly, leaving you gasping and arching into his touch. he backs you towards his bed as his hands fist in your skirts, bunching the material up to your hips. he breaks from your mouth long enough to tug your dress over your head, leaving you in your thin small clothes, and despite the sweltering heat of the room your nipples harden beneath the sheer material.

“look at you, pretty thing,” he says reverentially, the weight of his heated gaze tangible as he stares at your heaving chest. “is this all for me?”

“yes,” you hiss, head tilting back as he trails kisses down the column of your throat. “all for you, jace. only ever for you.”

he groans at your words, deft fingers making quick work of the complicated stays of the brassiere, and when the material falls from you he stares for a long moment as if transfixed by the sight of your bare breasts. it makes you smug, knowing that those times you’ve caught his eyes lingering on your chest haven’t just been in your imagination.

“you are perfect,” he murmurs worshipfully, large hand cupping the side of your breast tenderly. “such a perfect girl for me.”

his thumb sweeps over your nipple, featherlight at first before returning more firmly when you sigh and lean into his touch. his other hand grips your hip once more, pulling you close to him as he lavishes more attention on your neck. he nips and kisses his way down your throat, your shoulder, the swell of your breast until he’s hunched slightly in front of you, sucking bruises into the tender skin of your chest.

“jacaerys, please.” you know not what you’re pleading for, only that you need something, and it’s as if he can read your mind as his mouth closes over your nipple. his hand, now free, gropes at your other breast as his tongue swirls tight circles around your nipple and your head tips back with a moan. it’s somehow enough and yet not, your hips bucking aimlessly as heat and slick pools between your legs, and you crave.

“more, please,” you beg shamelessly.

jace drops to the floor in response and the sight of him on his knees for you has your head spinning. he presses open mouthed kisses to the soft skin of your abdomen, bites gently at your hip as his hands slide steadily up your legs. you tremble beneath his careful ministrations, and he murmurs wordless assurances into your sweat-slick skin.

he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your smalls, dragging them agonisingly slowly down your legs until you can step out of them. standing completely bare before him you expect to find yourself shy, but the way jace looks at you rapturously has liquid heat licking through your veins instead.

he leaves lingering kisses on your thigh and down your leg, and when his mouth brushes over the tender skin at the back of your knee you feel them buckle. he huffs a gentle laugh against you, warm hands cradling your waist as he urges you to sit back on the bed. you do so unsteadily, planting your hands against the soft feather mattress and watching him with intent ardour.

he nudges your legs apart and settles between them, his shoulders spreading you wide around him and you release a soft breath as his thumbs rub soothing circles into your thighs. “let me take care of you, my princess,” he pleads, eyes wide and soft and beseeching as he gazes up at you. you nod hesitantly, not wholly sure what he intends, but then his eyes finally drop to your core and darken so quickly it makes your mouth dry.

“gods, look at you.” he drags a finger through your folds and your head cants back, a whine escaping you at the touch. “you’re so wet for me, love. so gorgeous.” he brings his finger to his mouth, licking it clean of your slick and it has your mouth dropping open because he’s obscene, you think. he’s glorious.

“you taste so good,” he says, his voice so rough with arousal it makes you shiver. “wanna taste more of you.”

with no more warning that that, he licks a deliberate strip along your slit before circling his tongue over your clit. your hand shoots to his hair, tangling in the dark curls as he feasts on you. his name falls from your lips over and over again like a prayer as he laps at your core, tongue pressing deliciously inside you. you grind wantonly against his mouth, panting as he laves at your cunt.

your pleasure climbs sharply, rising so high you’re helpless to resist the way your stomach tightens. as if sensing your approaching high jace shifts his focus to your pulsing clit, flicking his tongue rapidly over the bundle of nerves.

“jace, gods, feels so good,” you gasp out, fingers tightening in his curls to press his head impossibly closer. “please don’t stop, ‘m so close—”

he sucks harshly on your pearl, ever so carefully dragging his teeth over the sensitive flesh, and you fall to pieces as that tightly wound ball in your stomach snaps. he coaxes you through the trembling release, gentling his attention on you to drag out your pleasure until you’re squirming away from him in sensitivity. when he pulls away from your core his face is shining with your slick and the sight makes you feel feral. you bend to reach him and he presses up to meet you, kissing you hot and messy as you drink the taste of yourself from his mouth.

“you did so well for me, my princess,” he pants into your mouth as he crowds you onto the bed and the praise blooms hot in your chest. “need you to be good for me a little longer, okay? need to prepare you.”

you whimper, capturing his mouth in another sloppy kiss and nipping thoughtlessly at his lips as he settles between your legs. you can feel the heavy length of him against your hip, kept from you by his breeches, and you’re suddenly insensible with desire to see more of his skin. you tug wordlessly at the hem of his tunic, pulling it free from his trousers, and with a huff of fond amusement he separates from you to pull it over his head and toss it aside.

you drink in the exposed planes of his chest, leaning up to drag your tongue from freckle to freckle along his collarbone, and jace groans out your name in response. you follow the map of constellations down his chest, pressing kisses and gentle bites to the skin until you come to one of his nipples. hesitantly you flick your tongue out, curl it around the puckered skin just as jace had done to you earlier.

“fuck,” he hisses, fingers clenching in the sheets as his arms tremble with the strain of keeping himself steady above you.

emboldened by his response you lavish the pebbled bud with attention, switching to the other when the fancy takes you, until jace is shuddering with desire and pushing your shoulders back into the bed. he swallows your protests with a flurry of kisses as his fingers trail down your chest, your abdomen until he reaches the heat between your legs. he presses a finger against you again and you arch into the touch, tossing your head back into the pillows.

“i want you so badly,” he confesses in a whisper as he sucks another bruise into your neck.

“yes,” you respond senselessly, hips bucking up to meet the slow stroke of his finger. “want you, jace, please.”

“i need to prepare you first, love,” he tells you again and you whine in displeasure. “i don’t wish to hurt you, so i need to get you ready for me.”

you’ve heard that it can hurt, what happens in bed between a man and a woman. you can’t comprehend the idea with how good you feel right now, how good he’s made you feel already, but you nod in acquiescence at jace’s stubborn expression and he beams down at you.

“that’s my good girl,” he utters affectionately, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead.

the finger that’s been sliding leisurely against you shifts, pressing inside with a familiar stretch. you’ve touched yourself before, explored what pleasure you can draw from your own body in the late of the night. you don’t know if it’s different because it’s the angle or just because it’s jace, but the feeling of his finger pumping into you is so much better than anything you’ve managed with your own clumsy digits and you moan with the pleasure of it.

“you’re so tight,” he says in amazement, burning gold eyes staring down at you worshipfully. “can’t wait to be inside you, my princess.”

you moan at his filthy words, hips bucking into his touch as he presses a second finger into you. this one pinches more, makes it almost uncomfortable until jace starts to rub slow circles over your clit with his thumb. any discomfort melts into liquid pleasure as he mouths at your neck once more, fingers crooking inside of you just so until stars burst behind your eyes.

“fuck, jacaerys—”

he shushes you softly even as his eyes gleam with smug pride. he picks up the pace, now, fucking you with his fingers as your pleasure starts to climb once more. just when you start to feel like you can’t take it anymore he slides a third finger in, the stetch burning deliciously this time, and you come apart on his fingers with a strangled moan of his name. he doesn’t relent this time, though, even when you writhe helplessly beneath him; he just chases another release for you without giving you a chance to recover, and the thrill rises so quickly it almost makes it a little hard to breathe.

“just one more,” he soothes as you whine, pressing delicate kisses to the corner of your mouth as he drives his fingers into you relentlessly. “you’re doing so well. just one more for me.”

your third climax hits you so hard your back bows up from the bed, mouth parting in a silent cry of pleasure as jace coaxes you through it before pulling his fingers from you. you ache at the loss, mewling your displeasure as your cunt clenches around nothing. he breathes a laugh at your impatience, kissing you so sweetly in such contrast to the delicious heat between you that it almost makes you weep.

with shaking hands you reach for the ties of his breaches, fumbling with the laces while he kisses you languidly. you make a triumphant little noise when you finally untie them and he smiles at you, adoring and soft and yet somehow feverishly aroused as you push the leather trousers down his hips. he helps you the rest of the way, kicking them off before returning to hover over you.

your hands brush his abdomen as you reach for him, fingers curling gently around the hard line of his cock, and he realises a shuddering breath in response. he watches you intently as you stare at his arousal, fascinated by the way your fingers barely close around the thick girth of him. he’s going to fill you so well, you realise, and you bite your lip as your core clenches again. the tip of him is leaking fluid, and you drag your hand up his cock to swipe your thumb over the head.

jace moans at the movement, so you do it again and again, watching in inflamed curiosity at the way his stomach contracts as he thrusts into your hand, the wet noise of it making you flush down to your toes as desire sparks in your core. his hand covers your own abruptly, stopping your exploration, and you pout up at him as he fixes you with a blazing stare.

“if you keep doing that, i’m not going to last,” he says, voice shaking with the weight of his desire.

“fine.”

you huff, pretending at annoyance even as you eagerly lie back and spread your legs for him. you fix him with an expectant look, raising an eyebrow, and he chuckles fondly as he settles himself between your legs once more. you’re not expecting the velvet heat of him dragging against you and you gasp at the sensation, grinding against him as he thrusts shallowly against you.

“are you ready for me, love?” he checks, cradling your face in his hands as his thumb rubs over your jaw.

you turn to press a kiss against his palm, near overwhelmed with your love and affection for this man. “yes,” you say simply, and it’s all the permission he needs as he ducks down to kiss you unhurriedly.

his head catches at your opening on the next thrust, and with the slightest shift of your hips he’s pressing inside of you. the stretch of him burns, pinches, but just as he did with his fingers, he worms his hand between your bodies to drag circles over your clit. you do your best to relax, keeping your eyes fixed on his golden stare as he slides into you, agonisingly slow.

the whole while he keeps up a litany of praise, calling you good and precious and perfect as sweat beads along his forehead. when he’s finally fully sheathed inside you he stills his movements, kisses you hard and wanting as he thumbs at your pearl, and when you’re ready you tilt your hips. the stretch of him burns, still, but in a way that sets your skin alight as you cling to his shoulders.

he moans your name like a prayer, drawing away from you until the tip of his cock catches at your entrance once more, and this time when he sinks back in your eyes roll back into your head. he feels so good, stretching and filling you so completely that you’ve no room to think, to breathe, to do anything but take it as he thrusts into you. he buries his head in your neck, resting on his forearms as he plunges into you again and again and again, and between your own choked breaths and the sounds of skin against skin, you hear him muttering in high valyrian.

“sīr sȳz syt nyke, sīr ȳrda, sīr lōz. vēttan syt nyke. ñuha dārilaros, mirre ñuhon [so good for me, so tight, so wet. made for me. my princess, all mine].”

it drives you wild, his voice and his words and hearing him speak in valyrian combined with the exquisite torture of the slow drag of his cock inside you. it’s too much, not enough, and leaves you with nothing but the need to feel as much of him as you possibly can. your hands drag up and down his back, fingernails leaving raised red lines in their wake as you seek to be as close to him as you can bear.

“more, jace, gods, please, i need—”

he cuts you off with a hard thrust, your breath punching out of your lungs as he starts to drive into you harder and faster. it’s so good, so fucking good, but still not quite enough and you whine, seeking something you’re not sure you know how to verbalise.

“whatever you need, love. i’ll give you whatever you need.”

understanding your need even when you don’t, jacaerys rears up, grips your legs and presses your knees to your chest before bearing down on you. like this he reaches so deep it hurts in the most unbearably, searingly pleasurable way. and it’s perfect, exactly what you needed, feeling him so far inside you that it soothes you and ignites you and makes you ache all at once.

“y’feel so good,” you manage to slur out, head lolling as you lose yourself to the feel of him taking you apart so expertly. “so— fuck— so deep. so good, jace, so good.”

jace groans your name, pounding into you so hard and so deep that it’s unconscionable, has your eyes rolling back into your head as your hips buck up to meet him recklessly. your peak approaches again, searing heat blazing through you as you inch closer to another climax, and all you can do is whine and moan as he fills you over and over again. he starts to lose the thread of his rhythm as you clench around him, valyrian and common tongue mixing senselessly as praise spills from his lips.

“avy jorrāelan [i love you] my perfect girl, gūrogon nyke sīr sȳrī [take me so well], can’t get enough of you, hells, i love you, ao sagon ñuhon [you’re mine], my love, my princess, my queen, ñuha ābrazȳrys [my wife].”

you come so hard you see stars, walls pulsing around jace’s cock as he curses. he thrusts sloppily into you, chasing his own release and dragging out your own as you keen, nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. he finds completion with a drawn out noise, seed spilling hot and thick inside of you as he lazily pumps his hips two, three more times before collapsing on top of you.

you press absent kisses to his temple, brushing back the sweat-soaked curls from where they’ve matted on his forehead as he shudders against you. you feel lethargic, body aching in the sweetest of ways as you fight to catch your breath. eventually the heavy weight of jace on top of you becomes uncomfortable and you squirm beneath him in protest. with a sigh he slides himself free of you, rolling over onto his back and wrapping an arm around you to pull you with him so that you sprawl over his chest.

you bury your smile into his neck, satisfaction settling bone-deep as his hand runs up and down your back idly. for long moments the two of simply lie together in the quiet, the only sound the rustling of the sheets and the crackle of the dying fire.

“i’ll speak to my mother and the king on the morrow,” he says into the quiet and you raise your head to look at him. he looks serious, amber eyes contemplative as he peers down at you. “i’ll not let another night pass without you as my betrothed.” he smiles at you then, a little crooked as his eyes crinkle, and without thought you reach up to press a lingering kiss to his mouth.

“i love you,” you say, eyes shining with mischief. “ñuha valzȳrys [my husband].”

jace swallows your laugh with another kiss, doing a poor job of hiding his own amusement as his smile presses to yours, and as the candles burn down you let all of your worries and doubts fade.

you love him. he loves you.

there’s nothing else that matters.

[youraverageaemondsimp]

Metanoia ;

Aemond Targaryen x Transmigrated!Strong!Reader

>> Chapter I : The Beginning.

Summary: "Be careful what you wish for" is what everyone says, you realise that you should've taken them seriously when you find yourself reincarnated as a character in the show who never existed.

WARNINGS: CANON TYPICAL INCEST, CONTAINS SPOILERS OF F&B, S1 AND S2, reader's appearance isn't described, only the fact that she is a strong, you can imagine her however you like, the picture used in the header is only to capture the feel of the story. A/N: divider credits to @cafekitsune

masterlist // next

“Jesus Christ, fuck this show, fuck everything, what the fuck is wrong with the writing?” You exclaim in annoyance after witnessing the scene that was supposed to be heavily impactful be butchered.

“That is the most anticlimactic death scene I've ever witnessed, this has to be a joke.” You furiously ramble. You decided to give House of The Dragon a try after your friend had recommended it, the show currently has released three seasons, with the fourth season in production, you thoroughly enjoyed season one and decided to binge all the seasons.

However, everything started to go downhill from season two, yet you still decided to watch for the sake of your favourite characters, daemon and aemond, only to witness the battle that was supposed to be intense and stressful get finished in the span of two minutes.

You stared at the screen, rolling your eyes in annoyance as you witnessed Aemond falling into the lake along with Vhagar, Daemon was knocked off Caraxes too and fell to his death.

They wrapped up the battle in mere moments, which made you angry as you were so hyped up to see them fight.

“Ugh, I never hated a show more than this, waste of my time, they did season one so well, what happened to rest? I did not expect this.” You sigh in frustration, feeling like you just wasted your time.

“If only… If only I ever get a chance, I'd change entire plot and script because fuck this.” You lay down on your sofa, staring at the ceiling, the show still playing in the background. You recollected the entire plot in your head, thinking of every moment in the show, trying to come up with an easy solution.

“If only they had married Jace to Helaena, it would have been peaceful.. Or at least if they had an older daughter married to Aegon or Aemond.” You mumble, but then shake your head, “What am I saying? Things still would've been complicated anyway.” You wonder in disbelief at your own words.

You yawned loudly, stretching out your limbs and blinking your eyes rapidly, your vision began to get blurry and you sighed in content, finally willingly wanting to sleep after you forced yourself to stay up all night to binge the series.

Your vision darkened slowly as you closed your eyelids, head spinning as you took slow breaths of air, cool breeze brushes past your cheeks and before you know it, you're slowly succumbing into slumber.

You blink your eyes open, realising you fell asleep, you sigh stirring on the soft sheets, entangling them between your legs.

Soft sheets?

Your sofa doesn't have any sheets.

You quickly blink again, taking the note of a translucent veil hanging from above, surrounding the bed you're in, creating a curtain around your bed.

Why were you in bed?

You sit up looking around, taking in your surroundings, your eyes widening in fear as you don't recognize this room at all, ancient tapestries, brown wooden furniture, and the source of light being only from the candle.

Have you been kidnapped?

You look down at your body, noticing you are in a white nightgown instead of the shorts you fell asleep in. Your heart begins to race and you panic, unable to understand where you are or how you got there. You steady your breathing, wondering if someone kidnapped you to play a role in a mediaeval film of theirs? But why would anyone do that?

The sound of metal clanking harshly against the floor and a small scream made your head turn the direction it came from, the liquid in the decanter spilling out rapidly as the person behind the fallen cutlery stood in shock.

“The princess is conscious!” She yells loudly before turning around and running out of the room in a hurry.

Princess?

Is this a prank?

You barely have any moment to think when you hear the sound of multiple footsteps coming from outside to your direction, you could almost feel the ground rumbling, noting that everyone was rushing to this room.

You push the veil to the side and stand up, getting out the bed and examining your surroundings, looking at the sigils and the paintings. All of this looked familiar somehow.

