#can I be her princeling | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

aereasrage · 4 months

Text

The Favorite.

summary: Alicent has always loved her youngest daughter most. Too much, perhaps. — This is intended to focus on the relationship between Alicent and daughter!reader but will eventually dive into some Jace x reader (maybe some Baela x reader too idk yet) and platonic!yan green family in the following parts.

cw: codependent mother-daughter relationship, mentions of childbirth, pregnancy, alicent is on some weird shit about her favorite child, platonic!yan!alicent

notes: reader is said to resemble alicent, as in her hair and eye color.

word count: 2.7k

When Queen Alicent ended her labors, exhausted, delirious and filled with an anticipatory dread she’d come to know was unavoidable; she heard the maester say, “a healthy princess, my queen.” She had grimaced then as the child’s cries filled the air but the babe was pushed into her limp arms which almost refused her. There, laid upon her breast, was her daughter…with features so like hers. It felt unreal, she had been prepared to bear another princeling with a smattering of fuzzy silver hair to form his crown. To remind her of whom their sire was. But as you laid against her, cooing irritably at the noise in the room and squinting at her with those eyes she knew so well, she fell in love. Weakly, in her milk of the poppy haze, she thought on the moments of her pregnancy where she’d felt so uncomfortable, so ready for the babe to leave and return her body to her. It could be said that in that moment it was the rush of hormones and the dregs of milk of the poppy still ravaging her system but suddenly, regretted those feelings sorely. No, she should have cherished the time when you were safely tucked away for herself. When you were more hers than you’d ever be again.

She held onto that for years. The ache of separateness she’d never felt for any one of her children before. The love for her other children had always come so late in comparison. With you, it was so easy.

Until it wasn’t so. You hadn’t yet flowered but you’d grown so fast. The ache intensified, the stirring need to have you back where you belonged, closer to her heart — very nearly killed her every time she saw you. Even so, she would still rather be with you than your siblings. She couldn’t be with you as much as she had when you were but a babe and she could take you anywhere in her arms without scrutiny. She was preoccupied with the needs and antics of your elder siblings who always seemed to be in need of something they could not or otherwise would not give themselves. It was exhausting. The ache was a reprieve in itself from the monumental exhaustion of dealing with your, though beloved to be sure, very high maintenance siblings. It was pleasant. Everything about being a mother was as tender as a wound, it could never be wholly pleasant. But there was something so addictive in it when it was you. She never felt so close to the Mother as when she held you.

In your chambers just after you’ve bathed and dressed in your nightgown, she arrived at the side of your bed to kiss your forehead gently, a gesture reserved for you. “Tell me what you’ve learned from your Septa today,” she softly instructed, stroking your hair. It has gotten so long, so soft and so lovely to twirl about her fingers. It’s a habit she developed. “Did you practice your letters?”

You nodded, looking up at her. “Yes, she says I’ve gotten much better.”

“Good job,” she praised, a soft smile on her lips. “Perhaps I don't have to read to you nearly as much now.” A lie. She'd read to you until the end of the world, even if you no longer needed her to, so long as she can be near you. Her eyes slipped shut momentarily, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as her hands continued to stroke your hair in a lulling rhythm.

You pouted slightly, in a way she might've reprimanded you for, had you been your elder sister. "But I like you reading to me."

You feel her arms wrap around you, folding you into her embrace, unable to resist. “Would you like me to read now?” she murmurs, kissing the top of your head, breathing in the scent of your freshly washed, still slightly dampened hair.

"Yes, please." So pleasing and charming you were when you said it. Oh, she could hardly get your siblings to simply mutter the words meaninglessly!

"Very well," she said softly, but the warmth in her voice made it more than a simple 'yes', her other children would never know she could offer anything but a resigned, "here" that came with an exasperated sigh. She settled in next to you.

"What shall it be tonight?" She asked, her thumb stroking your cheek, her voice holding a level of patience that could only come from the love she has for you. "The Seven Pointed Star?" You hummed your assent.

She opened the tome, her eyes scanning the words for a moment before she begins.

"The Seven Who Are One…" Your mother's voice sung out in a soft lilt, the words soft, the pace measured and gentle. As she speaks you feel yourself relaxing, and falling deeper into her embrace. You could lose yourself with her. Your eyes closed as she read on. Her words fell into a rhythm and her voice carries a soothing tune. You feel drawn inward. The world is just you and your mother.

Alas, she’d had to leave you after you fell asleep, to check on her other, more tumultuous children. It was a mournful fact that because you were her youngest and regardless of being her most beloved, she was still forced to give less of her time to you. But she returned before you woke and when you opened your eyes, your mother was there sitting beside you in your bed. “Good morning, sweetling.” she said, and she snuggled you in her arms, just holding you. She gazed at you, studying your face. “You slept for a while, it is already late morning, I wasn’t sure if you would wake.”

“Good morning.” You rubbed at your tired eyes. “I slept deeply, I suppose…” you muttered.

Alicent knew this. Of course she did, she was watching you for a while. “You've always slept heavily. Even as a babe, you would fall sound asleep with just a bit of rocking.” A small smile curled at her lips, her voice soft and motherly. “I used to worry that you’d never awaken, when you were a babe. I could never tell the difference between your sleeping and your death.”

That earned her a small, dreamy smile from your lips. “You were fussing over me even then?”

Her ensuing laughter was rich, and her eyes crinkling at the edges. “Oh, my sweetling, of course I was.” Her tone grew more serious then, and she pressed a kiss to your forehead. “I worried for you every single day.”

“You worry now.”

“I know. And I know you think me foolish, but I do.” Her voice held the weight of her heart, the weight of years of anxiety. She strokes your hair, her hands gentle as they run through your locks. “I know you're nearly a woman grown, but I cannot help it. You are my daughter, my youngest. My little one.”

“I would not wish to leave your side,” you tried to assure her.