A small gasp echoed through the room, coming from the entrance, which made you turn around to take a look at who was in the room once again. Your eyes widened at the sight.

A lady with platinum blonde hair, blue eyes stood in front of you, someone who resembled Rhaenyra and next to her stood Jace and Luke breathing heavily, looking at you in shock.

Did the house of the dragon cast kidnap you to play a prank on you?

That sounds too unreasonable.

“Oh my sweet daughter!” Rhaenyra rushes over to you, embracing you tightly, tears flow down her cheeks as she peppers you with kisses “I-i i cannot believe this, you finally woke up after many years.” She sobs, you look at her questioningly. “Sister.” Jacaerys speaks up, coming to you and joining the embrace of you and Rhaenyra, Luke joins in as well.

“We missed you.” Jace says and you stare at all of them confused.

This has to be a joke.

They notice the expression on your face and their faces immediately drop, “Your grace, the princess woke up after many years, she might not be able to recognise you.” The maester chimes in, Rhaenyra nods, sniffling yet understanding your condition.

“Emma? Is this a joke?” You question, referring to the actor of Rhaenyra, “I’m not Aemma darling, she is your grandmother.” Rhaenyra corrects you. “I think she must be confusing the names of everyone due to her hazy memory.” The maester tries explaining, you sigh.

Yeah this must be a dream.

You shake your head gently and immediately slap yourself to wake yourself up.

“Ouch!” You yell in pain, cupping the cheek you slapped yourself on, Rhaenyra is mortified and the guards rush in and hold your arms back so you don't further hurt yourself.

This is not a dream.

You can’t feel pain in your dreams and you will wake up right before impact.

You look at Rhaenyra’s face, she is as real as a living person, standing right in front of you.

She looks just like Emma. of course, after all Rhaenyra is indeed played by them.

But this is not them.

She is not Emma

You can feel the vibe, it's very different.

You’ve met Emma before in costume, yet they did not give off the vibes as what Rhaenyra is giving off right now, after all, when you met them; it was just a show, but now it's your reality.

Did you die in your world?

You’ve definitely transmigrated into this show, but as who?

Did Rhaenyra ever have a daughter? You knew she didn't.

“Mirror, get me a mirror.” You ask and they look at you questioningly, your form begins to shake as the realisation is too overwhelming, there are many questions in your mind, “Please!” You cry, and immediately a servant moves and rushes over with a mirror.

Your eyes widen.

It's you.

You had not become someone else, but you remained as yourself. “What is my name?” You ask, “Y/N.” Rhaenyra replies. Your mind begins to spin, you are in another world as yourself, you have not possessed anyone else, which means your body must’ve disappeared from your world.

You try to stay calm in this situation, breathing heavily, “You are?” You ask, wanting to reconfirm, you watch as Rhaenyra's face crumples into that of a sad face, probably feeling hurt that her own daughter doesn't recognise her.

“I'm your mother, you are my eldest daughter, they—” She points at Jace, Luke and Joffrey, “—are your younger siblings.” You turn towards them.

You nod, pretending to play the part while you figure out everything. “I'm sorry, I do not remember.” You apologise and Rhaenyra shakes her head, “It is alright, you have been unconscious since the past six years, this is better than losing my daughter.” She replies.

“Six years… Did I fall unconscious after Aemond lost his eye?” You think out loud and Rhaenyra looks at you in shock, “You remember him?” She asks and you clear your throat, “It's hazy, my memory.” You answer back.

“Your grace, the event was probably traumatic for her, hence why she can remember it in parts.” The maester explains it to Rhaenyra, you mentally thank the maester for covering up for you always.

You noticed how they were all dressed up, looked as if they were about to leave but their plans were cut short, and you recognize this gown of Rhaenyra.

It was the gown she wore when she left for King's Landing, in order to settle the matter of Luke's right to driftmark. “You guys were departing somewhere?” You ask, wanting to really confirm it, “Hm? Huh, Yes, We were about to leave for King's Landing.” Jacaerys answers your question.

“Can I tag along?” You blurt the question.

“.. Tag along?” Lucerys repeats your words in confusion, your language confusing him.

“I mean to say, can I come along?” You ask the question in a proper manner, Rhaenyra shakes her head, “No- you've just woken up, you might still be weak- I cannot risk-”

“Mother! I am perfectly fine!” You cut her off, breaking free from the guards hands and running around the room, doing jumping jacks, showing her that you aren't weak and are perfectly capable of physical activity.

Rhaenyra watches in shock, seeing you move like this but she chuckles, shaking her head in comic disbelief, “I guess she has not changed after all.” The maester comments which makes Jace and Luke smile.

“Very well, Pack the princess’ belongings, and get her ready for departure, we will depart two days later.” Rhaenyra orders the maids and you smile at her.

“But mother, I do not have many dresses—”

“You do, I had them tailored every year, whenever you grew, hoping that you would wake up.” She replies softly and you just then realise how Rhaenyra loves her children.

“The maesters said that you might not ever wake up, and that your body will be stunted from growth, yet… I'm glad their predictions never came true.” She smiles gently at you, you smile back.

The maids come in with a bath as everyone leaves, some of them begin packing your belongings. You notice how your body doesn't look how a person in a coma state should be looking especially in the mediaeval times, but instead you seem to be well taken care of, treated as if you were alive.

The maids quickly finish your bath and dress you up, you have to pretend to get used to this atmosphere and era even though you're highly uncomfortable, the mere thought of having servants made you feel bad.

And with that, the night fell, you couldn't sleep thinking about how you're going to deal with everything, could you really prevent war from happening? It happens due to a misunderstanding in the show right? What if the misunderstanding doesn't occur? Your mind was filled with such thoughts through the whole night.

In King's Landing.

“My queen, Rhaenyra, has sent a letter saying that their arrival will be delayed further.” The master sums up the contents of the letter in the council room, in front of Aemond who had been called by Alicent for an urgent matter.

“Why so?” Alicent asks, furrowing her brows.

“Princess Y/N had woken up from her unconscious state.”

An ear piercing shattering sound of glass is heard through the entire room, when turned to look at the origin, It is known that Aemond had dropped the wine glass he was drinking from.

“Y/N is awake?” Aemond asks the maester.

“Yes my prince.” The maester replies.

Aemond's heart begins to pound in his chest loudly, his mind spiralling at the thought of you finally waking up all these years later.

“Please excuse me.” Aemond gets up from the chair, excusing himself from the council and leaving the room, his brain occupied with the thoughts of you.

There wasn't a day where Aemond hadn't thought of you, he would at least think about you once a day- the news of you waking up from unconsciousness made the adrenaline in his body rush.

He felt like a hungry snake that had been starved for many years who at last found a prey to feast on, he felt like a drought-stricken land finally receiving rainfall, he felt like a garden void of any flowers which started to bloom once again.

He was thrilled.

He reminisces of the fond memories you both shared, he could never ever forget them, smiling at the thought of you.

He wondered if you had changed or remained the same.

Whatever it was, he couldn't wait.

He couldn't wait to receive you.

[alicentofhightower]

being the targtower’s youngest sister would include…

pairings: platonic!alicent hightower x daughter!reader, platonic!aegon targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!helaena targaryen x sister!reader, platonic!aemond targaryen x sister!reader

synopsis: what it’s like to be the youngest daughter of the green queen.

includes: reader being the only somewhat normal targtower, i went overboard on aegon’s are we surprised, might be ooc, sorry for how short alicent’s is i wasn’t feeling much inspo for her

a/n: one of my favorite things about alicent’s dynamic with her children is that they all represent a part of her: aegon, being used for politics, helaena, her innocence that she used to have, and aemond, her rage and thirst for power. so i decided to have reader represent alicent’s devotion to her family and her “duty”. hotd is so weird abt character ages so for my sanity aegon is 20, helaena is 18, aemond is 17, and reader is 16 in this. forget daeron pls

Alicent

Alicent has incredibly complicated relationships with her children. They are mirrors of her anguish, but her blood nonetheless. She will protect you and your siblings with her life, if necessary, but she also cannot look you in the eye without a pit of guilt settling in her stomach.

She feels nauseous when Viserys has you betrothed to a Lord from the Crownlands, but apart of her is satisfied with the match, though only because it means you will be allowed to stay in the Red Keep instead of leaving her.

She is just as gentle as she is with Helaena as she is with you. You are one of the only good things that have come from her. She cherishes you. When word of your pregnancy spreads through the Keep, Alicent orders an abundance of maternity gowns for you from Myr. She will always, without fail, offer you a guiding hand when going up large sets of stairs.

By all means, she is not a perfect mother, but she does what she can. She gifts you lots of her own accessories, like the hairnet she wore during Aegon’s second nameday celebration. Helaena is her “dearest love”, and you are her “sweetness.”

Trying to include you in her own private matters is one of the only ways she can spend time with you. She takes you to the Sept with her when she can, though her eyes are always averted from you.

That is one of the other strange things you’ve noticed about your mother; she can never make eye contact with you. Perhaps it is because you are with child just as she was at your age.

When the time comes, she cannot be by your side to hold your hand while you give birth. It’s improper. But she is overjoyed that both you and your son are healthy.

— “You have done well, my sweetness,” Your mother whispers, voice soft and melancholic and warm. Grand Maester Orwyle, bless him, had propped you up on great plush pillows after you’d finished your labors. He’d quietly congratulated you and helped you get comfortable in your bed, then had left you to rest.

She sits on the edge of your mattress, right by your side, thumb gingerly tracing your cheek. The forest green she’s clad in brings out the auburn of her hair. “The babe is a beautiful one. A handsome son for the realm. I am… proud of you.”

Articulating her thoughts has never been her strong point. It is the hour of the owl now. The only sounds you can hear are the padding of raindrops against the tall windows in your chambers and the crackling of the hearth.

“Aegon’s birth came quick for me as well,” She mutters, almost to herself. Peculiarly, she clings to the little ways you are alike to one another; they are fading as the days pass by. Her brows furrow as her mind begins to race.

Your firstborn sons’ births had come with ease. You were both married off far too early in your lives. In girlhood, you had both favored naive stories of brave knights and pretty ladies and romance. You both committed yourself to duty to further the family—

She stops the list she’s making in her head there. Far more resolutely than before, as if putting a wall around herself again, she kisses your forehead and retracts into herself.

“I shall leave you be. Good night.”

Aegon

For Aegon, news of a new sibling is unsurprising. It’s the same old thing to see his mother waddling around the castle, belly swollen. He’s a little indifferent when you’re born.

As a teen, though, Aegon is certainly the type to smack you a bit too hard in the training yard and then shush you, begging for you to hit him just as hard before you wail too loud and one of your mother’s handmaidens hear and alert her of it.

It makes him feel shameful, the first time you see him drunk, stinking of the whores of Flea Bottom and sweat. You promise to not tell anyone of it, if he, in exchange, does not do it again. He still does. You still do not tell.

After the events of Driftmark, you are the one to cut his hair short. Seeing Aemond bloody and bruised had frightened you, caused you to weep in front of the crowd in the great hall, and you’d tearfully asked Aegon if you could sleep in his bed together that night. He forces you to help him trim his waves the next morning as “repayment”, though he did not actually mind it.

You grow closer as you become older. To Aegon, you are the only one who has a semblance of faith in him; your mother was constantly repulsed by him, as was your grandsire and own father. Aemond had given up on him a long, long time ago, and Helaena focused on the children far more.

On his better days, Aegon likes to fly on your dragons together. Seeing you windswept and almost free is strangely satisfying for him; he misses when you both hadn’t been burdened by what your parents had put on you. In the dead of night, he likes to imagine what life would have been like if he hadn’t been forced to marry Helaena, and you your “fat, old husband”, as he put it.

Speaking of, he’d made a great fuss at your wedding. That was the angriest he’d ever saw you; he’d drunk himself half to death at the celebration afterward, made a fool of himself when he got into a fist fight with one of your husband’s brothers. Even the bards had stopped singing to stare at the spectacle. You’d almost lost your voice that night from how loud you’d yelled at him, asking when he’d ever think of anyone but himself, cheeks flushed from deep embarrassment.

“You know of my apprehension when it comes to large events such as these, and yet you cannot steel yourself for one night for my sake? What will you do when Jaehaera is married? Light the castle aflame?”

(You do not know the reason he’d done such a thing was to make such a big scene your consummation ceremony would be an afterthought. That, and the fact he was drunk and angry.)

Some part of him feels guilty when you get pregnant. He knows, deep down, that he had no part in it, and he could not control your fate, no matter if his efforts were weak or strong. But he was still your elder brother, was he not?

One day, while you sit in a rocking chair and he plays with the twins in their nursery, you tell him, “I should like for my son to be like you.” Aegon says, quietly, that yours will be better than he ever was, with you as his mother. He vanishes back into the Street of Silk soon after that.

One of his best qualities is being able to make light of anything, and he does just that after your labors, laughing at how disheveled you are and kissing your forehead. It’s hard not to laugh with him.

Days later, at his coronation, you are the first he looks to for approval, after your mother. The subtle nod you give him makes him wonder how you would’ve reacted if he had been successful in running to Essos. He hopes neither Aemond or Cole told you of what he’d said.

After becoming king, Aegon grows to value your input more and more. On his council, he feels you are the only one to genuinely listen to his concerns and thoughts when it comes to winning the war, and so he ignores the disapproving looks the men around him give him when you come to the meetings.

He does not mention your dragon when discussing battle plans, almost seems to ignore it when Lord Jasper brings you up; your dragon is great and strong, and he knows he will have to utilize you one day, but he refuses to think of it until it’s absolutely necessary. His mind has already been spoiled by what he has seen in brothels and taverns, and he imagines it will only further be by the sights of war. Aegon will do everything he can to avoid what happened to him happening to you.

The assassins Daemon hired infiltrate the Red Keep. They kill his son, leave with his head in a sack. Aegon rages and drinks and rages. He will not allow even you to see his tears, but he cannot stop them from soaking the cloth of your dress when you hug him tenderly, as if afraid he’ll slip through your hands like sand.

Bile floods into his mouth when Otto suggests wheeling his son’s body through the city to secure the approval of the smallfolk. The image of you insisting on going instead of his mother is burned into his brain. “If you will force Helaena, then at least spare Mother and allow me to go,” You’d begged. It does nothing.

As foolish as he can be, Aegon is also not one to forget what others have done for him. You were the only one who’d taken his side against your grandfather. He is glad he was not forced to marry you, glad that he did not force you to a brothel as he did Aemond; he is glad that he has not ruined you.

Aegon’s visits to your child become less and less frequent. He loves the boy dearly, like he’s his own, but he cannot stand to look at him. It’s only a reminder of what happened to his little Jaehaerys.

Rook’s Rest destroys him. He does not even need to tell you that it was Aemond who did it, you just seem to know. There is no way for him to verbalize that he is listening to you while he is in his milk-of-the-poppy induced coma, but he does appreciate the stories you tell him while sitting at his bedside.

He specifically forbids you from looking at him while the Maesters change out his bandages, but he’ll allow you to sit on the other end of his bed with your back to him and hold his unburnt hand while they do so.

— “I feel a monster,” He admits to you one night while you light a candle on the stand next to his bed. You’re clad in a warm nightgown; many whisper that winter is coming, and it’s hard not to notice with how cold the breezes have been lately.

“Why is that?”

“You know why.”

You can’t even fight the scoff that comes from you, and you turn back to him with a frown etched deeply into your face. “You should not. You are king.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “That did not stop our cunt of a brother from burning me like the Conqueror did Harrenhal.”

Huffing, you smooth out your dress, then walk to the other side of the bed and slowly crawl on. You’re careful not to move around too much, so as to not cause him any more injury, and sit next to him, back against the headboard. You bring your knees to your chest and wrap your arms around your legs. His eyes are slightly glossy when they meet yours.

He takes a sharp breath. “…If it had been my decision, I would have named you regent.”

You laugh incredulously at that, shaking your head. “They set aside Mother for Aemond. They would have forced you to do the same.”

Aegon raises his remaining silver brow. “I am not as feeble and weak-minded as Father. I speak truly. It is you I trust the most.”

Helaena

Helaena is perhaps the least expressive out of all of your siblings, but even she felt happy when Mother’s babe had come a girl.

She does genuinely appreciate that you do not judge her and make fun of her behind her back; she has never felt like she has been able to fit in with her ladies-in-waiting.

As mature as she is, Helaena does like to indulge girlishly sometimes; she enjoys matching her gowns with you, as well as hairstyles and (light, so as to not overstimulate her) jewelry.

Observant and introspective, Helaena also has a great memory. If you tell her you’ve had a fascination with direwolves as of late, or have particularly enjoyed reading about Valyrian history, suddenly the dresses she gifts you will subtly be embroidered with subtle little wolf icons or ancient Valyrian imagery. She is very thoughtful.

Unbeknownst to most, she also gives very good advice. There have only been a handful of times her council has not helped you. Wise and empathetic, she is, and she is always willing to listen to you explain your troubles while she plays with one of her bugs.

It pains her to see you inflicted with the same fate as she was; married off to a man you had no love for, forced to be his incubator. Just as it was during Aegon’s coronation, her head is bowed at your wedding. She does not want to look at your doom.

Despite this, she is perhaps the most supportive of you during your pregnancy; she likes suggesting names for the babe as well as crafting him little clothes for him to wear when he is born.

Although you do not understand her prophecies, it does quell her anxieties a bit that you at least listen to them instead of dismissing them like all else do.

When noise gets to be too much for her, you are the first to cover her ears with your hands, guiding her to the lush gardens of the Keep to breathe. You are the only person she has a likeness of boundaries with; when she does not want to be touched, you leave her be. It’s why you are the sibling she is fondest of.

Her hand immediately flies to grasp yours when Meleys erupts from the boards at Aegon’s coronation. The look on her face had confused you. She’d appeared fearful, but simultaneously also put at ease, as if she’d known that this was going to happen.

After Blood and Cheese, she cannot find rest at night. She takes to pacing about the Red Keep, almost looking like a ghost; pale and silver and paranoid. Despite the fact that it distracts you from your own slumber, you insist on her staying in your chambers with you. She still paces, never sleeps. Some nights you even walk with her around the castle.

— “This one will not live,” She blurts out randomly, interrupting you from one of your tangents, confusing you. She never interrupts you, always listens to whatever your qualms are for the day without complaint.

“What?”

You feel like you’re about to burst; partly from the grand lamb you had for your midday meal and from how heavy the babe in your belly feels. She seems surprised that the words had actually come out of her mouth.

She pushes her face closer to the fly she has somehow managed to capture in her palm, a perturbed glint in her eye. “I do not think this one will survive.”

You decide to indulge her, tilting your head to the side from where you sit across from her, lounging on a velvet sofa. “Why is that?”

“The art of the spider is subtle. It shall trap another in its web.”

(Later that day, you can only wonder if she was speaking of Lord Vaemond after he’d been beheaded by Prince Daemon from behind.)

Aemond

Aemond can barely remember the day you were born, much less the day a celebration had been held for Mother’s pregnancy.

Alike to his siblings, Aemond is not one to forget what you did for him when you were children; how you always offered to take him on rides on your dragon before he’d claimed Vhagar, how you were the only one uninvolved in the “pink dread” incident, how you cried for him after he lost his eye.

After the loss of his eye, Aemond begins to put a wall around himself. Unfortunately, that does include you. Before Driftmark, you were closest with him, but afterward, you had slowly drifted toward Aegon; nevertheless, he shows his affection for you in his own way.

However, he does keep the little gifts you’ve given him over the years safely hidden in his chambers, away from the eyes of curious maids and servants, like the eyepatch you’d embroidered a little Vhagar in in the weeks after his eye was cut out.

When Vaemond’s head is cut off, Aemond immediately places a hand on the pommel of his sword, lest Daemon himself attack you next. When he becomes regent, he is the one who orders you to be given a sworn protector. He is the one who’d help you learn Valyrian when you struggled, even after all your lessons.

Aemond never, never shows much affection to anyone in the family publicly, but he doesn’t mind it if you place a hand on his forearm or his own hand. He prefers it if you keep things like cheek or forehead kisses private in the sanctity of your or his own room.

In his immediate family, you are perhaps the most normal of all, which does make him seek out your company the most. The mornings after he seeks out Madame Sylvi’s assistance are the mornings he spends the most time with you. The shame of it all almost eats him alive, and you are a welcome distraction.

Additionally, the one-eyed prince does genuinely appreciate how you show your devotion to the family, though of course he’d never verbalize it. Almost every training yard session he has, you sit on the balcony, embroidering a dress or two while he swings his sword at Criston’s morningstar.

Your wedding to some old Crownlands lord was a memorable one, mostly because of when Aegon had pinned your new brother-by-law to a table and began beating him senselessly. Aemond was the one who had pried him off, mercilessly tugging him by the collar of his doublet away from the man.

You become pregnant quick. Aemond says that when your son is born, he will bring him to meet Vhagar himself, stating that a “new Targaryen babe should learn the ways of his predecessors”.

As the moons pass by, the Maesters order you to bedrest. Your elder brother likes to visit during his free time, sometimes bringing a book with him to read or nothing, just to converse with you quietly. You are the only “quiet” Aemond has ever known.

When Rhaenys bursts through the boards at Aegon’s coronation, Aemond’s palm finds your wrist, gently grasping it with his long fingers.

Just as your mother does, you begin to shun Aemond after Luke’s murder. It does not make him resent you as much as it does Alicent, but it does make him spiral a bit quicker.

Many a time have you slept in Aemond or Aegon’s bed because of nightmares. The only time he’s ever slept in yours was the night Aegon had found him in the brothel with Sylvi. You had not been awake when he’d crawled into bed with you, just laying beside you and shutting his eye. He makes sure to leave before you wake. Aemond does not know that you were quite aware of his presence, but had chosen not to say anything. If Aemond of all people had decided to find sleep in your bed, something awful must’ve happened. Why take that moment of respite from him?

He knows that you know he burned Aegon, but he does not ever bring it up in a conversation with you, much less acknowledge it. However, Aemond is observant. He notices the fearful glint in your eye when he is around you, now, but this is what he has always wanted, has he not? To rule?

— Aemond is with you the morn after Blood and Cheese, standing in one of the Red Keep’s balconies as you watch the wagon carrying your mother and Helaena depart. Your eyes are sunken in from crying, cheeks swollen; you wear a veil of mourning yourself, though there is no crown settled on your head. The way you lean over the railing to peer at the ground, the way your back is hunched, the way you grieve so openly.. it does not befit a princess. It does not befit someone from the Targaryen family, someone who is supposed to use honeyed words and cunning tricks to protect themself from the environment of King’s Landing.

You sniffle. “Where were you?”

Aemond’s eye goes wide. A deep pit was already settled in his stomach, but it only seems to get worse at your questioning. Even his throat seems to tighten up, make it impossible for him to even choke out an answer.

“When news of… the boy spread,” You begin, “I went to find you myself. But you were not in your chambers, nor in the library. Where were you?”

“Patrolling.” It’s an obvious lie. He regrets it the moment it comes out of his mouth, jaw clenching immediately. There was no use in patrolling at night, when he could barely see anything. His hand unconsciously squeezes the stone railing.

He’s ready to leave with haste when you nod to yourself, face blank and detached from reality. “…I won’t tell anyone,” You mutter, just loud enough for him to hear. “Wherever you were.”

[idkyetxoxo]

Jacaerys Velaryon - Seeds of Manipulation

Summary - Aegon and Aemond tease their nephew Jace about his impending marriage to a Dornish woman. When she arrives, she faces Jace's cold indifference and his uncle's provocative questions. Realising his grave mistake, Jace must now find a way to undo the damage.

Pairing - Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell reader

Warnings - None

Word count - 2044

Masterlist for Jacaerys • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

"I hear you are to wed a Dornish woman," Aegon said with a smirk, drawing out each word with deliberate taunt. He leaned casually against the ornate chair in the dimly lit chamber, his demeanor relaxed yet his eyes alight with mischief. 

Jace stood opposite him, a mix of curiosity and unease flickering across his face.

Aemond, the younger of the two brothers, couldn't resist adding to the teasing. His voice carried a conspiratorial tone as he chimed in, "You know what they say about women from Dorne?"

"Passionate, hot-blooded, and especially open and free in their relationships," Aegon continued smoothly, his smirk widening as he sensed the growing worry in Jace's expression.

It was a performance, a theatrical dance of words meant to provoke and amuse in equal measure.

Aegon, ever the instigator, couldn't resist further stoking the flames. "Do not worry, nephew," he mockingly reassured, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "As your uncles, we will be there to guide you, to help you understand how women like that are to be tamed."

Aemond, perhaps sensing his brother's theatrical cue, stepped closer to Jace, his voice lowering to a foreboding whisper.

"Sleep well, nephew," he murmured, his tone laced with an eerie certainty. "Her arrival tomorrow will surely bring a lifetime of sleepless nights."

It was a parting shot, delivered with a dramatic flourish that left Jace momentarily speechless, contemplating what awaited him.

With that, the brothers left the chambers, satisfied with the seeds of anxiety they had planted.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

I had heard tales of the splendour and majesty of King's Landing, but nothing could have prepared me for the grandiosity of the Red Keep. Its towering walls and labyrinthine corridors seemed crafted to awe and intimidate alike.

Stepping from the carriage, the warm sun cast a golden glow over the bustling courtyard, filling me with a flutter of excitement. Today marked the occasion I would meet my betrothed, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon.

My parents were quickly ushered away to meet with his, leaving me alone with only my handmaiden by my side. Clad in flowing fabrics and jewels from my homeland, I walked through the gardens with measured steps, my feet sinking slightly into the soft, dew-kissed grass.

Near a fountain, I spotted him amidst a small group of companions who whispered and giggled among themselves. His brown locks caught the sunlight, lending him an ethereal aura as his eyes scanned the courtyard with detached interest. 

He was handsome, there was no denying it, handsome in a way that made my heart flutter despite my resolve.

Approaching, he turned his gaze towards me, his expression unreadable. "Lady Martell," he greeted with a curt nod, his voice cool and detached.

"Prince Jacaerys," I replied politely, offering a respectful curtsey. "It is an honour to finally make your acquaintance."

He gave a brief, dismissive smile before turning back to his companions. "Yes, well, I trust your journey was not too arduous."

Suppressing a frown, I replied, "It was lengthy, but I am grateful for the hospitality extended."

"Of course," he murmured, his attention already drifting away. "If you'll excuse me."

And just like that, he walked away, leaving me standing there amidst the curious gazes of his companions. I felt a pang of disappointment and confusion. He had barely acknowledged me, let alone shown any interest in getting to know me. 

Was this how our marriage was to be, a mere formality, devoid of any warmth or connection?

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

"She is quite captivating," Aemond remarked, his voice carrying across the garden where he sat under a large oak tree with Aegon and Jace. 

Their eyes followed me as I laughed with my handmaidens, the sound mingling with the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"Indeed she is," Aegon agreed casually, taking a leisurely sip from his cup. His eyes, a blend of appraisal and amusement, followed my every movement.

"The jewels, the silks, the daring cut of her dress, all promising signs, wouldn't you say?" His tone was teasing, laced with a hint of admiration for the boldness and allure that seemed to surround me.

Jace swallowed hard, feeling the weight of their words like a lead ball in his chest. He couldn't deny the truth in their observation, that I held a beauty that stirred something within him, despite his efforts to remain aloof.

Seeing me sitting there laughing among others, he felt a sudden pang of hurt pierce through him. The sound of my laughter, so carefree and genuine, contrasted sharply with the turmoil he felt inside.

He hadn't anticipated that he would regret his earlier dismissal of me so deeply. The weight of his earlier words and actions now seemed unbearably foolish as he watched me from a distance, wishing he could turn back time.

"She is rather striking," he admitted reluctantly, his voice barely above a murmur. 

Aegon and Aemond exchanged knowing glances, their smirks evident as they clapped him on the shoulder before rising to approach me.

"Prince Aegon, Prince Aemond," I greeted evenly as they seated themselves opposite me. 

Despite their jovial demeanour, I sensed an undercurrent of intent beneath their charm.

"Lady Martell, do tell us," Aegon began smoothly, his voice laced with a hint of mischief, "are all the women in Dorne as beautiful as you?"

Heat rose to my cheeks at the unabashed flattery, my eyes instinctively seeking out Jace, who watched the exchange with guarded interest.

"You flatter me, my prince," I replied coolly, masking the unease that simmered beneath my composed exterior. 

"We hear the people of Dorne are quite... free-spirited," Aemond interjected, his tone suggestive. 

The implication hung heavy in the air, and it dawned on me their words were not merely idle curiosity but a deliberate attempt to test my mettle, to gauge my reaction. I was well aware of their game now, the subtle probing, the veiled insinuations meant to unsettle and provoke.

Turning slightly to my handmaidens, I saw their heads bowed, their discomfort palpable. 

It was clear they understood the precariousness of our situation and that this was not a casual conversation but a calculated manoeuvre.

I returned my attention to Aegon and Aemond, meeting their expectant gazes with a steely resolve. 

"Indeed, Dorne is known for its spirited culture," I replied evenly, choosing my words carefully. "We value freedom and independence, traits that define our people."

Aegon's smirk widened, savouring each flicker of discomfort he caused, each slight tremor in my voice. His demeanour was unabashedly provocative, leaning forward with exaggerated interest as his eyes shamelessly roamed, causing an uncomfortable shift in my posture.

"Ah, independence," he drawled, his voice carrying a teasing edge. "Tell us, Lady Martell, how does such independence manifest itself in matters of... affection?" 

The words were loaded with innuendo, his tone challenging and amused, knowing full well the implications of his inquiry.

Aemond joined in with a low chuckle, his voice adding a darker hue to the conversation. 

"Yes, are the tales true? Do Dornish women truly embrace passion and love with such abandon?" His eyes flickered with mischievous curiosity.

Their words, laced with presumption, were a direct challenge to my dignity and honour. Anger boiled within me, but I maintained a composed facade, though barely. 

I shot a sharp glance towards Jace, silently pleading for his support, but he remained frustratingly silent, his expression betraying a mix of discomfort and indecision.

"You mistake our customs for scandalous tales," I retorted, my voice now tinged with restrained fury. "Dorne's ways are founded on respect and mutual understanding, not fodder for your amusement."

Aegon's amusement faltered, replaced by a flicker of irritation. 

"Come now, Lady Martell," he persisted, his tone more pointed. "Surely you can provide us with a glimpse into the... freedom that defines your people?"

Aemond's chuckle at his brother's words grated on my nerves, pushing me further towards the edge of my patience. 

"I will not entertain your disrespectful curiosity," I shot back, my words sharp and cutting. "Nor will I dignify your insinuations with a response."

Their smirks wavered, replaced by a tense silence that hung heavy in the air. 

Aegon and Aemond exchanged a glance, the unspoken understanding passing between them. They had expected compliance or embarrassment, not defiance.

With a curt nod of dismissal, I rose from my seat, every movement deliberate and controlled. 

"Excuse me," I said coolly, unable to hide the sharp edge in my voice. "I have matters to attend to."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and walked away briskly, the echoes of their conversation fading behind me. My steps were fueled by a mixture of anger and resolve, a determination to assert my dignity and worth in the face of their disrespect.

As I moved farther from their presence, I felt a rush of relief mingled with lingering frustration. 

They had tested me, sought to diminish me with their crude jests and probing questions but I had stood my ground, refusing to be belittled or objectified.

─── ✦⋅♡⋅✦ ───

"Lady Martell," a voice called out as I sat in the library, idly flipping through the pages of a book. 

"Prince Jacaerys," I replied with a hint of detachment, not particularly interested in whatever he had to say now.

"Please, if you will allow me a moment of your time," he pleaded softly, his tone earnest. I sighed inwardly, closing my book and reluctantly looking up to meet his gaze.

He stood before me, a conflicted expression on his face that betrayed a mix of remorse and determination. 

"I must apologize for the behaviour of my uncles," he began, his voice carrying a sincerity that caught me off guard. "Their words were out of line, and I understand if you feel offended or disrespected."

I regarded him coolly, the memory of Aegon and Aemond's probing questions still fresh in my mind. 

"They questioned not only my character but my dignity and disrespected my heritage" I stated flatly, my tone tinged with lingering frustration. "I cannot wed someone who shares those beliefs."

Jace shook his head quickly, his expression earnest as he met my gaze. 

"You misunderstand," he insisted firmly. "Their words were inappropriate and fueled by misguided jest. I do not share their views, nor do I condone their behaviour."

His words made me pause, uncertainty flickering briefly in my eyes. I had expected defensiveness or excuses, not this unexpected show of contrition from him.

"I find that hard to believe," I replied sceptically, my voice softening slightly despite myself.

He took a step closer, his sincerity palpable. 

"Lady Martell, I assure you," he continued, his voice earnest. "I hold you in the highest regard. What my uncles said does not reflect my beliefs or how I view you."

I searched his eyes for any hint of deception, but all I found was a genuine earnestness that resonated within me. Slowly, I nodded, the tension in my shoulders easing slightly. 

"Very well," I conceded quietly. "But know that I will not tolerate such disrespect in the future."

Jace nodded solemnly, his expression grave. "You have my word," he affirmed, his voice steady. "I will ensure that you are treated with the utmost respect and dignity."

With a nod of acknowledgement, I returned his gaze evenly, reassured by his pledge. As I turned back to my book, Jace remained for a moment, seemingly lost in thought.

"Lady Martell," he said finally, breaking the silence, "I hope that in time you will see the sincerity of my words. The bond we are to forge is important to me, not just politically, but personally."

His unexpected admission caught me off guard once more.

"And now," he said softly, reaching into a hidden pocket within his cloak, "a token of my sincerity." He extended his hand towards me, revealing a delicate lilac flower nestled within his palm. "I had heard that lilacs are your favourite."

I hesitated, my heart softening at the unexpected gesture. The flower was indeed my favourite. It was a small, thoughtful gesture, a glimmer of Jace's effort to bridge the gap between us.

"Thank you," I murmured sincerely, accepting the flower with a gentle touch. Its fragrance enveloped me, a subtle reminder of his genuine intentions.

He smiled softly, a hint of relief touching his features. "I hope this marks a new beginning for us, Lady Martell," he said earnestly.

I nodded, a faint smile playing on my lips. "As do I, Prince Jacaerys."

A/n - I need that dress in the image above like now 

[arabellasleopardcoat]

Muña (Aemond Targaryen x Reader)

Summary: At the start of the Dance of the Dragons, you host a familiar face. But it is not your husband who darkens your doorstep. It is his nephew.

Warnings: Daemon haunting the narrative. Smut. Body image issues, self-esteem issues. Tully! Reader (Reddish undertone hair) Implied mommy issues. Vaginal sex. Breeding kink

A/N: I got no explanation for this. Might end up writing a part 2 if this does well. Pt 2

“THERE IS a dragon at our gates.” One of your guards announces. You get up from your seat, a wave of nausea already beginning to make herself known. You would rather not face your husband. Not today. Not ever, if you are being truthful with yourself.

You have gained weight. The slim figure that you flaunted at sixteen is long gone. There is more weight in your hips and chest, a bit of softness around your middle. You know he will mock you for it.

“Open them.” You order, bracing yourself for the uncomfortable encounter. You can’t bar him entrance to what is his home too, despite him not visiting in years. “Tell him to leave the dragon there. I’ll send it some food.”