She sighed. “I would be wroth to see you ever leave my side. I cannot stomach it.” She kisses the top of your head. “I don’t know how I will do it if you are wed outside of our house. I feel my heart break just thinking of it.”

“Mine as well.” It was true, you truly could not imagine being away from your mother’s side. You did not particularly desire either of your silly elder brothers but the idea of marrying them held a certain comfort as it meant you’d get to stay with your mother. You were certain to die if you had to leave her behind.

“They tell me not to dote upon you, and to prepare you for life. But I can only see you as my child. I suppose I will forever.” She looked at you with a somewhat haunted expression, and her hand moved to cup your cheek.

“I enjoy you doting on me. Your company is a comfort.”

"I am glad," she smiled, her fingers threading through your hair. "When I'm not around, I worry that the world will be harsh to you, that it will swallow you whole and break you. I did not have…my mother with me when I left my home for good. But you have me. You are mine, and I wish to keep you safe."

She bit her lip before continuing. “I would have kept you in my womb until we turned to dust, would that I could. I know it is foolish but I miss it terribly. There we had nothing to fear. I protected you from the outside. You lived in a realm of safety, of comfort. No one could ever touch you there. No one could ever hurt you."

The concept intrigued you. The life you led, of scrutiny and pending obligation, could leave you feeling so exposed, a wound open to the air. “The world is much too loud now that I’m in it. I do miss being so close to you.” You obviously couldn't remember, not like she did, but you could imagine. You could imagine yourself curled into her, held by her, never needing anything but that...and the thought was an enticing one.

“I miss it more,” Alicent whispers. Tears welled in her eyes. “I know it is foolish of me, but when I see a woman with a child in her belly, I cannot help but be reminded of you, I cannot help but envy her.” Her voice was sullen, her gazed fixed on you. “I miss those kicks against my womb, and I miss the way you would curl into yourself. I wish I could bring us back.” Revising history is something the queen has gotten quite good at doing, she cannot recall— or at least won’t admit to, those same feelings of helplessness, lethargy and slight dissociation that had returned with each pregnancy. All of it has been replaced, memories tinged in the feeling of yearning she carries now.

“It would be just us two,” you whispered, your chest tightening slightly with an unfortunate longing to return to her.

"Forever. That would have been a very good life, my sweetling. A peaceful one." A tear trickled down her cheek, this time, though, she did not even try to wipe it away. You reached out to wipe her tear away, delicately with your thumb and the gesture was so soft, she thinks. Softer than any touch she had ever felt. It overwhelmed her to the point of trembling.

“Thank you.” Her voice was slightly raspy. You are truly beautiful to her in the candlelight, and even though you are a girl almost grown, she still sees you as the babe you were when you were first pushed into her arms, so many nights ago. “You have a very soft touch."

“Of course, I learned from you,” you said easily and Alicent had to look closely at your expression to be certain you aren’t just being jovial at her expense. But she was relieved and vaguely ashamed to find that you are entirely sincere without a hint of irony in all of your being.

She was speechless for a moment. Alicent was no longer gentle, she didn’t think she had that in her anymore. Her whole being felt sharp, ready to bleed. Even with her own children, she was seldom the mother she’d have imagined herself to be before she was married, especially with Aegon who she so struggled to even want to be gentle with. She’d forgotten that all the gentleness she possessed was not lost but had simply been redirected into you. It shamed her, it relieved her.

She decided that it was true, even if later she’d be deep her self loathing and rebuke the notion. For now, your softness was owed to the kind of mother she’d been to you. “That is true.” She laughed softly, feeling the high of your praise overwhelm her wariness. Her hands returned to playing in your hair, wafting the scent of soap and the warm musk of your skin toward her. Oh, that scent…When she come to visit your chambers just after you left them, she’d smell your pillows, your sheets, unable to help herself. It always unlocked some beastly sort of satisfaction inside her. She had even saved a little gown of yours from when you were a babe, unwilling to part with the scent of your skin. Back then, she’d attributed it to you being so young, to the bodily mysteries of a mother still fresh from labor but it had lingered. “You have such a sweet smell, my girl. I have always loved your scent.”

“I know. My handmaid told me you used to smell me a lot when I was a babe.”

So her strangeness had not gone unnoticed. “That I did. The smell of your sweet skin…” You could tell she got lost in a memory for a bit, and her face grew nostalgic. “I loved your scent so much. There was nothing like it.”

“Every day, I would smell your skin. I would kiss your cheeks and your little fingers…” Her words trailed off as she smiled, remembering. “You still have the same scent now. I would know it anywhere.”

“You were enamored with me,” you said, grinning as you stretched out in bed like a lazy cat.

She laughed softly. “I really was. You were a beautiful babe, so perfect and delicate in my eyes. I never wanted to let you out of my sight.” She remembered her father admonishing her for refusing to leave you with the maids, her near in tears trying to make him understand that this was different and him simply not willing to understand how the love of a fourth child, a girl, could have driven his daughter so utterly mad.

“I know. Grandsire says you took me everywhere with you.”

“That I did,” she confirmed, sighing softly. “I did not want anyone else to hold you.”

“Why not?” You had yet to truly address the severity of your mother’s preoccupation with you. To you, it was only love. You could not understand its implications or its logic.

“Because I did not trust anyone else with you.” She whispered. “I could not bear the thought of even leaving you with a maid, not for long anyway. You are my child, and I did not want anyone but me to care for you or see to your needs.”

“Oh, but it must have been such work!”

“All children are work, a lot of it,” she insisted. “But you were— you are a good kind of work. You gave me something to focus on besides all my other obligations. You were my little princess, always with me, and always wanting my attention. It was tiring, but I would not have had it any other way.” You made her feel the kind of love her first chance at motherhood should have brought her. You made her feel like a mother in the way the gods intended.

“That is very sweet.” It was more than sweet. It warmed your heart to hear from your mother that the work she has put into raising you, into keeping you — she saw it all as worth the trouble.