The guard bows and exits the room. One of your companions, Lady Whent, starts to pace the hall. She fears what your husband coming here might mean for you. The rumors said he had loudly proclaimed he would deal with you himself.

Your choice to keep the Riverlands out of the war effort is controversial, but predictable. Surely, no one in their right mind thought you would aid your husband install his Queen. Not even him. Not after he had left your shared home and started living in sin with her, shaming you in front of the whole realm. Yet again, no one would have called Daemon Targaryen the epitome of saneness.

You go sit on your throne, placing your embroidery aside. Your tenants are happy enough that you don’t hold court as often as the other lords. And when they are not, they still refuse to bring their problems to you unless absolutely necessary. No one wants to burden their poor lady more.

You wish they did. The days would seem less empty that way, rotting away in this castle, your house’s sigil mocking you from every corner. Family, Duty, Honor, they had promised you. None had come.

The guard comes back. You remain sitting on your throne, the one you hardly use. You intend to receive your husband from a position of power, not allow him to cower you. But when you look at the man next to the guard, your breath catches.

This man is not your husband. This man is not even one of Rhaenyra’s men.

“Lady Tully.” He says, taking a deep bow. Very respectful, which would make you doubt his relation to your husband were it not for the fact he shares his silver hair.

“Prince… Aemond.” You say, looking at his face. It’s your best guess as to his identity, considering he has a green banner and an eye patch. He wears all black, the color of House Targaryen. You stand up, and curtsy.

“My lady.”

“My husband is not here.” You say, hurriedly. It’s your first instinct. You do not want that dragon of his torching your tenants.“You are welcome to check the castle and my lands, but there is no love lost between us. I assure you I am not hiding him.”

“I know.” He answers, lips twitching into a smirk. You find nothing humorous about it, but you do not dare voice it. You do not understand what he is doing here, if not chasing after Daemon. “I understand your people… Resent him.”

“It is not our place to judge.” You say, voice firm. This man is at least ten years your junior, you will not allow him to intimidate you. No matter how he towers over you, no matter how menacing and mean his features seem. He is no Daemon Targaryen, this green boy. Your husband is the only man you had truly feared. “Only the Seven are perfect, and thus, entitled to judge others' actions.”

“Very devout.” Aemond steps closer to you, his smile widening. The way his face contorts, sharp and with too many teeth, reminds you of one of the piscivorous fishes you have seen swimming up the stream during summer. The look in their eyes is the same he sports now, right before they decide to feast on an unaware trout. “Just like us. Seems like we have a lot in common.”

You gulp. You wish you were less easy to intimidate.

“We do?”

“We do. I don’t like your husband either. The tales of his prowess have been overly exaggerated. And I do not think you are too keen on bowing to Rhaenyra, considering your marriage will be annulled.” A pair of his fingers pluck a stray curl from your up do, twirling it between his fingers. The slightly copperish undertones of it glint under the candlelight.

The threat looms in the air, uncontested by you. Both Prince Aemond and you know that Queen Rhaenyra would be dissolving your marriage as you speak, were it not for the fact that your husband and her need your lands and men for her war. Annulment in exchange for your life would be a much less cruel punishment than whatever they are cooking.

If you were a quieter woman, a less brave one, you would accept your fate. You would say your marriage had been unconsummated, that you will aid your new sovereign and your ex-husband in their war. But you won’t leave your people to their tender care. With the privileged position your lands have, they are also in the privileged position to be amongst the first to burn.

You are not so craven as to save your life in exchange for the ones of your subjects. Hence, neutrality. Hoping it will spare you. All of you.

“Do you think I want to still be married to him? After all this?” It is not enough, you see it now. With the green banner inside your hall, with the one eyed prince himself sent to rally you behind their cause. Neutrality won’t save you. You need to resist Daemon, not just sit praying he won’t attack you. The Seven know he has no such qualms.

“Perhaps we can make a widow out of you yet.” Aemond says to you, a hint of a smile making his expression turn even more menacing.

Tasting freedom on the tip of your tongue for the first time in years, you smile back.

YOU ARE on your side, Aemond thrusting into you from behind. His hand envelops your hip, greedily grasping your flesh. His other arm is under your head, serving as a pillow. For once, you are not self-conscious.

How could you be, when he had practically begged for entrance to your bed? He wanted you, and the thought of that was as thrilling as it was foreign. You hadn't broken your marriage vows ever since you took them. No man had dared voice interest, considering who your husband was.

Aemond had to convince you to get you here, and you had fumbled like a maiden every step of the way. You didn’t dare defy Daemon either. Despite your loneliness over the years, you had never taken another to your bed. No matter how tempted you had been.

When you had seen Aemond, you weren’t planning to, either. He was your good nephew, Daemon’s family. It was utterly scandalous, yet here you were.

You weren’t too sure how you had ended up into this predicament, though. One second the two of you had been making plans, your Lord Commander eager to be at his service, and the next, Aemond was crowding you against a wall and kissing you with unparalleled hunger. Your doubts had been quieted by his warm hands and eager mouth, as he forced you to writhe on his arms and try to divest him of his clothes. Perhaps he had carried you to your room then. You can’t remember, you just hope no one saw you.

“Did he fuck you like this?” He mouths at your ear, lightly biting. No matter how much you want to banish the thought of Daemon from your mind, Aemond doesn’t let you. It makes you feel guilty, breaking your self-imposed celibacy with your nephew in law, but he seems to get a secret thrill from it.

You don’t have the heart to tell him Daemon and you have only gone to bed together once. The night of your wedding.

You stay silent. His hand slides over your stomach, down to your mound. A single, long finger, slips through your folds and starts to rub circles on your pearl.

“Did my uncle ever make you peak?” Aemond asks you, still rubbing those maddening circles. You can’t think. All that is on your mind is a cloud of pleasure, warm and shameful. You shouldn’t be in bed with Daemon’s nephew. Nor should you be breaking your vows.

Aemond bites at your nape, sharply. Just like his uncle, he doesn’t take kindly to not being the center of attention.

“I asked you a question.”

“No.” You tell him, closing your eyes. Your face burns with your shame. Perhaps it is the embarrassment at your husband hating your bed so much he never visited It any longer, or perhaps it is the fact that you are breaking a vow you had really believed in. But Aemond doesn’t seem to like it, pressing soft kisses into your shoulder in an attempt to relax you.

“I'll give you one.” He promises, rubbing your pearl. His thrusting slows down, allowing the head of his member to hit deep inside you. “In my bed, you won't want for anything.”

The way he says it startles you. Dark, possessive. As if he doesn’t intend to let you go after one night, as if he intends to keep you.

“I don't belong in your bed.” You moan, trying to resist the pleasure that seems so sinful in your eyes. You clench around him despite it, not wanting him to leave your body. His free hand, the one serving as your pillow, grabs at your hair, the auburn mane as a bracelet in his pale arm. The pain of the tug only heightens your pleasure, making your body soar above the wave that threatens to crash and drag you under on the pools of hedonism.

Never before had you felt like this. In your encounter with your husband, as he huffed and puffed over you, you had only felt a quick pain and a vague feeling of shame. He had focused on his pleasure first, kicking you out of bed as soon as he was done.

But Aemond. Aemond stares at you, proud of how you unravel in his arms. He encourages you to do it, taking great delight in watching you fall apart.

“You do. With your gorgeous hair and your delicious cunt, I won't allow you to go elsewhere. You are a gift from the Mother herself.” He whispers, darkly. “I’ll worship you how you deserve, Muña.”

The last word seems to amuse him greatly, for it prompts a chuckle out of him. It’s an odd sound to hear coming from him. He seemed the kind who took himself too seriously. He licks at the shell of your ear, at your face, slobbering all over you.

It should disgust you, yet you can’t help but sigh in his arms. Surrender tastes cloyingly sweet in your mouth.

“I… Married.” You repeat, trying to get Aemond to see reason. You claw at his hands, trying to stop him from bringing you this overwhelming ecstasy that makes your body tense, and your thighs quiver. Your mind feels foggy, your wit reduced to half whimpers and softly spoken words.

“I'll wed you, and place my son on your belly.” He grins against your nape, contemplating his final triumph against Daemon. “My seed will take, where his never could. He is weak.”

“I am already married.” You repeat, a bit more firmly. Aemond laughs, rubbing at your pearl once more.

“Shhh, quiet. Quiet, Muña.” He whispers, pulling you to lie under him. He enters you in a single thrust, not giving you a moment of respite. You cry out, nails raking down his back. “I'll kill him. He is just an old man.”

You mutter something. Maybe a reply. Your lips move, incoherent, and you are screaming, the wave of pleasure finally crashing and pulling you under.

“That’s a good aunt. Squeeze your tight little cunt for me.” He grins, and you think this is it. The two of you are going to the Seven Hells.

[goddessofvalyria]

Lust & Love | Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader

Summary: Between them was always a question of lust and love. Aemond was his uncle, she was his niece and Rhaenyra and Daemon's daughter. One night, Aemond took her outside the Red Kep and they consume all the lust, love and that carnal desire that devoured them both.

TW: 18+, MINORS DNI, SMUT, She/Her pronouns, oral (f receiving), fingering, masturbation (f and m receiving) sexual tension, sex, virginity loss.

English is not my first language, be kind <3

This is my Masterlist

Words: 4,7K

Aemond Targaryen walked ahead with his usual deliberate pace, his long silver hair catching the light. His sapphire eye gleamed coldly in the dim evening, but there was a heat in the air that neither of them could ignore. Behind him followed his niece: her silver hair, inherited from her Targaryen lineage, and the dragonfire in her violet eyes marked her as a child of both Rhaenyra and Daemon. She was older now, no longer the girl he had known from his youth, and something had changed between them.

Their meeting had been brief, unspoken, yet they both knew where the night was heading.

"Why here?" she finally asked, her voice soft but strong, a sharp contrast to the noise of revelers and courtesans that surrounded them. The Street of Silk, known for its brothels and carnal pleasures, seemed an odd place for an encounter between royals. "What purpose does this serve, uncle?"

Aemond didn't turn to face her as they approached a particular brothel, its sign swinging lazily in the wind. "You question me now, after following me this far?" His voice was smooth, but it carried an edge. He paused, glancing back at her, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

She stared at him, a mixture of curiosity and caution in her gaze. For all his coldness, there was something undeniable about the way he looked at her: something that had always been there, lurking beneath the surface of their familial interactions. It was a dangerous game, and she had always been drawn to danger. Like her father, Daemon, the thrill of the forbidden, the challenge of the unknown, called to her.

"Aemond" she spoke his name with the intimacy of a secret shared only between them, stepping closer. "You think this will intimidate me? That this place will make me fear you?"

Aemond’s smirk deepened. "Intimidation? No, sweet niece" He moved swiftly, his hand reaching out to grasp her wrist gently but firmly, pulling her toward him. "But here, there are no eyes. No expectations. Just us."

Her heart raced, but she did not pull away. The air between them crackled, a palpable tension that neither of them could deny any longer. Aemond released her wrist, his fingers lingering for a moment too long before he stepped back, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"You are your mother’s daughter, and your father’s as well." He gazed at her intensely. "But here, you’re something else. What are you, niece?"

She felt a shiver run down her spine, not of fear, but of anticipation. There was no denying the pull between them, the dark, twisted attraction that had always been there. Aemond, with his singular focus and ruthlessness, had always fascinated her in a way she had never admitted aloud.

She took a step closer to him, her hand lightly brushing his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath his tunic. "I am whatever you want me to be, uncle" she whispered, her lips dangerously close to his ear, feeling the heat radiating from him.

Aemond’s breath hitched, his control slipping just for a moment. His hand moved to her waist, pulling her closer, their bodies pressed together. "I want you as you are" he breathed, his voice dark and filled with desire. "But I will have you on my terms."

"Do you think this is wrong?" he asked, his voice low, but the hunger in his tone was unmistakable.

"Yes" she whispered, her voice trembling, but she made no effort to move away. "And I'd love to do everything you want."

The air in the brothel was thick with the scent of incense and lust, a place of secrets and indulgence, where even the noblest of bloodlines could lose themselves in the shadows. The Street of Silk hummed with laughter and pleasure, but inside, it was quieter, more intimate.

Aemond pushed open the heavy wooden door, his niece at his side. The brothel's dim lanterns cast a warm, amber glow over their silver hair. Madame Sylvie, the proprietress of the establishment, appeared from behind the velvet curtain, her eyes sharp as they fell upon the two royals.

Aemond didn’t hesitate. "A chamber" he said coolly, his voice authoritative as always. There was no request in his tone, just a command.

Madame Sylvie smiled knowingly, nodding toward the staircase that led to the more private rooms above. "Of course, my prince. Follow me." She gestured gracefully, her eyes briefly flicking to the young woman by Aemond’s side, recognizing the unmistakable dragonblood in her.

His niece said nothing as they followed Sylvie up the narrow stairs, her heart pounding, her steps slow with anticipation. The walls seemed to close in, a mixture of heat and tension rising between them with each step. She had followed him here willingly, but the deeper they went into this place, the more the reality of what might happen pressed down on her.

They reached a chamber, its door creaking open as Sylvie stepped aside. "Enjoy yourselves" she said with a sly smile before retreating, leaving them alone in the quiet room.

The chamber was simple but decadent in its own way: a large bed covered in deep red sheets, adorned with candles, and thick curtains that would shut out the world.

"Why here?" she asked again, her voice softer now, no longer the confident challenge it had been outside. She couldn’t tear her gaze from him, the way he stood there, perfectly composed, as if he had planned every moment of this night.

Aemond turned to her slowly, his eye dark and piercing. "Because here..." he said, his voice low and thick with intent. "There are no masks. No pretense. Just you… and me." He took a step closer, and she felt her breath catch.

Without another word, he reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face upward to meet his gaze. His thumb brushed her lower lip, lingering there for a moment as if testing the boundaries of restraint. Then, with the same deliberate slowness, he leaned down and kissed her: hard, possessive, and full of the desire that had simmered between them for so long.

She gasped against his mouth, her body responding before her mind could catch up. His kiss deepened, and with it came a hunger that had been barely contained. His hand tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as her body pressed against his, the heat between them undeniable.

When he pulled away, her lips were swollen from his kiss, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she struggled to catch her breath. His smirk returned, dark and full of promise.

"Undress" he commanded, his voice soft yet unyielding.

She hesitated, just for a heartbeat, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. But she knew this was a game they had both been playing for longer than either would admit. Slowly, with trembling hands, she began to untie the laces of her dress, her movements deliberate, knowing his eye never left her.

Aemond stepped back slightly, leaning against the wall, watching her as she revealed more of her pale skin with every movement. His gaze burned into her, making her skin tingle under its intensity.

When her dress finally pooled at her feet, she stood before him in nothing but her smallclothes, her body exposed to the cool air of the chamber. He let his eye roam over her, a long, lingering look that sent a shiver down her spine.

"All of it, sweet niece" he said, his voice a low growl now, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a blade.

She did as he asked, her heart racing, stripping away the final barriers between them. When she stood completely bare before him, she felt vulnerable—but also powerful, the weight of his desire palpable in the air between them.

Aemond pushed away from the wall and crossed the room to her in two swift strides. He didn’t touch her, not yet. Instead, he circled her slowly, like a predator assessing its prey. His eye never left her body, his presence looming, dark, and dangerous.

"Do you know how long I’ve wanted this?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper but filled with dark intent. He stood behind her now, so close she could feel the heat of his body. His breath brushed the back of her neck, sending another shiver through her.

She couldn’t speak, couldn’t trust herself to find the words. The tension between them was so thick, it was suffocating. All she could do was nod, her chest tight with anticipation.

"Good" he whispered, his lips brushing the shell of her ear before he stepped away again, his touch just out of reach, teasing her. "Now, lie on the bed."

Her body moved without thought, obeying him as if some unspoken force drew her into submission. She climbed onto the bed, her bare skin sinking into the soft sheets as she settled onto her back, watching him through half-lidded eyes.

Aemond stood at the foot of the bed, his gaze roaming over her with a look of dark satisfaction. "Beautiful" he murmured, his voice filled with something almost reverent. "My perfect little niece."

Slowly, he began to unfasten his clothes, his movements deliberate, as though savoring the moment. His lean, muscular frame was revealed inch by inch. And yet, his movements now were controlled, calculated, as if he were savoring the tension, drawing it out for as long as possible.

He climbed onto the bed, hovering over her without touching, his breath warm against her lips as he whispered: "Tonight, you belong to me."

The air inside the chamber felt heavier now, thick with anticipation as Aemond Targaryen stood before her, his gaze dark and unrelenting. His niece, bare and vulnerable, lay on the bed, her skin glowing in the dim candlelight. There was no escape from the intensity that charged the room between them, nor did she want one.

Aemond leaned over her, his silver hair falling forward as he brought his lips down to hers again. His kiss was slow this time, teasing, coaxing a soft gasp from her lips as his tongue gently parted them. He tasted her deeply, savoring her, his hands staying just out of reach, refusing to touch her even as her body yearned for it. She arched toward him instinctively, but he pulled back, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, then her jaw, moving down to the sensitive skin of her neck.

"Tonight" he murmured against her skin, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down her spine. "You'll learn to please yourself."

Her breath hitched as he hovered over her, his lips ghosting over her collarbone, her body trembling beneath him. His words sank into her, and her pulse quickened, a flush spreading across her cheeks. She swallowed, her throat tight with the weight of his gaze, feeling both nervous and excited about what was to come.

Aemond's hand finally moved to hers, his long fingers wrapping around her wrist, guiding her trembling hand down to her own body. He paused for a moment, his eye watching her closely, as if waiting to see if she would resist. But she didn’t. She wanted to follow his lead, wanted to know what this dark game of his would bring.

"Open your legs and touch yourself for me" he commanded softly, his voice a mix of patience and desire.

"How?" she asked innocently.

"Two fingers" he explained. "Little circles on this little bundle of nerves that is placed here" he grabbed her hand and took between her thighs, her fingers touching a soft pearl. "This is your clit."

She blushed. "Now, slowly...push your fingers between your wet folds." he smirked. "Feel what I have felt watching you all these years. Learn to know your own pleasure."

Her fingers trembled as they slid down her stomach, the heat of his gaze burning into her skin. "Touch yourself for me, little niece. Touch yourself and hear my voice" She bit her lip, her heart pounding in her chest as her hand slipped lower, between her thighs.

"I touch myself every night before sleeping, thinking about you, your lips, your touch, how you'll be perfect in my bed"

The touch was tentative at first, her fingers grazing lightly over her wet folds. A soft whimper escaped her lips, surprising even herself. She felt her cheeks flush deeply under his intense gaze.

Aemond smirked, watching her with that same predatory gleam in his eye. "Good" he whispered, his breath hot against her ear. "Don't stop. Show me how you come undone."

His voice was like a command, and she obeyed, her fingers moving with more confidence now into her wet soaked pussy.

She felt herself grow slick with desire, her body responding to the slow, rhythmic strokes of her hand. Aemond's presence beside her, the weight of his gaze, only heightened her arousal, making every touch more electric, more forbidden.

She moaned softly, her fingers circling her sensitive clit, her hips lifting off the bed as waves of pleasure rippled through her. Aemond leaned closer, his lips brushing the side of her neck, his breath hot and steady as he whispered into her ear, guiding her.

"That’s it" he murmured. "Don’t stop. Keep going. Faster."

Her fingers moved quicker in her wet cunt, her breaths coming in short gasps now as the pleasure built inside her, coiling tighter with every movement. She was lost in it, lost in the intensity of the moment, lost in the way her own body responded to the touch, to the sounds of his voice in her ear. "My sweet niece, my little niece..." he whispered. "My little princess who gives pleasure to his uncle's command, such a dirty girl".

Aemond leaned down, kissing her shoulder and tracing a trail of wet kisses until he took one of her nipples between his lips. He sucked it to make it more sensitive and under her soft lips, it immediately hardened. She swelled his fingers deeper and began to go against her with his pelvis. Aemond continued to suck her nipple and with his other hand to stimulate the other. She arched her back, feeling full. His fingers felt good, sliding from her soaking folds in and out making obscene noises and the prince felt his erection growing between his legs.

Gods, how he wanted to fuck her, ruin the daughter of Daemon and Rhaenyra, about whom he had always had little fantasies. Between them it had always been like this: looks, provocations, but everything had reached the limit when two nights before she had joined him in the library and kissed him whispering to possess her.

He had taken the challenge and brought her there, where he could ruin her without anyone to disturb them.

Now there they were, she under him pleasuring herself by masturbating and him sucking her nipple. Both naked, hot and horny.

The tension in her belly tightened, the heat spreading throughout her body until finally—she came, her body shaking, her moans filling the small chamber.

"Uncle..." she gasped. "You did amazing, little niece."

Aemond’s eye darkened with satisfaction as he watched her fall apart, her fingers slowing as the waves of her orgasm washed over her. For a moment, she lay there, her chest heaving, her mind spinning in the aftermath of her release.

But Aemond wasn’t finished.

He lowered himself down onto the bed, his hands firm on her thighs as he parted them further, his gaze locked onto hers. There was something primal in the way he looked at her now, something dark and hungry that made her heart race all over again.

"Now" he said, his voice deep, full of dark promise, "I will show you how a man pleases a woman."

Her breath hitched as Aemond settled between her legs, his strong hands gripping her thighs to keep them apart. He held her gaze for a long, charged moment before his head dipped down, his lips brushing the inside of her thigh, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin.

She gasped, her body still sensitive from her release, but the anticipation building inside her all over again. Aemond took his time, his mouth moving closer to her core, his breath hot against her slick folds, teasing her, drawing out the moment. She writhed beneath him, her body aching for more, but he was in no hurry.

When his tongue finally found her, it was slow, deliberate. He licked her softly at first, tasting her, savoring the heat and wetness that remained from her earlier release.

She moaned, her hands gripping the sheets as her body reacted to his touch, her hips lifting off the bed, but Aemond’s grip on her thighs was firm, holding her in place.

Aemond devoured her and licked her like a hungry man, tongue fucking her hole and tasting that sweet, sticky, white juice. She moaned, arched her back and put a hand between her legs and began to stimulate her clit.

He teased her with long, slow strokes of his tongue, his movements controlled and precise, building her pleasure again but never letting her reach the peak too quickly. Every time she edged closer to release, he would pull back slightly, making her wait, drawing out the tension until it became almost unbearable.

"Aemond" she gasped, her voice trembling, her body aching for release.

She kept stimulating her clit, he kept licking her and that combination was deadly for her. She felt her nipples harden again, her beloved uncle's tongue between things and again that strange sensation.

He smirked against her skin, his tongue circling her clit slowly before he pulled back just enough to speak. "Not yet" he whispered. "You cum when I say."

She whimpered, the heat inside her coiling tighter, her body desperate for more. Aemond, satisfied with her obedience, finally relented, his tongue pressing harder against her, faster now, his lips sucking at her sensitive bundle of nerves as his fingers gripped her thighs tighter, holding her still.

Her head fell back against the pillows, her moans louder now, her body trembling with the intensity of the sensations he was giving her. The pleasure built quickly, the tight coil inside her snapping as her second orgasm crashed over her, more powerful than the first. She cried out, her body shaking, her fingers clutching the sheets as Aemond's mouth continued its work, drawing out every last wave of pleasure until she was left breathless and spent.

He lifted his head finally, his lips slick with her arousal, a satisfied, wicked smile on his face.

"You're so beautiful, aroused, wet and ruined by me." he touched her between her legs, her cunt was dripping and she was so sensitive. "You need to be fucked, I can feel it."

The air in the chamber was charged with an intoxicating mixture of lust and tension as Aemond pulled back, his lips slick with the taste of her, a dark, satisfied look in his eye. His niece lay sprawled across the bed, her body trembling from the release he had just coaxed out of her, her breath still coming in shallow gasps. But even as the aftershocks of her pleasure coursed through her, she felt something deeper stirring within—a hunger that hadn’t been sated yet.

She couldn’t take her eyes off him, the way his lean, muscular form moved with such controlled power, his silver hair falling messily around his face. There was something primal in the way he looked at her, like a predator savoring its catch. But beneath that, she could sense the same desire, the same raw need burning inside him.

"Aemond, uncle..."

Her heart pounded as she reached for him, her hands trembling slightly as they rested on his chest. His skin was hot beneath her touch, his muscles tensing under her fingers. She looked up at him, her voice breathy but filled with intent.

"Teach me" she whispered, her eyes locked onto his. "Teach me how a woman pleases a man."

Aemond’s gaze darkened at her words, a flicker of surprise crossing his face before it was quickly replaced by a smirk—a dangerous, predatory smile that sent a shiver through her. He reached out and cupped her chin, tilting her face up toward his as he leaned closer.

"You want to learn?" he asked, his voice a low rumble, full of dark promise. "Very well, my sweet niece. I will teach you."

He leaned down and kissed her deeply, his tongue sweeping into her mouth, igniting a fire that she could feel burning through her entire body. She moaned against his lips, her hands gripping his hair, pulling him closer, wanting, needing more.

Aemond's hand moved to hers, guiding her to his hard, erect, long and fat cock. Her eyes widened slightly, her breath hitching at the sight of him. Aemond’s smirk deepened as he watched her reaction, his hand gently guiding her to wrap her fingers around him, showing her how to please him.

"Like this" he murmured, his voice low and strained as her hand moved slowly up and down his length, feeling him grow even harder beneath her touch. "Don’t be afraid. I want to feel you."

She watched his face, mesmerized by the way his jaw clenched, the way his breath hitched with each movement of her hand. The power of it—knowing she could affect him like this, that she could bring him pleasure—sent a thrill through her, making her bold. She quickened her pace, her fingers tightening slightly as she stroked him, feeling his body tense under her touch.

Aemond’s grip on her wrist tightened, his breath coming in sharp gasps as he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear. "You’re learning fast" he rasped, his voice thick with desire. "But tonight, I want more than just your hand or your mouth."

Before she could respond, Aemond pushed her back onto the bed, his hands rough but careful as he spread her legs once more, his body settling between them. The weight of him pressed down on her, his skin hot against hers, their bodies aligning in a way that made her gasp with anticipation.

His lips found hers again, a searing kiss that left her dizzy, her hands roaming over the hard planes of his back, her fingers digging into his skin as he teased her entrance with the tip of his cock, not yet entering but hovering just enough to drive her mad with need.

"Do you want this?" he asked, his voice low, dangerous. His eye searched hers, waiting for her answer. "Do you want to be fucked?"

"Yes" she gasped, her nails digging into his back. "Aemond, please... uncle, fuck me."

With a slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed into her, filling her completely. She cried out, her body arching against his, the sensation of him inside her overwhelming, a mixture of pleasure and pain that left her breathless. Aemond groaned, his control slipping for a moment as he felt her tighten around him, her body trembling beneath his.

She wasn't virgin anymore.

"Look at me," Aemond whispered, grabbing her face. "You're mine."

He had ruined her, he had taken away all her purity and she… she had wanted all of this.

"So tight, hot and wet... all for me" he muttered through gritted teeth, his breath hot against her neck as he pulled back slightly, only to thrust into her again, deeper this time.

She gasped, her legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer, her fingers tangling in his hair as he set a slow, deliberate rhythm, his hips moving against hers in perfect, practiced control. Each thrust sent a shockwave of pleasure through her, building on the heat that was already simmering inside her.

Aemond’s gaze never left her, watching the way her face contorted with pleasure, the way her body responded to his every movement. "You feel perfect" he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Like you were made for me."

She moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as his thrusts became harder, faster, the pleasure building inside her, coiling tight like a spring ready to snap.

He began to thrust into her like an animal, fucking her pinned to the bed. She began to moan, feeling herself opening up on her favorite uncle's wet cock. She clung to his body, clawing at his back and leaving hickeys on his neck, Aemond buried himself deep inside her wet pussy. She had waited too long and that moment had finally come.

She could feel herself getting closer, her body trembling, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he pushed her closer to the edge.

"Aemond—" she gasped, her nails digging into his skin as she felt the tightness inside her unraveling, the pleasure crashing over her in waves.

He watched her fall apart beneath him, the sight of her coming undone pushing him closer to his own release. His thrusts grew rougher, more erratic, his control slipping as he chased his own pleasure, groaning her name as he buried himself deep inside her one last time, his body tensing as he came.

For a long moment, they lay there, tangled together in the aftermath, their bodies slick with sweat, their breathing heavy. Aemond’s forehead rested against hers, his breath warm against her lips as they both came down from the high of their release.

He looked down at her, his hand brushing a strand of hair from her face as he smirked, satisfaction evident in his gaze. "You’ve learned well" he murmured, his voice a mix of teasing and pride.

She smiled weakly, her body still trembling, her mind spinning with everything that had just happened. "With a master like you" she whispered, her voice hoarse: "How could I not?"

Aemond chuckled softly, his lips brushing hers in a slow, lingering kiss before he rolled onto his back, pulling her against him.

The night wasn’t over yet, and they both knew it.

She looked at him with perversion in her purple eyes. "Uncle," she whispered, sitting up. "I heard…" she let her gaze wander around the room. "I heard that women don't just sit on the bottom during sex," she rose to her knees, straddling his chest. "Don't you think you've learned too much tonight?" he teased.

"Let's see if I can convince you" she teased. She slowly moved her silver hair behind her back, put two fingers between her lips and sucked them. Aemond, naked and under her, remained watching her. He wanted to see the bad girl he had created. His sweet niece brought her hands to her breasts, began to touch herself and harden her nipples, began to move her hips and Aemond felt her wet pussy on his skin.

"I want to ride you, teach me" she whispered, leaning over him to kiss him with her tongue. "Teach me, uncle."

Aemond grabbed her hips, moving her to his pelvis, she licked her lips. "Lift your hips" he instructed. "And sit on it" a grin formed on his face as she lowered herself onto his cock, filling herself.

She moaned loudly, cupping her breasts with her hands, then sliding them down his toned chest. "Uncle" she moaned. "Move your hips" he murmured, feeling himself buried in her tight pussy again. His sweet niece began to move, over and over, starting to get into a rhythm.

She found herself riding him, feeling his cock buried in her, and moaning with every move. Aemond slapped her ass, making her giggle, and soon after, he moved his hand between her thighs, starting to move over her clit.

She began to pant, riding him faster, the room filled with obscene sounds again and her excitement covered his cock as he emptied himself inside. "Uncle" she whispered amused. "Tomorrow morning we return to the keep" she whispered against his lips. "And I will tell my parents what you did to me" she grabbed his face with one hand.

"So you will be forced to marry me" Aemond whispered. "And I will not have to marry any Lords or one of my brothers" she smiled wickedly.

"But perhaps… before dawn we could fuck a third time?" she asked lying on his chest.

"Do you like it? Do you like sex, mh, little niece?" Aemond asked stroking her hair.

"Only if it's you, Uncle Aemond" she murmured just before kissing him greedily and caressing softly his scar.

[writingsofwesteros]

Could you do a fic where reader is the green kids mom instead of alicent and all the kids are heavily yandere for her. And if you can put some smut between all the kids and their mommy bc they just want to worship her

AN: Hi , I hope you like it x

NSFW

“Mother,” Aemond greeted you with a press of his lips against your lips. A little bit too close to your lips but it was not as if you noticed. The servants moved around you both as the large, wooden table was set with food and drink for breaking fast. “Aemond.” You sweetly called back as he settled on the chair beside you; arm already resting on the back of it. His fingers itched to brush those thick, soft locks of yours that always smelled of vanilla. Gods, it was near mouth watering. Thankfully, the rest of the council meeting had not arrived yet and Aemond desired the alone time with his mother. “Did you rest well?” Aemond asked gently; he knew his mother had worried and hardly slept since her husband had died.

“Of course, sweet boy,” you whispered out your lie with ease and if your attention was not brought to the opening door; you would have realised your son did not believe you. The new King had seemingly moved from his bed to grace the council with his presence this morning. Still, you greeted him with the warmth and love you always had for your children. “Mother..” Aegon opened his arms to embrace you; his happiness easily written all over his face and those doe eyes. He pressed a kiss to each of your cheeks as your own arms wrapped around him with ease. “I am glad you are here,” you hummed whilst your hands moved to his tunic. He had never changed, you thought to yourself. Still, seemingly needing you to dress him.

Aegon couldn’t help the smile tugging on his lips as your hands moved up and down his side once more. “Helaena is well?” You asked of your only daughter; concern dripping in your tone. “Of course.” Aegon hummed as his hand reached for your own. “I am sure she will be here soon.” He whispered into your ear as his eyes fluttered shut at your mouth watering scent coming over him. It did nothing to calm your nerves. Nothing ever did in the days that had passed since the coronation, you thought to yourself. “Daeron will be home soon, mother.” Aemond’s voice brought you from those thoughts as you slowly turned to face him. A soft smile tugged on your lips at his words. “I am glad. He has been gone too long.” You whispered to yourself with a slight duck of your head.

“He has,” Aegon whispered; desperate for your attention to return to him as both brothers battled for you. “Did you rest well?” You sweetly asked; fingers running through Aegon’s bright locks once more as he nearly purred. He could only nod his head before resting his own against yours, whilst taking comfort in your presence once more. Aegon’s lips parted to continue his words but a flash of annoyance came over him as the door began to open. The annoyance hardly lifted from him even when it was only his sister that gracefully entered the room. “Mama,” Helaena’s voice greeted you so sweetly as you moved to reach for her; arms open as always.

Your hands brushed over those loose locks of hers; once again Helaena had decided against such braids - well, only if you were to do it. Helaena would only allow you to touch her hair, something you took great care and enjoyment in. Their arms linked together as Aegon lounged back on his chair from the top of the table without care. As much as he pretended otherwise; the sight of his family before him - even Aemond was enough to warm his heart. His fingers moved over the sphere in front of him as he never took those bright eyes of his mother. “Come, we can sit together,” you gently whispered to your sweet girl who cuddled into your side once more.

~

“Aegon…aeg, you cannot…” Your words were completely breathless as those doe eyes of yours rolled back. Still, your King ignored you as his soft mouth captured your sweet, too sensitive pretty pussy. The dream had felt so real only for you to realise it was as his tongue brushed over your clit again and again without care of your words. “Mother….” Aemond’s voice had your head falling to the side; those cheeks of yours blushing madly. His hand reached for your face; thumb stroking your soft, plump bottom lip as those eyes of his watched your every reaction. “Shhh –” He whispered out before slowly leaning in. Your noses brushed together as you caught your breath. 

“I know, it feels so good mummy,” Helaena whispered into your ear from behind; her soft voice causing shivers down your spine. Helaena’s gentle touch moved up and down your side causing goosebumps to litter your soft skin. Aegon only moaned against you without care; his tongue lapping at your wetness with hunger. Aemond’s soft lips slowly moved down your chest; pressing open mouthed kisses as the night shift began to fall from your shoulders. A moan escaped your middle son as he leaned in and hotly captured your sweet, pink nipple. Aemond began to suck as his eyes fluttered with his hand moving to your free breast to palm at.

You could not stop your actions now as you reached for Aegon’s hair; pulling him impossibly closer and the King could only purr at your action. His hand slowly moved up your stomach; pressing down in a way that had you squealing. Helaena’s hold was much stronger than you thought it would be as she kept you against her chest. Your legs began to wrap around Aegon’s head; an act he seemed to enjoy as he hummed against your pretty, creamy pussy. Your stomach easily began to tighten in anticipation at the soft touches from them all. “So beautiful our mother is,” Helaena whispered as the two boys moaned in agreement against your body.