“It’s the truth. I have never loved anything more than you.”

“I’m glad for it. Glad to be deserving of it.”

Oh, your sweet little heart! Her hand cupped your face, and her fingers stroked your soft, delicate cheek, her eyes meeting yours. “You are far greater than deserving. You were perfect when you arrived, and you only became more beautiful as you grew older.”

You looked down, slightly bashful. “You’re beautiful too, mother.”

Your words bring on the fiercest of longing. Tears of joy and perhaps bitterness trickled from her eyes. "You are the sweetest daughter a mother could ask for. I love you so very much."

She is near breaking into a fit of sobs, breathing deeply to calm herself, blinking away her tears before she speaks again. "Sometimes I wish I could turn back time, and have those days again. The days where we could be wrapped up in each other, and the world was just us two."

And as your eyes light at the words, she cannot resist anymore. She brings you into her arms, your head resting against her breasts and her leaning down to kiss your head, breathing in your smell yet again. In a few years at latest, she’d wed you to one of your brothers and keep you safe within her watch. Then everything would be alright, you’d be safe only when there was promise you could stay with her forever.

“No matter,” she murmured against your hair, trying to soothe herself back into dignity. “Mother will protect you even now.”

#alicent x reader #hotd x reader #platonic yandere #alicent hightower x reader #platonic yandere x reader

603 notes · View notes

meanqueens · 3 months

Text

The Real Alicent Hightower

(or, a compilation of every passage in George R. R. Martin’s “Fire and Blood” pertaining to her character)

(unless i missed something, in which case please let me know and i can update this post!)

disclaimer: my goal was not to include every time her name was mentioned, but rather to highlight everything that could be indicative of her actual character (i.e. things that she did or were done to/said about her). for full contexts and details regarding other characters, i highly recommend reading F&B yourself.

Heirs of the Dragon—A Question of Succession

“Ser Otto brought his wife and children to court with him, and served King Jaehaerys faithfully for the years remaining to him. As the Old King’s strength and wits began to fail, he was oft confined to his bed. Ser Otto’s precocious fifteen-year-old daughter, Alicent, became his constant companion, fetching His Grace his meals, reading to him, helping him to bathe and dress himself. The Old King sometimes mistook her for one of his daughters, calling her by their names; near the end, he grew certain she was his daughter Saera, returned to him from beyond the narrow sea. In the year 103 AC King Jaehaerys I Targaryen died in his bed as Lady Alicent was reading to him from Septon Barth’s Unnatural History.” “Another woman had caught his eye. He announced his intention to wed Lady Alicent of House Hightower, the clever and lovely eighteen-year-old daughter of the King’s Hand, the girl who had read to King Jaehaerys as he lay dying. The Hightowers of Oldtown were an ancient and noble family, of impeccable lineage; there could be no possible objection to the king’s choice of bride. Even so, there were those who murmured that the Hand had risen above himself, that he had brought his daughter to court with this in mind. A few even cast doubt on Lady Alicent’s virtue, suggesting she had welcomed King Viserys into her bed even before Queen Aemma’s death. (These calumnies were never proved, though Mushroom repeats them in his Testimony and goes so far as to claim that reading was not the only service Lady Alicent performed for the Old King in his bedchamber.)”

“When King Viserys took Alicent Hightower to wife in 106 AC, House Velaryon was notable for its absence. Princess Rhaenyra poured for her stepmother at the feast, and Queen Alicent kissed her and named her “daughter.” The princess was amongst the women who disrobed the king and delivered him to the bedchamber of his bride.” "...mummers and singers heralded the birth of each new Targaryen princeling. Queen Alicent had soon proved to be as fertile as she was pretty. In 107 AC, she bore the king a healthy son, naming him Aegon, after the Conqueror. Two years later, she produced a daughter for the king, Helaena; in 110 AC, she bore him a second son, Aemond, who was said to be half the size of his elder brother, but twice as fierce." "“Ser Criston protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from Ser Criston?” Queen Alicent asked one day at court. The amity between Her Grace and her stepdaughter had proved short-lived, for both Rhaenyra and Alicent aspired to be the first lady of the realm…and though the queen had given the king not one but two male heirs, Viserys had done nothing to change the order of succession." "Still, questions persisted, not the least from Queen Alicent herself. Loudest amongst her supporters was her father, Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King." "Even after Ser Otto had returned to Oldtown, a “queen’s party” still existed at court; a group of powerful lords friendly to Queen Alicent and supportive of the rights of her sons. Against them was pitted the “party of the princess.” King Viserys loved both his wife and daughter, and hated conflict and contention. He strove all his days to keep the peace between his women, and to please both with gifts and gold and honors."

"In 111 AC, a great tourney was held at King’s Landing on the fifth anniversary of the king’s marriage to Queen Alicent. At the opening feast, the queen wore a green gown, whilst the princess dressed dramatically in Targaryen red and black. Note was taken, and thereafter it became the custom to refer to “greens” and “blacks” when talking of the queen’s party and the party of the princess, respectively. In the tourney itself, the blacks had much the better of it when Ser Criston Cole, wearing Princess Rhaenyra’s favor, unhorsed all of the queen’s champions, including two of her cousins and her youngest brother, Ser Gwayne Hightower."

"Though [Daemon] treated Queen Alicent with all the courtesy due her station, there was no warmth between them, and men said that the prince was notably cool toward her children, especially his nephews, Aegon and Aemond, whose birth had pushed him still lower in the order of succession."

"...entertained [Rhaenyra] by making mock of the greens at court, the “lickspittles” fawning over Queen Alicent and her children."

"Others assert that it was at Queen Alicent’s urging that Viserys sent Daemon away."

"Queen Alicent had her own candidate: her eldest son, Prince Aegon, Rhaenyra’s half-brother. But Aegon was a boy, the princess ten years his elder. Moreover, the two half-siblings had never gotten on well. “All the more reason to bind them together in marriage,” the queen argued. Viserys did not agree. “The boy is Alicent’s own blood,” he told Lord Strong. “She wants him on the throne.”"

"(The princess always took care to refer to Queen Alicent’s sons as half-brothers, never as brothers.)"

"Denied Rhaenyra’s favor, Criston Cole turned to Queen Alicent instead. Wearing her token, the young Lord Commander of the Kingsguard defeated all challengers, fighting in a black fury."

"King Viserys was most wroth as well; a joyous celebration had become the occasion of grief and recrimination. It was said that Queen Alicent did not share his displeasure, however; soon after, she asked that Ser Criston Cole be made her personal protector. The coolness between the king’s wife and the king’s daughter was plain for all to see; even envoys from the Free Cities made note of it in letters sent back to Pentos, Braavos, and Old Volantis."

"The court was still rejoicing over the birth of the princess’s child when her stepmother, Queen Alicent, also went into labor, delivering Viserys his third son, Daeron…whose coloring, unlike that of Jace, testified to his dragon blood. By royal command, the infants Jacaerys Velaryon and Daeron Targaryen shared a wet nurse until weaned. It was Said that the king hoped to prevent any enmity between the two boys by raising them as milk brothers. If so, his hopes proved to be sadly forlorn."

"...King Viserys was delighted with him when the child was presented at court. These feelings were not shared by his queen. “Do keep trying,” Queen Alicent told Ser Laenor, according to Mushroom, “soon or late, you may get one who looks like you.” And the rivalry between the greens and blacks grew deeper, finally reaching the point where the queen and the princess could scarce suffer each other’s presence. Thereafter Queen Alicent kept to the Red Keep, whilst the princess spent her days on Dragonstone..."

"According to Mushroom, this only served to deepen her resentment of her stepmother, Queen Alicent, who remained slender and graceful at half again her age. The sins of the fathers are oft visited on the sons, wise men have said; and so it is for the sins of mothers as well. The enmity between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra was passed on to their sons, and the queen’s three boys, the Princes Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, grew to be bitter rivals of their Velaryon nephews, resentful of them for having stolen what they regarded as their birthright: the Iron Throne itself."

"His father and mother would never allow him to go near Vhagar, Aemond knew, much less try to ride her. So he made certain they did not know..."

"...these courtesies did not appease their vengeful mothers. Queen Alicent demanded that one of Lucerys Velaryon’s eyes should be put out, for the eye he had cost Aemond. Princess Rhaenyra would have none of that, but insisted that Prince Aemond should be questioned “sharply”..."

"His Grace further commanded his wife and daughter to kiss and exchange vows of love and affection. But their false smiles and empty words deceived no one but the king."

"King Viserys further decreed that Queen Alicent and her sons would return with him to court, whilst Princess Rhaenyra confined herself to Dragonstone with her sons."

"...bringing the princess and her sons back to King’s Landing, where more conflict with the queen and her own brood would have been inevitable."

"In King’s Landing, however, Queen Alicent grew most wroth when she learned the babe had been named Aegon, taking that for a slight against her own son Aegon…which, according to The Testimony of Mushroom, it most certainly was."

"The princess and the queen were both commanded to attend, with all their children. In a show of amity, each woman wore the other’s color and many declarations of love were made, to the king’s great pleasure. Prince Daemon raised a cup to Ser Otto Hightower and thanked him for his leal service as Hand. Ser Otto in turn spoke of the prince’s courage, whilst Alicent’s children and Rhaenyra’s greeted one another with kisses and broke bread together at table. Or so the court chronicles record."

"Queen Alicent, however, insisted that the princess and her maester had mutilated His Grace unnecessarily. Had they not “meddled,” she claimed, Grand Maester Mellos would surely have saved the king’s fingers as well as his life. She urged the appointment of one Maester Alfador, presently in service at the Hightower. Viserys, beset from both sides, chose neither, reminding both the princess and the queen that the choice was not his to make."

The Dying of the Dragons—The Blacks and the Greens

"The servant ran to inform Queen Alicent, whose apartments were on the floor below the king’s. Septon Eustace, writing on these events some years later, points out that the manservant delivered his dire tidings directly to the queen, and her alone, without raising a general alarum. Eustace does not believe this was wholly fortuitous; the king’s death had been anticipated for some time, he argues, and Queen Alicent and her party, the so-called greens, had taken care to instruct all of Viserys’s guards and servants in what to do when the day came. (The dwarf Mushroom suggests a more sinister scenario, whereby Queen Alicent hurried King Viserys on his way with a pinch of poison in his hippocras. It must be noted that Mushroom was not in King’s Landing the night the king died, but rather on Dragonstone, in service with Princess Rhaenyra.) Queen Alicent went at once to the king’s bedchamber, accompanied by Ser Criston Cole, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. Once they had confirmed that Viserys was dead, Her Grace ordered his room sealed and placed under guard. The serving man who had found the king’s body was taken into custody, to make certain he did not spread the tale. Ser Criston returned to White Sword Tower and sent his brothers of the Kingsguard to summon the members of the king’s small council. It was the hour of the owl."

"The council convened in the queen’s apartments within Maegor’s Holdfast."

"Gathering in the queen’s chambers as the body of her lord husband grew cold above were Queen Alicent herself..."

"“Mayhaps Her Grace the queen would care to write the message, so as to soften these sad tidings with some words of condolence?”"

"“King,” insisted Queen Alicent. “The Iron Throne by rights must pass to His Grace’s eldest trueborn son.”"

"“My own head will be the first cut off, I do not doubt, but your queen, my daughter, will soon follow.” Queen Alicent echoed him. “Nor will they spare my children,” she declared. “Aegon and his brothers are the king’s trueborn sons, with a better claim to the throne than her brood of bastards. Daemon will find some pretext to put them all to death. Even Helaena and her little ones. One of these Strongs put out Aemond’s eye, never forget. He was a boy, aye, but the boy is the father to the man, and bastards are monstrous by nature.”"