“Please – “ You hardly knew what you were begging for as Aegon began to harshly suck on your sensitive clit. The intense pleasure was so very new to you as you whimpered; your hands reaching for anything to cling onto. Your hips began to rock without you knowing as Aegon’s hold on you only tightened. The marks in the morning would be there for you to see and remember.

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun (Part V)

Aemond Targaryen x female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 9.8 K

Warnings: Angst galore, violence, miscarriage

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4 ... Part 6 Part 7

~~

A thump at her door roused her from her sleep. She blinked tiredly, propping herself up on her elbow as she looked around the room, seeing no indication of her husband’s presence. It wasn’t unusual that he would leave as the sun rose, but she knew today was not one of his training days. 

With a groan, she stood from the bed, wiping the sleep from her eyes as she stepped towards the door. She grasped the handle and frowned as she felt resistance, unable to turn to it. 

She tried again, jiggling the handle, her movements becoming more desperate as she realized it wouldn’t budge. She banged her fist against the door, calling out to her husband, but it was no use. 

The door didn’t open. 

With a racing heart, she rushed to the hidden passage across the room, her shaking hands pushing at the wall with all her might. A hushed curse fell from her lips as it refused to give way. Something was blocking it. 

Her mind was racing frantically, no thoughts making sense as to why she was locked in her room or where her husband was. 

Raised voices from outside caught her attention and she frantically looked around the room for the dagger her husband kept, suddenly fearing that she’d need to defend herself from whatever enemy had trapped her in her chambers. 

The door abruptly slammed open, her husband stepping inside with a heated expression on his face. He gave one last scowl to the guards outside before closing the door behind him, turning to face her with a guilty look.

“What’s going on? Why was the door locked?”

“Are you alright?” He asked, stepping towards her quickly, his hands cradling her face gently, his eye greedily taking her in, noting her distress. 

“I’m fine, but I have no idea what in the seven hells is going on.” She replied heatedly, her frustration clear. 

Aemond had been furious when he learned his wife had been locked inside their chambers at the orders of his mother. He knew his mother wasn’t overly fond of his wife, but he never thought she would stoop so low. 

His face darkened as he thought over the past few minutes, the news that had been shared, the duty that now fell onto his shoulders. 

“What happened?” She asked warily, his expression making her wary. 

“My father is dead.” 

Her lips parted in surprise, a heavy weight suddenly settling over her, as it soon became harder to breathe. Her arms winded around him, hugging him tightly without a second thought. She gripped onto him as if afraid he would run.

He didn’t respond to her embrace, his arms laying limply at his side, his face devoid of all emotion, his ire for his father seeming to grow even more bitter in the wake of his death. 

“Aemond… I - are you alright?” She pulled away from the embrace to look at him, her frown growing at the sight of his passive expression.

“Of course I am.” He said tersely, causing her to flinch at his abrupt tone. “I have to find Aegon.”

His words caused fear to strike her, her eyes widening, the tension growing thick. 

“It’s happening isn’t it.” She spoke monotonously, no question in her tone, for she already knew.

“It is.” He spoke quietly, reaching for her hand. “It shouldn’t be him, but it is what my father wanted.”

Her face twisted in disbelief, the expression enough to have the brief moment of softness removed from his expression, his gaze turning hard once more, resentment building within him. 

“What? You would rather have my whore of a half-sister sit the throne and my bastard nephew to follow?”

She sighed, reaching for his hand again, but he pulled away before she could reach him. His blinding hatred for his nephews and his half-sister hardening him against the hurt that crossed her face, a moment that would have melted him and brought her into his arms only further incenting his rage.

“You would bow to the ones that tormented me my entire childhood, that took my fucking eye, that boast when they have no right-”

“Stop!” She yelled, stopping his rant, her eyes alight with an anger that was unfamiliar to him. “You know I could not care less who sits on the damned throne, but you know as well as I do who certainly does not deserve it.”

Aemond’s anger shifted, giving way to his own apprehension. The thought of the power Aegon would soon wield was not appealing to say the least. His shoulders sagged, the fight in him petering out weakly. He reached out, his hand taking hers, his silent apology for his outburst.

“It is what we must do.” He spoke, the words sounding as if he were reading from a script and not how he truly felt.

She sighed, her arms coming to wrap around herself, as if she felt she already needed to protect herself against what Aegon’s reign would ensue. Aemond sighed, fighting his temper at the sight of her complicated reaction. 

The mere thought that his own wife supported Rhaenyra’s claim was enough to boil his blood and he grit his teeth, trying to remain calm in the face of her worry. 

“You know those bastards don’t deserve the throne.”

“Would you rather a bastard or a rapist?”

All anger was gone swiftly, his face falling as a pit grew in his stomach. His gaze softened, determination sparking within him and he reached out, grasping her shoulders gently. 

“He would never touch you. You know I will protect you.”

“Even from war?”

He seemed less sure of that, his gaze floundering before dropping to the floor. He pulled away from her touch, his unease swirling with thoughts of his uncertainty, inciting his anger and he swiftly turned on his heel. 

“I will be back soon.”

With that, he was out the door, leaving her alone in their chambers. She let out a shaking breath, her mind twisting with thoughts of what was to come, dread bubbling within her, forcing her to wonder if it was only the pregnancy that was causing her nausea. 

The next hour was a whirlwind. Alicent had sent a gaggle of maids to style her, ignoring her winces as they laced her into a tight, corseted gown, as they pulled and pinned her hair to the appropriate style for her station. 

She was corralled through the Keep and it was only until she spotted Helaena that she felt she was able to relax the slightest amount, though her frown deepened as she noticed the despondent expression on Helaena’s face. She linked her arm through her good sister’s, eyeing her carefully, noting how her chest heaved with every nervous intake of air. 

“Are you alright?”

“I will be Queen.” She spoke monotonously, as if she couldn’t believe the turn of events, that she would soon hold a powerful title, something she had never longed for or dreamed of. 

She squeezed Helaena affectionately, a weak smile painting her features. 

“You will be a wonderful Queen.”

They were soon herded into a carriage to take them to the Dragon Pit for the coronation. She sat faithfully by Helaena’s side, her hand clutching hers tightly, her chest aching for the trembling she felt from her friend. 

She leaned her head back, blowing out a long breath, the unease swirling within her leaving her seconds away from demanding they stop so she could empty her stomach. She placed a protective hand over her stomach, wishing she could feel a flutter, any sign of life to comfort her in this bleak moment. 

Her eyes wandered before landing on Alicent sat at the other side of the carriage. She flinched, her eyes quickly casting down as she noticed the cold glare directed at her from her good mother. 

She knew how Alicent felt about her, she had made it perfectly clear even before she married her son. She had always put on a brave face and never let her stares of disapproval or back handed comments get under her skin, but now, on this day when their lives were to change, when a war would soon unfold because of their actions, a measly scowl seemed to strike her deeper than ever before. 

She kept her eyes locked onto her feet for the rest of the ride which was thankfully short. They were guided inside and she immediately found her husband. Aemond was already standing at the dais with his grandsire and Ser Criston, his face hardened like the visage of a statue. 

He held his hand out to her as she approached, his eyes posing a silent question. As his gaze drifted to her stomach, she knew he was pondering about the babe more than he was her own state of mind and she sighed, giving him a slight nod. Aemond let his hand drop from hers, his face shifting back into a mask of indifference as the group of them took their places as the dutiful royal family and the confused crowds of citizens were pushed into the grand hall like cattle. 

“Best behavior everyone.” Alicent whispered to them, her eyes lingering on the Island girl for a moment longer than the rest, her gaze darkening slightly in warning. 

She had to hold back a scoff. To think she was the one to be under warning for her actions on this day. As if she were the one starting a war. 

Her nausea grew as the soldiers lined up, their swords held high in respect for a man who didn’t deserve it as he marched his way forward, his face dark and dreary. She didn’t know what was worse, giving Aegon the crown or forcing it upon his head when he didn’t even want it. Her eyes shifted to her husband at her side, imagining it was him, walking up the steps to receive the great honor. 

He would be better than Aegon. He would be better than Rhaenyra. 

Her eyes fell back to the crowd, a shiver running down her spine as she forced the thoughts from her head. 

The energy in the room shifted as the crown was placed on Aegon’s head. The murmurs of confusion, the shock at the news of the King’s death was replaced by the excitement of the crowd, of the idea of a new, male, ruler. 

Aegon turned to his mother who bowed dutifully, her face not a mask of relief as one would expect someone whose years of plotting had finally been rewarded, but that of wavering submission, as if the reality of her actions, the consequences that would soon unfold were finally catching up to her. 

Otto bowed to his grandson, a smarmy smile of victory on his face. 

Aegon’s eyes fell down the line, Helaena automatically bowing to her husband, her eyes slightly vacant, as if she were forcing her mind to be anywhere but the present. 

Aemond nodded stiffly, his own stomach twisting slightly as he thought of what his brother would be capable of now that there was no one to hold him back any longer. 

Aegon’s gaze shifted, a sickly satisfied grin growing as he met her hardened stare. 

She hesitated for a few seconds, her eyes looking at the man she despised, the man who now held unlimited power. She stiffened as his gaze darkened, making note of her hesitation, and she breathed deeply, bowing her head weakly, no further than she needed to.

She didn’t need him gaining any grandeur perceptions about the respect she had for him, of which there was none. 

A hand slithered into hers and her breath hitched, her eyes subtly finding her husband at her side. He remained looking forward, surveying the crowd, but his hand squeezed hers, conveying his relief, his thanks that she had put her feelings for his brother aside to not cause any conflict. 

She let out a long breath, the noise of the crowd deafening as they applauded their new King. She wondered if any of them knew even a sliver of his true nature, if they would be cheering as they were if they had seen the many maids flee from his chambers with tears in their eyes and blood running down their thighs. 

Her dark thoughts were interrupted as the floor before them crumbled, the cheers suddenly turning to screams of terror. 

Before her eyes could even widen in shock, she was pushed back. Her breath was stolen from her as arms encircled her tightly, Aemond’s body wrapped around hers, shielding her and their unborn child from the debris that flew. His hand on the back of her head held her to his chest, his heart racing beneath her ear. 

Her heart raced in a way it never had before, the rapid rhythm startling her. She stood frozen, incapacitated by shock as Aemond pulled away, his hands latching onto hers, his gaze frantically searching every inch of her, ensuring there was no harm done. 

He placed his hand on her stomach, his brows furrowed, as if in pain, as if the mere thought of a threat against their growing child was enough to bring him to his knees. 

“Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, her eyes wide with fear, placing a hand over her chest that heaved for breath. 

He eyed her carefully, his hands holding her tightly. It wasn’t until he saw her take in a deep breath that he let himself detach from her. His expression soon turned dark, his hand moving to the sword at his hip to meet the enemy that dared threaten his family.  His eye widened as the dust cleared, the dragon before them taking a mighty step towards them. His stiff body stood protectively in front of her, his gaze locked onto the beast, his arm keeping his wife behind him. 

“Aemond-”

“It’s alright.” He soothed her, though it was anything but convincing with how tense his voice sounded. 

She eyed the dragon from over her husband’s shoulder and quickly reached out, grabbing onto Helaena’s sleeve and pulling her back into her side, wrapping her arm around her, though her friend didn’t look scared. She looked at the dragon before them with wonder, a small smile playing on her lips. 

She briefly wondered if the thought of being burned alive was more enticing to her than becoming Queen to her villainous husband of a King. 

The bone rattling roar directed at them shook the walls of the Pit. Aemond’s grip tightened on her arm, as if his final act of comfort, his only way to say goodbye to her. 

Her forehead rested on his strong back, her breath leaving her in quivering pants, bracing herself for the fire that would end them all. 

But it never came. 

With one last final roar, Meleys and her fierce rider, the Princess Rhaenys, gave a final look of resolve to the family before her and pulled on the reins of her dragon, turning away from them. With a spread of her wings, Meleys glided out of the building, Rhaenys finally free from the clutches of Alicent and Otto. 

The cries of the wounded and grieving were all that were left. 

Time seemed to speed, she was barely able to comprehend what had happened before they were all forced out of the Pit. Aemond’s arm around her waist, practically dragging her with him, was the only thing keeping her moving forward. 

Her eyes fluttered around the room, her throat growing tight at the sight of the bodies that littered the ground, crowds of people fallen to their knees with screams and cries for their dead loved ones, innocent people caught in the crossfire of a conflict that had nothing to do with them.

Her vision blurred as tears filled her eyes, the heart wrenching cries making her flinch. Aemond held her tighter in response, his pace quickening in desperation to get her away from the blood and death that lingered in their wake. 

They were deadly quiet in the carriage that brought them back to the Red Keep. 

No one spoke a word, the only sound were the wheels that jerked against the uneven stones beneath them, though it would never be enough to take away the sound of grief she had just heard that continued to ring her ears in a torturous loop. 

She was stiff as stone as they came to a stop, Aemond helping his sister out of the carriage before holding his hand out to her. Their eyes met briefly, the worry in his gaze turning her stomach, reminding her that this was real, that their brief brink with death was only the beginning.

She swallowed against the lump in her throat and grasped his hand, his hold much tighter than hers, which remained even after she found her footing.

Aemond’s arm lay sturdy around her waist as they stepped back into the Red Keep. She kept her head down as they walked, her mind a mess of worry, her hands still trembling, her adrenaline pumping through her veins in a mix of fearful derision. 

Her husband’s steps faltered slightly and she raised her head, her eyes falling onto the sight before them before Aemond could shield her. She gasped, a hand moving to cover her mouth as she stared in horror at the swinging bodies below the gate. 

Aemond’s grip on her tightened and he walked swiftly, guiding her quickly through the doors and away from the gruesome sight. 

Her gaze remained locked onto the lifeless bodies. The traitors that supported Rhaenyra’s claim. Her head turned, unable to look away from the stomach twisting sight. 

“Don’t look.” Aemond said softly, though the command did little to sway her. 

She couldn’t tear herself away from the sight, from the reminder of what defying Aegon would lead her to.

Tears welled in her eyes again, a pit of dread settling within her like lead. She instinctively placed a hand over her belly, mourning the world their child would be brought into.

~~

The family sat together at dinner that night, the room painfully silent as everyone but Otto and Aegon picked at their food inattentively. 

Only a few bites were needed before she started to feel sick again. She leaned back in her chair, placing her fork down with more force than was necessary. Aemond looked over at her, smiling sadly as he placed his hand over her stomach. 

She grit her teeth as a flash of anger coursed through her. It wasn’t the babe she was growing making her feel sick. The mangled bodies she’d seen under the debris of the dragon pit, the bodies of noble Lords hanging lingered in her mind, seemingly putting her off from ever eating again.

She didn’t know how he could be so unaffected by it all. 

“When can we expect your father’s return?” Otto’s commanding voice sounded from across the table. 

She lifted her gaze, despising the fact that his intense scrutiny was staring right back at her.

“I’m not sure. He didn’t specify his return before he left.” 

“Hopefully he will not be gone for too much longer. We cannot be without a Master of coin, especially with what is sure to come. I’m sure he will not want his daughter alone during a war.” 

The thinly veiled threat in Otto’s words didn’t go unnoticed and she shifted uncomfortably in her seat. Her gaze briefly shifted to Aemond who looked just as unnerved by the turn of the conversation. Aemond’s look of apprehension was enough to have her own nerves alight with fear.

To think he considered her alone, even with her husband by her side, told her everything about how he viewed her marriage, where he believed his grandson’s loyalties lay.

The thought of those hanging bodies came back to her in an instant and she suddenly felt too sick to hold his gaze. 

Her father wouldn’t bend to the whims of Otto Hightower. If he returned, it would only be a matter of time before he was forced to the noose. 

The thought made her already frayed nerves twist even further, as if a fist was clenching tighter around her heart. 

Dinner passed as tensely as it began, with little words spared amongst the family. 

Even Aemond remained quiet as they found themselves back in their chambers. He had taken his usual spot on the couch by the hearth, his expression indecipherable. She sat at his side, her gaze drifting to him occasionally, unease growing within her the longer she was unable to make out what he was feeling. 

“I should write to my father.” She finally broke the tense silence between them. “He should know about Viserys.”

“You should write to your father.” Aemond affirmed stiffly, his eyes locked onto the fire. “Tell him not to come back.”

Her head snapped up, her widened eyes looking to her husband in disbelief, fear overtaking every ounce of her senses. 

“He will not fight for Rhaenyra’s cause.” 

“No, he will not fight for any cause.” Aemond knew of Ixtal’s history and his good father was too great a man to change the laws of his land for a war of succession that had nothing to do with him. “That will be enough for my Grandsire.”

Her breath caught in her throat, tears brimming in her eyes at the insinuation. Despite the terror that flowed through her veins, loneliness crept forward. Without her father, she scarcely had anyone in her corner. 

Aemond and Helaena were the only ones she had and she hardly felt as though they were in any state to provide comfort as they approached the brink of a family war. 

“Am I in danger here?” She choked out. 

The indifferent air around Aemond shattered in an instant. He was on his feet, moving towards her in a second. He kneeled before her, taking her hands in his, his face softer than she had seen it all day. 

“I would never let anyone hurt you.”

His words, which should have been comforting, only made more tears fall from her eyes. 

As Aemond hugged her tightly, whispering assurances, she couldn’t help but feel the pit of dread in her stomach grow, hating herself for not believing his words. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Aemond or his capabilities to protect her, but she knew with the beginning of a war, there would be much out of his control. 

As her husband held her, she wondered if she, just a mere lady that by no means matched the power of the family she married into, were to be a casualty in the war of dragons.

She wondered when the next bloody domino would fall.