"“Mayhaps the whore will die in childbirth,” Queen Alicent is reported to have said (according to Mushroom)."

"And so each of the conspirators slashed their palms and clasped hands with one another, swearing brotherhood. Queen Alicent alone amongst them was excused from the oath, on account of her womanhood. Dawn was breaking over the city before Queen Alicent dispatched the Kingsguard to bring her sons Aegon and Aemond to the council. (Prince Daeron, the youngest and gentlest of her children, was in Oldtown, serving as Lord Hightower’s squire.)"

"Ravens flew, but not to Dragonstone. They went instead to Oldtown, to Casterly Rock, to Riverrun, to Highgarden, and to many other lords and knights whom Queen Alicent had cause to think might be sympathetic to her son."

"“Then we must see that [Borros Baratheon] leads [the lesser storm lords] to our king,” Queen Alicent declared. Whereupon she sent for her second son."

"...Queen Alicent knew they could delay no longer. Prince Aegon had grown weary of secrecy. “Am I a king or no?” he demanded of his mother. “If I am king, then crown me.”"

"His mother, Queen Alicent, beloved of the smallfolk, placed her own crown upon the head of her daughter, Helaena, Aegon’s wife and sister. After kissing her cheeks, the mother knelt before the daughter, bowed her head, and said, “My Queen.”"

"...Queen Alicent had ordered Viserys’s crown locked away..."

"The princess shrieked curses all through her labor, calling down the wrath of the gods upon her half-brothers and their mother, the queen, and detailing the torments she would inflict upon them before she would let them die."

"[Rhaenyra's] first act as queen was to declare Ser Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent traitors and rebels."

"But when the two queens—his mother, Queen Alicent, and his wife, Queen Helaena— spoke in favor of Orwyle’s proposal, the truculent king gave way reluctantly. So Grand Maester Orwyle was dispatched across Blackwater Bay under a peace banner..."

The Dying of the Dragons—A Son for a Son

"Queen Alicent went pale when she heard what [Aemond] had done, crying, “Mother have mercy on us all.”"

"Unbeknownst to King Aegon, the Hand, or the Queen Dowager, [Daemon] had allies at court as well, even on the green council…"

"Instead they slipped into [Otto's] daughter’s chambers, one floor below. Queen Alicent had taken up residence there after the death of King Viserys, when her son Aegon moved into Maegor’s Holdfast with his own queen. Once inside, Cheese bound and gagged the Dowager Queen whilst Blood strangled her bedmaid. Then they settled down to wait, for they knew it was the custom of Queen Helaena to bring her children to see their grandmother every evening before bed."

"As they entered the apartments, Helaena was holding his little hand and calling out her mother’s name."

"Queen Alicent had commanded Larys Clubfoot to learn [Blood's] true name, so that she might bathe in the blood of his wife and children, but our sources do not say if this occurred."

"The king had no recourse but to take the boy from [Helaena] and give him over to their mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, to raise as if he were her own."

The Dying of the Dragons—The Red Dragon and the Gold

"Though his mother, the Dowager Queen Alicent, spoke up in Ser Otto’s defense, His Grace turned a deaf ear to her pleading."

"...thousands left King’s Landing afterward, until the Dowager Queen Alicent ordered the city gates closed and barred."

"None was allowed to disturb [Aegon II's] rest, save his mother the Queen Dowager and his Hand, Ser Criston Cole."

"The Queen Dowager favored caution as well, urging her son to wait until his brother the king and his dragon, Sunfyre the Golden, were healed, so they might join the attack."

"...it fell to his mother, the Queen Dowager, to see to the city’s defenses. Queen Alicent rose to the challenge, closing the gates of castle and city, sending the gold cloaks to the walls, and dispatching riders on swift horses to find Prince Aemond and fetch him back. As well, she commanded Grand Maester Orwyle to send ravens to “all our leal lords,” summoning them to the defense of their true king."

"Queen Alicent’s riders got no farther than the gates, where more gold cloaks took them into custody. Unbeknownst to Her Grace, the seven captains commanding the gates, chosen for their loyalty to King Aegon, had been imprisoned or murdered the moment Caraxes appeared in the sky above the Red Keep..."

"Upon seeing that resistance was hopeless, the Dowager Queen Alicent emerged from Maegor’s Holdfast with her father, Ser Otto Hightower..."

"...Queen Alicent attempted to treat with her stepdaughter. “Let us together summon a great council, as the Old King did in days of old,” said the Dowager Queen, “and lay the matter of succession before the lords of the realm.” But Queen Rhaenyra rejected the proposal with scorn. “Do you mistake me for Mushroom?” she asked. “We both know how this council would rule.” Then she bade her stepmother choose: yield or burn. Bowing her head in defeat, Queen Alicent surrendered the keys to the castle and ordered her knights and men-at-arms to lay down their swords. “The city is yours, Princess,” she is reported to have said, “but you will not hold it long. The rats play when the cat is gone, but my son Aemond will return with fire and blood.”"

"Not even the Dowager Queen seemed to know where [Aegon II, Jaehaera, Maelor, Willis Fell, Rickard Thorne] had gone..."

The Dying of the Dragons—Rhaenyra Triumphant

"Queen Alicent was fettered at wrist and ankle with golden chains, though her stepdaughter spared her life “for the sake of our father, who loved you once.” Her own father was less fortunate."

"The Sea Snake proposed to let the Faith take charge of Dowager Queen Alicent and Queen Helaena, so that they might spend the remainder of their lives in prayer and contemplation."

"Words of these plans soon reached the ears of the Dowager Queen, filling her with terror. Fearing for her sons, Queen Alicent went to the Iron Throne upon her knees, to plead for peace. This time the Queen in Chains put forth the notion that the realm might be divided; Rhaenyra would keep King’s Landing and the crownlands, the North, the Vale of Arryn, all the lands watered by the Trident, and the isles. To Aegon II would go the stormlands, the westerlands, and the Reach, to be ruled from Oldtown. Rhaenyra rejected her stepmother’s proposal with scorn. “Your sons might have had places of honor at my court if they had kept faith,” Her Grace declared, “but they sought to rob me of my birthright, and the blood of my sweet sons is on their hands.” “Bastard blood, shed at war,” Alicent replied. “My son’s sons were innocent boys, cruelly murdered. How many more must die to slake your thirst for vengeance?” The Dowager Queen’s words only fanned the fire of Rhaenyra’s wroth. “I will hear no more lies,” she warned. “Speak again of bastardy, and I will have your tongue out.” Or so the tale is told by Septon Eustace. Munkun says the same in his True Telling. Here again Mushroom differs. The dwarf would have us believe that Rhaenyra ordered her stepmother’s tongue torn out at once, rather than merely threatening this. It was only a word from Lady Misery that stayed her hand, the fool insists; the White Worm proposed another, crueler punishment. King Aegon’s wife and mother were taken in chains to a certain brothel, and there sold to any man who wished to have his pleasure of them. The price was high; a golden dragon for Queen Alicent, three dragons for Queen Helaena, who was younger and more beautiful. Yet Mushroom says there were many in the city who thought that cheap for carnal knowledge of a queen. “Let them remain there until they are with child,” Lady Misery is purported to have said. “They speak of bastards so freely, let them each have one for their very own.”"

"...word of battle and betrayal at Tumbleton had reached King’s Landing. It is said the Dowager Queen Alicent laughed when she heard. “All they have sowed, now shall they reap,” she promised."

The Dying of the Dragons—Rhaenyra Overthrown

"If Rhaenyra were intent on murder, surely it would have been the Dowager Queen Alicent flung down onto the spikes."

"When Dowager Queen Alicent was informed of her daughter’s passing, she rent her garments and pronounced a dire curse upon her rival."

"Both were on hand the next day to bear witness as Ser Perkin’s gangling squire Trystane mounted the Iron Throne. So too was the Queen Dowager, Alicent of House Hightower."

The Dying of the Dragons—The Short, Sad Reign of Aegon II

"And so the Clubfoot was dispatched across the river under a flag of truce, accompanied by Grand Maester Orwyle and the Dowager Queen Alicent."

"There Queen Alicent received the glad news that her grandaughter Jaehaera, the only surviving child of her son Aegon and daughter Helaena, had been delivered safely to Storm’s End by Ser Willis Fell of the Kingsguard. The Dowager Queen wept tears of joy. Betrayals and betrothals followed, until an accord was reached between Lord Borros, Lord Larys, and Queen Alicent, with Grand Maester Orwyle as witness."

"Queen Alicent agreed that her son King Aegon would make Lady Cassandra, Lord Borros’s eldest daughter, his new queen."

"“[Corlys Velaryon] is traitor thrice over,” Queen Alicent said. “Rhaenyra could never have taken King’s Landing but for him. His Grace my son will not have forgotten. I want him dead.”"

"...the golden dragon banner of King Aegon II raised in their stead. Queen Alicent herself emerged from the Red Keep to bid [Borros Baratheon] welcome, with Ser Perkin the Flea beside her."

"Queen Alicent proclaimed a curfew, making it unlawful to be on the city streets after dark."

"Behind the walls of the Red Keep, the Dowager Queen Alicent and Lord Larys Strong had offered the Sea Snake his freedom, a full pardon for his treasons, and a place on the king’s small council if he would bend his knee to Aegon II as his king and deliver them the swords and sails of Driftmark."

"Queen Alicent was outraged by Lord Velaryon’s “arrogance,” Munkun tells us, especially his demand that Queen Rhaenyra’s Aegon be named as heir to her own Aegon. She had suffered the loss of two of her three sons and her only daughter during the Dance, and could not bear the thought that any of her rival’s sons should live. Angrily, Her Grace reminded Lord Corlys that she had twice proposed terms of peace to Rhaenyra, only to have her overtures rejected with scorn. It fell to Lord Larys the Clubfoot to pour oil on the troubled waters, calming the queen with a quiet reminder of all they had discussed in Lord Baratheon’s tent, and persuading her to consent to the Sea Snake’s proposals. The next day Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, knelt before Queen Alicent as she sat upon the lower steps of the Iron Throne, as proxy for her son, and there pledged the king his loyalty and that of his house. Before the eyes of gods and men, the Queen Dowager granted him and his a royal pardon, and restored him to his old place on the small council, as admiral and master of ships."

"Urged on by his mother, the Queen Dowager Alicent, Aegon II was determined to exact vengeance upon those who had betrayed and deposed him."

"If the rebels could flaunt a dragon and the loyalists could not, Queen Alicent pointed out, smallfolk might see their foes as more legitimate."

"Queen Alicent had reluctantly agreed to the betrothal of her granddaughter to Rhaenyra’s son, but she had done so without the king’s consent. Aegon II had other ideas."

"When Queen Alicent demured, wondering aloud how Lord Corlys could possibly be won back after all that had been said that day, Lord Strong replied, “That task you may leave to me, Your Grace. His lordship will listen to me, I daresay.”"

"His mother entertained no such hope. “You fed [Aegon III's] mother to your dragon,” she reminded her son. “The boy saw it all.” The king turned to her desperately. “What would you have me do?” “You have hostages,” the Queen Dowager replied. “Cut off one of the boy’s ears and send it to Lord Tully. Warn them he will lose another part for every mile they advance.”"

"Queen Alicent was arrested on the serpentine steps as she made her way back to her chambers. Her captors wore the seahorse of House Velaryon upon their doublets, and though they slew the two men guarding her, they did no harm to the Dowager Queen herself, nor to her ladies. The Queen in Chains was chained again and taken to the dungeons, there to await the pleasure of the new king. By then the last of her sons was already dead."