~~

The days passed as if everyone was holding their breath. Rhaenyra had refused Alicent’s bridge of friendship. The Blacks were not backing down. 

War was upon them. 

Their first step was to gain allies. Aemond was commanded to fly to Storm’s End to barter with Borros Baratheon to join the fight for Aegon’s cause. 

His departure left her feeling exposed, like a lonely sheep out in the herd of dragons that were frothing at the mouth. She spent most of the day secluded in their chambers, anxiously awaiting his return.

She was curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, reading her favorite book from the library, which was unsurprisingly one of the books Aemond had read to her in her first week at King’s Landing, signaling the beginning of their budding friendship. 

The rain pounded against the window, her attention caught between the words on the page and the raging storm outside. She unintentionally shivered and rubbed the small swell of her belly, thinking of her husband bearing the wicked weather outside, her worry growing tenfold once again.

It was bad enough to think of her husband out there, gaining allies for a war that could destroy them all, it was even worse to think of her husband’s grandfather who desperately wanted her husband to wed for allyship. 

Even after their marriage it was as if she didn’t exist to the cunning man. 

She continued to read for a few more minutes, the more she yawned, the closer she became to retiring for the night. 

Her peace was disrupted as her chamber doors swung open forcefully, startling her. She dropped her book and abruptly turned in her spot, fearful until she saw her husband stride into the room. 

She let out a long breath of relief, standing to her feet to greet him, an involuntary smile growing on her face at his safe return. 

The second her gaze met his and she noticed the drenched hair that stuck to his face did her worry begin to grow. But it was the moment she looked into his eye and saw the grief, the regret, the pure terror that radiated from him did her heart drop to her stomach.

“Aemond?” She called out quietly. 

“I- I didn’t… it was an accident. I wasn’t-” His voice was quiet, sounding more fragile than she thought she had ever heard him. 

She took a tentative step forwards and, realizing he wasn’t flinching away from her approach, continued until she was standing before him, her hands reaching up to cradle his jaw, wincing slightly as she felt his cold skin against her warm palms. 

“What happened?” 

Her heart was racing, expecting the worst, ready to hear the horrible scenario she’d been anticipating, how his grandfather had manipulated the situation to his benefit, that she’d lose him to a Baratheon girl. 

“I didn’t mean to.” He whispered, his gaze bowing to the floor, refusing to meet her eyes. 

“Aemond, what happened?” She asked, her voice holding more force, realizing he was trapped in a daze, that she wouldn’t get a straight answer unless she pushed. 

“Lucerys was there.”

Her breath caught in her throat, her fears suddenly shifting, jumping to no better conclusions. 

“I just wanted to scare him.” 

The whispered confession was enough to stop her heart. Her wide eyes watched her husband warily. She knew what he was insinuating but she didn’t want to believe it. 

“Aemond…”

“I didn’t mean to hurt him. Vhagar wouldn’t listen.” 

A shaking breath escaped her. As Aemond’s head lowered to rest on her shoulders her mind didn’t even think as she wrapped her arms around his dripping and shaking form, bringing him in close, holding him tightly, not caring as her nightgown became soaked with the rain that clung to him. 

She could feel his racing heart thundering against her own chest as she hugged him, his fear causing her own to rise to the surface. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, the only coherent thought he was able to grab in his turmoil. No matter what satisfaction or revenge he felt he was able to gain from Vhagar’s brutal attack, he knew what it meant, what would transpire because of his rash chase. 

A war had started, his family was in danger. 

His wife was in danger. Their child that grew within her was in danger.

No amount of revenge would make up for that. 

He would never admit it outloud, though he was sure his wife knew him well enough to tell. For the first time he could remember in years, he was scared. 

That night, as his wife lay sleeping beside him, he lay wide awake, his heart continuing its racing rhythm. His hand lay on her stomach, the smallest growing bump revealing the sign of life that lay inside. 

He let out a shaking breath, his fingers gently caressing the skin that protected their child. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, the guilt overwhelming him. His child would be born into war, their safety threatened before they could even draw breath and it was because of him.

~~

Rhaenyra wiped her tears, her blank stare remaining on the flames of the hearth as her grief tore her heart inside out. 

“We have to act soon.” 

Daemon’s voice cut through her haze and she looked over at him with a deep frown.

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t let those Green cunts think they’ve gotten away with this. We need retribution.”

He skirted around what he truly wanted to say. He knew Rhaenyra would never agree to a slaughter but he hoped her grief would be enough to force her hand, to finally take a stand in the war. 

“What do you propose we do?”

“We cannot risk going after Aemond. He rides the biggest dragon, he knows the blade well, he could fight off anyone we send to him.”

“So he is untouchable.”

“No.” Daemon countered quickly. “We will strike him in a different manner.”

Rhaenyra looked at her husband incredulously, confused as to what he was planning.

“Who does that one-eyed cunt love more than anything?”

Daemon’s words made her eyes widen as she sat up straighter, her body becoming stiff with dread.

“No.”

“Rhaeny-”

“No, not her.”

“His son is not born yet, there is no other way to get revenge for what he has done.”

“She has been nothing but kind to me and my family. She and her innocent babe don’t deserve to be slaughtered.”

“She married the cunt! She’s knee deep in the pit of vipers, she is not innocent. You think she’ll fight for your cause? You think she’ll be loyal to you over her own husband?” Daemon yelled, getting to his feet angrily. 

“It’s war, Rhaenyra. People fall at the hands of its brutality every day. You’ve already lost your son, what more do they need to take from you before you take a stand? Before you show them the dragon you are?”

Rhaenyra wrung her hands anxiously, thoughts of her fallen son causing tears to fall steadily down her cheeks, her grief overtaking the guilt she felt for the Ixtal girl.

“Make sure it is quick. That she does not suffer.”

~~

Aemond could tell she was more reserved than she had ever been. The fallout of Lucerys’ death had both of them fearful. He couldn’t deny the feelings of regret he hid below the surface. He wouldn’t be one to mourn the one who carved his eye out, but the apprehension he faced from the court cut him deeply, the knowledge of what he was now, turned his stomach.

A kinslayer.

He was always either passed over or looked upon hesitantly by the Lords and Ladies of the court, his cold demeanor was enough to have people side stepping out of his way, not to mention the missing eye that still, even years later, made Ladies cower in fear, disgusted by the sight of him.

After news of Storm’s End reached the court, his reputation became that of a ruthless killer. Maids actively scurried away from him, averting their fearful gazes in fear of poking the proverbial dragon, of incurring his seemingly bloodthirsty temper. 

The war about to unfold before them paled in comparison to the war raging within him. 

He couldn’t very well tell his brother their first move in this war had been a mistake, that he felt turmoil over his actions his own King was praising. He had to put on a front of a stone-cold warrior, an unrelenting soldier that stared into the face of death with no fear. 

He couldn’t tell his family, his brother, his grandfather, how wrong he felt it was. They praised his actions and he had to ignore the way he wanted to writhe in discomfort under their accolades, he had to ignore the horror on his mother’s face. 

He had to ignore the fear he had instilled in his wife, a feat that always left him feeling sick with guilt. 

They knew there would be retribution, but Aegon was refusing to accept the gravity of his actions. He wanted to bask in their triumph, however little it may be, despite the implications it had for their future. 

His stomach turned as he told his wife of the feast to be held that night, their allies gathering to celebrate and toast to the death of Lucerys Velaryon. 

She had silently turned from him, beginning to ready herself, preparing to be the dutiful wife at his side and hide how disgusted she was to play a part in this senseless conflict. 

He hated himself for putting her in this position. 

He knew she saw how much he hid his true feelings, how he had to force himself to take the praise for playing the first hand, no matter how much he regretted knocking the first chess piece down that would spark violence across the realm. 

She saw right through him and he knew it ate away at her to see him take on this role to sate his family, people who had always taken him for granted, who now saw him as nothing more than a soldier and a dragon rider. 

She could not hide her distaste for the celebration around her. She did not hold much love for Lucerys Velaryon, especially not after how he had maimed her husband, but to celebrate his death with such vigor sickened her to her stomach. 

He was only a child and it left guilt to fester within her at her participation in such an event. She looked to Aegon who was holding court effortlessly with a crowd of drunken Lords, the sight of his wide smile only deepening her scowl.

He came from a family of dragons, rode his own, yet here he was, celebrating the death of such a magnificent creature. 

She stared down at the plate of food in front of her, knowing it was more than her ever-changing pregnancy cravings that left her without desire to touch an ounce of it. 

“Darling?” The voice at her side broke her out of her stupor and she turned her attention to her husband who was eyeing her worriedly. “Are you alright?”

“I don’t have much of an appetite.” She explained simply, though she knew Aemond knew her better and would see through such a flimsy excuse. She knew he didn’t believe her as his gaze lingered thoughtfully. 

“Love, you should-”

Raucous jeers cut off his concerns, the crowd swarming a jeering Aegon becoming louder and more riotous as more Lords joined in. 

She watched, barely able to hide her disgust as they cheered for the death of a child, for the beginning of a war that would surely kill thousands. She caught the cheered cries of ‘the bastard is dead’ and knew she would soon reach her breaking point.

She thought of Rhaenyra. She wasn’t overly fond of her as she used to be as a child, but the thought of the torment she was enduring with the loss of her child made her insides twist.  

She pushed her chair out, the offending sound of the legs on the floor below her abruptly catching Aemond’s attention, who immediately stood as she did, his hand finding the small of her back. 

“Are you alright? Are you feeling unwell?” He asked worriedly, the concern she saw in his eye enough to have the lump that was already growing in her throat threaten to steal her breath. 

Her sorrowful eyes met Aemond’s, his breath catching in his throat when he saw the discomfort in her gaze. 

“I can’t be here.” She breathed out and quickly removed herself from his hold, quick enough to avoid the gentle hand that moved to caress her barely there bump as he did every time she parted from his side. Her gait was quick as she weaved through the crowds, anxious to leave the hall as quickly as she could.

He watched her leave, the guilt bubbling within him yet again. He had only taken one step before his grandsire’s authoritative voice sounded, the harsh call of his name all the warning Aemond needed. 

He grit his teeth, anguish overtaking him as he realized he couldn’t leave. 

He was left to stare defeatedly at the doors, long after she had walked through them, until he finally sank into his chair, his gaze lowered to his fingers that traced the intricate designs on the goblet of wine in front of him. 

He did this. 

He started the war that would put his entire family in danger. His actions were what caused his wife to look at him with apprehension, what caused the dreaded looks of fear his way, what caused this entire celebration he knew revolted her. 

He was the reason she had to leave. No one but him caused this. 

Back in their chamber, she sat at her vanity, brushing her hair, her stomach twisting and turning. She had dismissed her maid for the night, though she knew with the worried look that crossed the young girl’s face it wouldn’t be long until she was checked on again. 

She sighed, the sick feeling lingering as she rose to her feet, the ache in her body leaving her desperate for her bed. 

She just hoped she was asleep before Aemond returned. She couldn’t stand to see him look so upset. 

A sound from across the room caught her attention and she turned on her heel slowly, exhaustion seeping through her as she pictured her husband following after her, dreading a fight breaking out, but she stilled, fear freezing the blood in her veins as she locked eyes with an unfamiliar man on the other side of her chambers. 

He smiled, a wicked sight that made the hairs on the back of her neck stand, the bloodthirsty hatred in his eyes causing dread to settle within her. It all suddenly clicked into place, who this man was, who sent him, why he was there. 

She knew. 

Her death was to be one of revenge.

As her breath steadily began to quicken, her eyes darted towards the closed door, but before she could make an attempt to run, he was charging forward. 

His rough hand grabbed a fistful of her hair, dragging her back into his sturdy form. The breath was knocked out of her as his arms wrapped around her tightly, trapping her arms at her sides. 

“Pretty Princess. You know better than to run.” The man crooned in ear, making her wince and flinch away from the brush of his lips against her skin. 

Her face creased in pain, a soft whimper leaving her as he tightened his grip around her and she suddenly feared her ribs would soon crack under his force. 

“Daemon said to be quick, to spare you the pain, but he didn’t tell me how pretty you’d be.” He taunted. “I think I’ll take my time with you.”

Pure terror had taken over every one of her senses, she thought of the life growing inside of her and it quickly brought tears to her eyes at the dreadful thought that her poor babe was doomed, never to reach the waiting arms of his parents who already loved him deeply. 

She squirmed against the man’s grip, struggling against his arms. He growled at her stubbornness and pushed her away from him, turning her to deliver a sturdy slap to her cheek. She lost her footing at the force of his blow, landing heavily on her front on the hard floor. 

Her eyes widened, her arms shaking as she pushed herself up, her eyes locked onto the barely there bump where her child grew. Her lip trembled, her happy future with Aemond and their child flashing before her eyes as it crumbled before her in real time. 

The man was on her quick and she screamed as she viciously kicked and clawed at him. A hearty kick to his groin was enough to subdue him long enough to allow her to get back to her feet. She moved as quickly as she could in her stunned state, managing to pull the heavy door open. 

The man was at her back just as quickly, his heavy hand slamming the door closed and seizing her frame that now seemed smaller than she could have ever conceived under his large hands. He tossed her to the side, a stunted cough forced out of her as she collided with the frame of the bed. 

Outside the room, her maid rushed forward, having heard the loud slam of the door from down the hall. Her eyes widened as she heard a crash followed by a cry of pain. She let out a shuddering breath, tears brimming in her eyes as she forced her feet to move, beginning to sprint down the hall to find help.

Another blow to her face disoriented her, the pain unlike anything she had ever felt before. She continued to struggle, realizing her death was imminent, but content to leave this world having made it entirely inconvenient for her assailant. 

It was the least she could do for the babe inside her she couldn’t save. 

The man threw her to the ground, his hate filled eyes taking her in with a greedy bloodlust she had never seen before. He gave a swift kick to her stomach, her cries fueling his demented thrill as he gave a few more for his own amusement. He kneeled before her, pulling a dagger from his belt. Her eyes widened and in one last ditch effort, thrust her hand out just as he brought the blade down.  

She screamed as the blade tore through the palm of her hand. Her entire body shook with the pain that radiated from her hand, the blood pouring out of the gruesome wound, staining the nightgown she wore. 

With her other hand, she scratched at the man’s face, her nails finding his eyes, gouging blindly, trying to disarm him anyway she could. He growled in pain, pushing more weight down, the blade still stuck in her hand forcing its way deeper, causing her to cry out, her eyes locked onto the weapon with terror as it loomed closer and closer to her.

He suddenly yanked the dagger back, another scream tearing out of her throat as the blade tore more of her skin. He swung down again and her hands gripped at his arm, stopping the blade just inches before it stuck true.

Across the Keep, the spindly maid raced into the feast, shoving her way through the crowds to get to the head table. 

Her disheveled appearance quickly caught the royals’ attention, their brows raising in indignation as she panted for breath, the picture of unseemly behavior. 

Alicent was seconds away from scolding her until the mousy girl opened her mouth.

“My Prince.. It’s… your wife… she’s-” The maid panted for breath, but her measly few words were enough for Aemond to understand and make his blood run cold. 

His eye widened with fear before darkening in realization. He stood so quickly his chair fell to the ground and the rest of his family watched, astonished, barely able to comprehend what was happening, before he was sprinting out of the room. His stomach lurched, feeling as though he was going to be sick as he ran out of the hall. 

He could hear his heart beat in his ears as he ran, the fear gripping his heart so tightly he thought it would kill him, that he would drop dead any second out of pure terror for what waited for him. 

In their shared chambers, her strength was fading, the wound in her hand throbbed, the blood that soaked her arm making her grip slick, her arms shaking as she held onto the man’s wrist, the only thing stopping him from bringing his dagger down into her heart. 

Her grip wavered, the dagger inching closer and closer as she began to lose her will to fight, her body aching, screaming at her to just give in and end the torment. 

Her chest was heaving, soft sobs leaving her lips as she began to make peace with her fate. 

As quickly as her mind had succumbed, resigned to her death, the pressure against her suddenly fell slack. 

The feeling of warmth spraying across her face made her flinch. She watched, her eyes wide and filled with terror, as the man atop her grunted in pain. His hate filled expression falling slack, blood pooling out of his mouth. 

A shuddering breath escaped her, the sight of the tip of the sword protruding from his chest causing a sob to break out of her chest. 

It was over. 

The man fell and before she knew it, strong hands were grabbing her, pulling her out from under the man who was now dead at her feet. 

She screamed in fright as she was scooped up into strong arms and she began to struggle, feebly pushing at the person holding her. 

“Shh, it’s me, my love. It’s Aemond.” His frantic voice met her ears. “It’s me. I have you, you’re safe now.” 

Tears streamed down her cheeks steadily, her breathing quick and heavy as she sobbed, her exhausted body giving up its fight as she slumped against her husband. 

Aemond let out shaking breaths, his trembling hands holding her tightly, his heart racing wildly. The terror he had felt the moment he stormed into their chambers and saw her under that man, the bloody dagger in his hands so close to her heart was enough to stop his own. 

He cradled his wife closely, pressing kisses to her hair as he whispered that she was safe over and over, though it did nothing to soothe her of the violent trembling that had overtaken her body. 

He looked down, his face twisting in agony at the sight of the brutal gash in her hand, of the blood that steadily flowed down the length of her arm, feeling sick at the thought of what that bastard had done to her. The sight of her busted lip ignited his anger all over again and he wanted nothing more than to kill that wretch a thousand times over for the hurt he caused his beloved. 

She suddenly groaned in pain, her body stiffening against him. He looked over her worriedly as she began to writhe in his arms, her pained whimpers growing louder. He was terrified, his gaze frantically searching for a life threatening wound he had missed and he soon caught sight of the growing pool of blood beneath her thighs, red blooming on the front of her nightgown. 

His stomach dropped, his throat tightening as sheer agony lanced him like a whip. 