Aftermath—The Hour of the Wolf

"Within the Red Keep, the Lads found the dead king’s body laid out upon a bier beneath the Iron Throne, with his mother, Queen Alicent, weeping beside it."

"The realm’s new rulers found themselves divided on the question of what to do with the Dowager Queen Alicent, but elsewise all seemed in accord, and good fellowship reigned…for the best part of a fortnight."

"...men placed wagers on how long the Clubfoot, the Sea Snake, the Flea, and the Dowager Queen would keep their heads."

"The men who had seized the Queen Dowager upon the serpentine steps had worn the seahorse badge of House Velaryon..."

"Queen Alicent’s captors had slain her guards and were thus condemned to death..."

Under the Regents—The Hooded Hand

"And the more observant made note of another absence. The Dowager Queen was nowhere to be seen, though as Jaehaera’s grandmother, Alicent Hightower ought to have been present."

"A more immediate problem was posed by the Dowager Queen, who refused to reconcile herself to the new king. The murder of the last of her sons had turned Alicent’s heart into a stone. None of the regents wished to see her put to death, some from compassion, others for fear that such an execution might rekindle the flames of war. Yet she could not be allowed to take part in the life of the court as before. She was too apt to rain down curses on the king, or snatch a dagger from some unwary guardsman. Alicent could not even be trusted in the company of the little queen; when last allowed to share a meal with Her Grace, she had told Jaehaera to cut her husband’s throat whilst he was sleeping, which set the child to screaming. Ser Tyland felt he had no choice but to confine the Queen Dowager to her own apartments in Maegor’s Holdfast; a gentle imprisonment, but imprisonment nonetheless."

"One death may have been a mercy. The Dowager Queen Alicent of House Hightower, second wife of King Viserys I and mother to his sons, Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron, and his daughter Helaena, died on the same night as Lord Westerling, after confessing her sins to her septa. She had outlived all of her children and spent the last year of her life confined to her apartments, with no company but her septa, the serving girls who brought her food, and the guards outside her door. Books were given her, and needles and thread, but her guards said Alicent spent more time weeping than reading or sewing. One day she ripped all her clothing into pieces. By the end of the year she had taken to talking to herself, and had come to have a deep aversion to the color green. In her last days the Queen Dowager seemed to become more lucid. “I want to see my sons again,” she told her septa, “and Helaena, my sweet girl, oh…and King Jaehaerys. I will read to him, as I did when I was little. He used to say I had a lovely voice.” (Strangely, in her final hours Queen Alicent spoke often of the Old King, but never of her husband, King Viserys.) The Stranger came for her on a rainy night, at the hour of the wolf."

372 notes · View notes

the-fiction-witch · 2 months

Text

Little Lady

Media - House Of The Dragon Character - Jacaerys Velaryon Couple - Jacaerys X Reader Reader - (OC) Lady Melimina (Betrothal) Rating - Sexy Word Count - 3435

Jace lingered on the balcony of his chamber in dragonstone watching as vermax flew around the castle restlessly. He felt angry, so trapped here on dragonstone while the war wages, his mother refused him to go and broker alliances, she refused him to fight, even to fly vermax. She said it wasn't safe. That he was her heir and he needed to be safe... He felt like a coddled princeling. To stand at home with mommy while a war for his family, his claim went on within him. He leaned his back against the stone wall behind him feeling the coldness of the hard stone against his body, a sudden wave of frustration took over him. Being confined on Dragonstone felt like a death sentence. Jacaerys looked up in the sky watching Vermax fly in circles around the castle. It was like he knew what he was going through.

"My prince?" the sound of footsteps come out to the balcony, and his betrothal lady Melimina appeared in her black gown with red pattern in the fabric with a dragon pin at her waist to secure it on her body. She nervously stepped out but kept her distance, "Is something troubling you?

He looked down at her, his eyes piercing into her own gaze and noticed that she kept her distance as if she was afraid of coming closer to him. "It seems like you already know the answer to that" he said before looking back at the sky watching Vermax fly around.

She nodded "She only wishes to protect you My prince." She said softly, "you are her heir, her future. The targaryen future, the Velaryon future, so much rests on you... And ... After what happened… to lucerys" she said tenderly

He exhaled loudly as he heard her speak the name of his younger brother. The memories of that day still fresh and painful as if it had happened yesterday. "I know that, but she doesn't have to keep me on a leash and shut me away in this place. I can fight, I can-" he looked down at his feet clenching his fists before continuing "...I can do more than she thinks."

"I'm sure you can," she nodded trembling slightly at the sight of his fists "but... Patience, is a great thing for the future king also?" She encouraged

His breath grew heavy, anger and disappointment coursing through his veins as he realized how right she was. Being patient was definitely a virtue. He unclenched his fists and took in a deep breath before looking back into her eyes. "You're right." he exhaled as he leaned his back against the wall once again "I'm just tired of this... waiting around while the others fight out there. I want to be a part of this war too."

"And you sit on your mother's council, beside her every discussion of movements and tactics. She is teaching you to lead. I know it's frustrating... And I... I wish I could help"

He chuckled faintly at her comment. A part of him felt a sense of comfort in knowing that she was trying to understand him, trying to help. Even if it might be just a little. He looked down and then at her again, the tension in his body starting to ease as he spoke. "Your presence alone is enough, Melimina. Having you talk to me is help, I suppose. I'd go insane if I stayed here by myself."

She blushed "thank you my prince,"

A small, soft smile appeared on his lips noticing her gentle blush. "There's no need to thank me." he spoke in a low, soft tone. His eyes lingered on her form, taking in every detail. From the way her black dress hugged her to the small dragon pin resting at her waist.

"... I have heard word of discussions to meet with the tullys of riverrun and the freys of the crossing... Your mother had suggested I go" she explained

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. "The Tullys and the Freys?" he repeated, processing the information. "And she suggested you go? I wonder why..." he said, a hint of suspicion in his voice

"... My grandmother was a Tully, my prince"

He looked at her with a bit of surprise, the pieces coming together in his mind. "I see... you have family there, then. I suppose that's why my mother thought it a good idea for you to go."