No, not our child.

“Get a Maester!” He screamed to the guards who lingered at the door who had been taking in the scene before them with horror. 

His sight soon became blurry as tears brimmed in his eye and swiftly fell down his face. He held her tighter, his face twisting in agony as he began to cry with her. 

“I’m sorry, my love. I’m so sorry.” He choked out, his heart cracking as she wailed in his arms. Each of her cries chipping away at another piece of him. 

It was all a blur to her. 

She gripped onto his tightly as he lifted her into his arms, carrying her to the Maester’s quarters. She kept her eyes shut, as if she could block out her waking nightmare, as if she could convince herself it wasn’t real. 

As she was laid on the bed, the only thing she could make sense of was Aemond’s arms that left her, causing her fear to spike again, her cries becoming more forceful as she desperately sought out her only beacon of comfort through her blurry gaze. 

“I’m here, issa prūmia. I’m not leaving.” Aemond’s voice sounded throughout the chaos. 

A sturdy hand soon gripped hers, making her relax, knowing it was him. It felt like hours, each second passing like an eternity as she was examined and stitched up. She barely felt anything at all. 

Nothing compared to the pain in her heart. The only thing she could comprehend were the agonizing cramps that signaled her loss, the end of the life she and her husband had created, the life they already cherished. 

Aemond watched his wife intently, swallowing thickly as he noticed she didn’t even flinch as they thread the needle through her palm. He winced and even had to look away as the Maester began working on the other side of her hand, realizing the blade had gone right through. 

Once they finished with her hand, he motioned for the Maester to hand over the damp cloth he grabbed, silently telling him he would handle the next step. Thankfully, the old man handed it over without protest and stood to grab some milk of the poppy. 

Aemond began to gently dab at her split lip, wiping away the blood as carefully as he could so as to not cause her any more pain. She’d felt enough for a lifetime tonight.

A flurry behind him barely caught his attention, though he stayed looking at his wife, not bothering to acknowledge the presence of another. 

“Aemond.” His mother breathed out, horror painting her gaze as she noticed the stark red blood that stained her good daughter’s legs and gown. 

She placed a shaking hand over her mouth, realizing what it had meant, realizing what her son had just lost. 

She moved forward on weak legs, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder, who still refused to look her way, his attention focused solely on his wife who lay despondent on the bed, her glassy eyed stare vacant and tortured, signaling she was miles away in torment, reliving the attack over and over again.

Alicent felt tears brim in her eyes and when she looked down at her son and noticed the tear tracks down his cheeks she was powerless to stop her own from falling. 

Aemond watched as the Maester brought a hearty dose of milk of the poppy. His gaze stayed locked onto his wife, his hand still holding hers, his fingers caressing gentle patterns over her knuckles, his whispered reassurances the last thing she heard as her eyes fluttered closed, the medicine quickly dulling her senses. 

He watched her breathe deeply in sleep for a long moment, as if needing to watch the steady rise and fall of her chest to assure himself that she was truly here, that despite the attempt, she still lived. 

He was left in a daze, the sounds around him dimming to nothing but an unnoticeable thrum in his ears. The sound of her cries was the only thing he heard, over and over again, the memory of them haunting him, causing him to feel as though he was seconds from losing the food in his stomach. 

His mother’s words didn’t reach his ears, he was numb to her comforting hand on his shoulder. He was numb to everything but his pain. 

Someone had tried to take the greatest thing from him, they had almost taken his love from him. He couldn’t even rejoice in the fact that she was still there with him, not with the despair of the loss of their child weighing so heavily on him. 

Relief wasn’t a feeling he could allow himself to reach. 

Soon, his mother gave up trying to get through to him, leaving the room with one last tearful glance to her son whose world had just crumbled before him. Just minutes later, the Maester stood, giving a polite bow as he moved to the door, leaving the couple for the night to heal the wounds he couldn’t bandage, his parting words sending a shiver down Aemond’s spine. 

I’m sorry for your loss.

Aemond’s jaw clenched. Those words made it real. 

There was now no denying the truth. Their child was gone. They wouldn’t soon have a little babe to hold and spoil. 

Aemond thought of the little boy he had pictured since she had told him she was pregnant. To think of him gone, to never grow, to never say a word, to never be held in his arms, was too much to bear. 

His chest felt tight, his throat suddenly feeling like it was closing in on itself, preventing him from taking in a breath. His eye burned, the tears stinging like acid. His face creased in despair, bringing his hand, that was still clutched to his wife’s hand, to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as the tears began to fall again. 

A choked sob escaped him, the loss leaving him feeling as though the weight of the world was crushing him. 

He let himself cry, expelling everything he needed to, thankful his wife remained sleeping. He knew his tears would only hurt her further. She was the one whose life had been threatened, he needed to be strong for her, he needed to be the one to hold her as she broke. 

Aemond forced himself to watch over her as long as he could, eyeing her steady breaths, every one of them a salve for the horror he had witnessed while that blood soaked dagger was pointed at her. 

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but he had let his eye fall closed and drifted off to a fitful sleep as the sun began to rise. 

What seemed like only seconds later, he jerked awake, at first forgetting where he was, but the moment he felt the ache in his back, he was reminded that he was in the chair in the Maester’s solar. He remembered the attack, he remembered the blood, he remembered her cries, and he remembered their child.

I’m sorry for your loss.

The words burned him like fire and he breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stave off the pounding in his head. He shifted in the chair, wincing as his joints popped painfully from the uncomfortable position he had taken for the night. 

He rubbed his tired eye, blindly reaching out to the bed to take his wife’s hand in his yet again, but as his touch met the barren sheets of the bed, he sat up straighter, suddenly alert as he stared down at the empty bed before him with fear. 

The sight of the blood that stained sheets a lance through his heart, only propelling him deeper into fear.

Shooting up from his chair, he raced out of the room, his bewildered gaze meeting the startled expression of the guard at the door. 

“Where’s my wife?” He asked frantically.

“She left the room just a few minutes ago.” 

Aemond fumed silently, his hands clenching into fists as he fought the urge to pummel the man before him.

“And you didn’t think to follow her?” He seethed, the guard before him taking a cautious step backwards in fear of the flaming temper exploding before him. 

“The Princess seemed upset, I did not want to intrude-”

Aemond did not spare him a second look as he took off down the hall, pushing servants out of his way as he raced out of the Keep. 

He knew after last night, no one who had gone through what his wife had endured would be in their right mind. He feared what she would do, what her grieving mind would offer as solace that he was sure she so desperately was seeking. 

He slowed his pace in the middle of the courtyard, looking around frantically at the many stairs and exits she could have taken. 

He squeezed his eye shut, breathing heavily, his mind racing, the terror he was feeling yet again in such a short amount of time not allowing him to think clearly. 

Where would she go?

He wracked his mind, thinking of all their years together. He knew her better than anyone. If he couldn’t figure out where she would seek solace, then he didn’t deserve to be her husband. 

The sound of seabirds reached him through his daze and he spun on his heel, his gaze locking onto the birds that flew over the water. 

She loved the sea, she loved the waves of Ixtal. She always said they were healing. He remembered memories from his childhood, of her hand in his as they ran through the waves at the shore. 

He was running again before he could even comprehend it. 

Aemond’s chest was heaving from sprinting the entire way, his heart beat pounding in his ears as he stumbled over the rocks to get to the sandy shore. 

He almost stumbled over his own feet as his gaze fell on her figure down the coast line. 

He let out a shaking breath, muttering a breathless thank you to the Gods to see her sitting there and not floating face down in the water as his tortured mind had conjured. 

He approached her slowly, his face drawn tightly with concern as he noticed the dried tears that stained her cheeks once he was close enough. 

He said nothing as he sat himself down beside her, ignoring the feeling of the damp sand beneath him. He extended his legs, letting the waves crash against his feet, mirroring her stance. 

She didn’t make any move to acknowledge him, her gaze lingering on the horizon, the despair in her eyes never wavering. 

It broke his heart to see her in this state. The woman he loved was vibrant, she had a lust for life he always found impossible to grab yet infectious. He had never seen her light so dim and it broke something in him. 

He reached out, taking her hand in his, his silent assurance to her that he was there for her as he knew no words could ever reach what either of them felt or needed to handle their loss. 

“I want to go home.” Her weak voice choked out after a long silence. 

Aemond’s breath hitched at the sound of her so broken. He didn’t have any words, nothing he could say to comfort her. He couldn’t very well let her leave where he couldn’t follow, leaving her unprotected. 

He would die before he left her side. 

To deny her anything crushed him, but he couldn’t help but revert to selfishness. He couldn’t leave King’s Landing, not in the midst of a war and the thought of letting her leave his side wasn’t even a thought in his head. 

He wrapped his arm around her, his concern growing when he felt the chill of her skin. 

“Let’s go back to our chambers.” He spoke softly, using what little strength his drained body had left as he lifted her up to her feet, his arms holding her tightly, her guiding force to help her back in her daze. 

As they walked along the beach, beginning to make their way back to the Keep that now only held dreaded memories, he felt his eye sting again, his vision quickly becoming blurry.

He breathed deeply, holding tighter to his wife in his arms, blinking rapidly to stave off the tears that threatened to fall. 

He pushed past the feelings of grief that felt like they could drown him and put on a mask, pretending he wasn’t dying inside. 

~~

I'm sorry... the angst is only going to continue

~~

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[entitled-fangirl]

The crown.

Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

Summary: the reader must attend the coronation of her mother's usurper. At least Aemond eases the blow.

A/n: this is so short but too long to be a drabble so 🤷‍♀️

Masterlist

........................................

She stood next to Aemond. Not confident, as he was. Not nervous, as Helaena was. Not arrogant as Otto. 

She wasn't like any of them, really.

How could she be, she was a Velaryon. 

She was married to Aemond when they were both five and ten. It was Rhaenyra's idea. She wished to bridge the gap between the families. 

And the two grew to love each other well. 

But like all marriages, there came strife.

Like Aegon usurping the throne. 

So there they stood, watching as Aegon walked through the crowd to be coronated.

Aemond looked to his wife, his fingers reaching to brush hers. His voice was soft in her ear, "Please pretend to be joyful. At least give me that."

She turned her face to him, their breaths mixing. "You'd have me lie?"

He hummed. "I'll not see what happens to you if you do not. I will not allow it."

…

She opened her eyes, cringing when the light from the window blinded her. 

Giving a light yawn, she stretched and sat up in the bed. 

Aemond had already left. 

It was not uncommon. His favorite time to spar was the morning. 

She waited a while, frowning when her handmaiden never came in to help her dress. 

She stood on shaky legs and moved to the door. 

Locked. 

She shook in vigorously. "Ser Erryk?!"

No response. 

She banged her fist on the door. "Please."

She stepped back, growing frustrated. "I am locked inside!"

"Ser Erryk?"

"Aemond?"

"Please! Take me to my husband!"

She finally sighed and tried one last effort, placing her hand gently on the door, "I do not know what I have done. Please."

When nothing came, she huffed and moved to dress herself.

…

"What?" Aemond asked lowly.

"The Princess, your grace. She has been calling for you."

He shrugged. "Why? She can come to me. She knows that."

"Her door has been locked, my prince."

His gaze hardened. "You've locked her inside our chambers?"

"By the Hand's command, my prince," Ser Erryk said. His eyes held remorse. 

"Why was I not made aware of this?" Aemond growled. "She is my wife. If she is of any consequence, it should be mine! If she wishes out of her room, bring her to me."

"Yes, Prince Aemond."

…

Aemond spent the next hour holding her as she wept. 

Her grandsire gone. Her mother's right taken from her. 

And this poor girl was stuck in the midst of it all.

"You and I both know… V…Viserys did not… want this," she cried into his chest. 

He hummed in thought. "No. But it does not change its coming."

"Your family sees no reason," she sniffled.

"Hey," he warned lowly as he cupped her cheeks to force her to look at him. "Our family. You must be more Hightower than Velaryon now."

"I hold none of your mother's blood in me, Aemond."

"If you stay a Velaryon, you will not last. You are married to me. You have my name. You have my titles. You have everything."

"I have you. I shall make that enough, dear husband."

…

She felt tears form in her eyes as the crown was placed on Aegon's head. 

The crowd cheered, but she saw nothing. 

A rubble stirred through the ground and the silver hair siblings all gazed at one another in confusion.

Rhaenys and Meleys emerged from below the boards, causing a shake to move though the building. 

Gasps and screams were heard.

Aemond's eye widened, and he immediately was on guard. 

Alicent moved to Aegon, shielding him from the dragon's jaws. 

In turn, Ser Criston shifted himself between the dowager queen and Helaena, ready to interfere anywhere he needed to.

But only when Meleys turned her head did Aemond move. 

He grabbed his wife's wrist in a desperate grip, pulling her behind him as his other hand was held near his sword.

They watched as Rhaenys and Alicent stared at one another, waiting for the other to make a move first. 

Meleys reared back, preparing herself to attack.

When her great jaws opened and they believed fire would escape from it, Aemond turned completely to his wife, wrapping his arms around her waist and the other holding her head against him. He was intent on shielding her from the horrors that laid on the other side of his body.

But when a mighty roar came from the dragon instead, Aemond relaxed slightly. His hands remained, but his body was eased. 

He turned when Meleys finished. His eye met Rhaenys'. It was clear she was thinking about something. Not something, someone. 

His wife stood behind him still, her eyes peeking over his sturdy shoulders. 

Rhaenys tilted her head at the sight of the two of them, mourning the loss of Rhaeynra's daughter to the Hightowers.

And Meleys flew away.

Aemond let out a breath, pulling her head to him to kiss the crown of it. 

...........................................

[daenysx]

can i request a modern!aemond with breeding kink?

i hope i did this right, thank you for requesting ♡

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader , smut

you think of how much you like this as you pull aemond closer.

morning sex has been something he can't give up since the beginning of your relationship. a lovely part of his routine. you seem to like it, too, maybe a bit too much. you wake up before him most days, kissing him good morning. it's only 6 am, how can you be so wanting at this hour? you forget everything you think of when aemond moves his cock between your legs.

he's not sleepy, not at all. sharp mind, all focused on one thing. he holds your hands next to your head, moves gracefully on top of you. kisses pressed on your neck, your skin the softest under him so early. you move your head to meet his lips, whispering his name.

"you shouldn't be so teasing at this hour, you know?" you say. he's the devil, moving but not getting inside of you.

"you're so impatient." he says with a smirk. "we got plenty of time."

"aemond-"

he shuts you up by sucking your nipple deliciously. you lift your chest to his mouth, feeling the wetness between your legs grow. you squirm, keeping his fingers tight on yours.

"look at that." he whispers, moving his hardness on the way from your cunt to your belly. the silky liquid draws a line. "were you dreaming of something to get this wet, hmm?"

"i don't remember." you reply, sweetly. "maybe i did."

your legs find their places on his sides as he finally takes pity on both of you. sheets wrinkle under your bodies as he pushes his cock inside you. you accept him with a soft groan, it's a tight fit especially now. you'll get used to it in a few seconds, aemond lets go of your hands for you to wrap them around him.

his face stays tucked on your shoulder, lips buried to your neck. the stretch of your muscles feels nice, aemond's hair shines with the early lights of the sun as you drag your fingers through them. everything is whispered, careful not to ruin the peace of the morning. you take a deep breath when he starts moving properly.

his one hand goes to rub your clit, it's all wet, and maybe it would be too much but you feel hungry for him today. hungry for the touches and the kisses. you close your eyes to aemond's noises against your ear. he murmurs something you can't quite catch.

"so nice, just like that." he says. "taking me so well before you can open your eyes."

you rub your fingers on his neck, his shoulders are free of the tension he holds during the day. "you'd look- so pretty." he whispers. the words are messy and broken in his mouth. "pretty with my baby."

your hazy mind can't catch what he's saying. you can only hold onto him as he finds all the sensitive spots. "i can imagine- how perfect you'd be." he says as he pushes himself to hit your g-spot. he knows he'll be begging minutes later.

"right there, baby." you say as he hits again. he knows how to use his power on you. "again. please, keep doing it."

he wraps his arms around you to close any distance between you. the movements are frantic, his abs touching your belly. he dreams of things. a baby in your belly. his baby in your arms. it's a deep instinct, his rational mind knows it's not the right time but he can't help himself thinking about it when he's deep inside. the way you're pulling him doesn't help.

"i'm close." he manages to say. "let me just-"

"no." you say, going insane over his fingers on your clit. "stay. come like this."

"you shouldn't say that." do you want him to lose his control?

"i want it."

"please-"

"i said stay, aemond."

he doesn't have the strength to say anything else other than moving the way he does. he feels the drops of responsibility disappear on him. he's desperate to fill you up, so needy to see his come mixing up with yours as it leaks from you.

"will you let me come inside?" he asks, taking your earlobe gently between his teeth. "can i fill you up, hmm? can i fill you up with my baby?"

you're losing your mind over his excited voice. "yes." you say, holding onto him. "yes, yes, i will. please, you can do it."

"you know how pretty you'd look, right?" he says, he loses control over his words. "pretty with my baby, all belong to me."

"yes." you agree. "come for me." you say to his ear. he obeys.

white ropes of come cover your insides, he holds you tight on his chest. you feel yourself falling over the edge as you clench around his cock for the last time to come after him. the wetness is insane, aemond can't seem to calm down with the pleasure he gets. "my baby." he whispers to your hair. he stays inside you even after you finish.

you can finally take a normal breath a few seconds later. your tired arms stay around his body, his head on your shoulder. he knows he should pull himself out any moment but- the warmth feels so safe right now. he thinks he's not ready to leave.

when he moves himself, you keep him. "no, please, stay." you say. "we can take a shower later, before we leave. please don't move now."

"whatever you want." he says. "anything you want."

that's a good enough promise. you accept it with a kiss on his head.