"... Perhaps, if you wish I could ask her to send you instead?"

His gaze snapped back to her, a flicker of hope appearing in his eyes. The thought of leaving Dragonstone filled him with a renewed energy, and he couldn't conceal the excitement on his face as he replied "I... I would appreciate that, Melimina, truly. It would mean a lot if I could go instead."

"... And perhaps," She blushed "... Maybe we might... Go together?" She suggested nervously

His eyes widened at her suggestion, a mixture of surprise and interest crossing his face. The thought of going away with her, together... the idea was both exciting and nerve-wracking. "Together?" he repeated, the words leaving his mouth slowly as if to savor the idea "I... I wouldn't mind that."

"perhaps two dragons could be more persuasive then one. And perhaps the... Royal heir and his... Future wife... The potential future king and queen may... Inspire some alliance?" She struggled not to giggle

The corners of his mouth tugged upwards into a faint smile at her suggestion. The thought of using their status and future titles to inspire loyalty and gain alliances... it was a strategically smart move. But there was more to it than that. It would be a chance for them to get closer, to spend time together away from the confines of Dragonstone, "You're quite clever, Melimina. And you're right again... two dragons are definitely more persuasive than one."

she blushed and nodded "I will put it to her at the council in the morning,"

He smiled and nodded in agreement, a wave of anticipation and excitement coursing through him at the prospect of potentially going on this journey. It was the first time in a long while that he looked forward to something. "I'll be looking forward to that council then. Thank you, Melimina. For considering it, for helping me..." he said genuinely, his expression turning into a soft and warm gaze.

"your welcome, of course I want to help... It ....breaks my heart to see you upset," she explained "and..." She chuckled looking out to vermax still circling, "I know starlight hates to see vermax so stressed,"

He laughed softly, gazing alongside her at Vermax still flying around the castle. The mention of Starlight, Melimina's own dragon, being worried about his own dragon brought a lighthearted moment to their conversation. "Ah, yes, Starlight... she's as perceptive as her owner it seems. We can't have our dragons worried about us too, can we?" he replied, looking back at her with a lighter, more relaxed expression.

"no, they should be down on the caves... Relaxing together" she cooed

His eyes widened at the idea. The thought of their dragons interacting and relaxing together was a cute and endearing image that brought a soft smile to his lips. "Relaxing together, huh? I like the sound of that. Vermax and Starlight... maybe they're already in love like their riders," he teased, his voice playful and lighthearted.

"I've caught them cuddling" she blushed

He was taken aback by the revelation and laughed incredulously. "Cuddling? You're serious?" he asked, his eyebrows raised, unable to believe that their dragons were in a more intimate relationship than they were. A hint of jealousy tugged at him, but he quickly dismissed it as he replied with a chuckle. "I never thought I'd feel outdone by my own dragon"

"out done my prince?"

He chuckled softly and looked back at her, a hint of playful competitiveness in his eyes. "Yes, outdone. Sounds like Vermax and Starlight have a more intimate relationship than we do..” he teased, his voice gentle but with a hint of suggestion.

she blushed "perhaps they do... But their dragons they don't have .. the rules and regulations we do"

He smirked, amused by her reaction and the point she made. He took a step closer, closing the distance between them slightly. "Ah, yes. The rules and regulations... such pesky things, aren't they? They keep us in line, make sure we behave." he said, his voice dropped to a lower, more intimate tone. He continued closing the distance between them little by little, the proximity creating a charged atmosphere that heightened the tension between them. He gazed at her intently, his eyes studying her every feature with a mixture of desire and restraint. "But rules and regulations... They also make things more interesting, don't you think? It adds a bit of... excitement. The thrill of breaking the rules... the forbidden."

she Blushed hard looking out to vermax and the waves, "makes me wonder if you'll have interest in me... When not forbidden fruit"

His gaze followed hers to look out at Vermax and the waves for a moment, his mind momentarily distracted. But then, he looked back at her, his eyes filled with a mixture of intensity and tenderness. "Ah, so you worry that once the thrill of the forbidden is gone, my interest in you might waver?" he asked, his voice smooth and low, a hint of a smile on his lips.

"it does ... Worry me" she admits fiddling with her fingers

He noticed her fiddling with her fingers, a sure sign of her nerves and concern. He stepped even closer, close enough that their bodies were almost touching. "I can assure you," he replied softly, his voice gentle and sincere, "that my interest in you goes beyond the thrill of the forbidden, Melimina. You are more than that to me... and you will continue to be, even when the 'forbidden' is gone."

"... It is another reason I hate this war so very much"

He raised an eyebrow curiously, silently asking her to elaborate on her statement. He listened intently, his body still close to hers as he waited for her to continue.

"if not for the war... We... We'd have been married by now"

His expression softened, his mind going back to the original plan and timeline. If not for the war, if everything had gone in their favor... they would indeed be married by now and ruling from the Iron Throne. "Yes, we would..." he said quietly, his voice laced with a hint of longing and disappointment. He took a step back, his gaze drifting away from her towards the horizon, his mind momentarily lost in thought.

"your mother would be queen. You'd be her heir. I'd be your ... Princess. We might have even had a child on the way by now. You'd be prince jacaerys Velaryon of dragonstone, heir to the iron throne."

Each word she said was like a stab to the heart, a reminder of the potential future that could have been. He had imagined that future too, countless times, and now it felt like it was slipping further and further away. "I know..." he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of sadness. He turned his gaze back to her, his eyes full of melancholy and longing. "That was the plan... that was how it was supposed to be."

"well..." She sighed "then we must end this war quickly, so things can be as they should"

He nodded in agreement, the determination in her words reigniting a fire within him. He looked at her with renewed resolve, his features hardening. "You're right," he said firmly, "we need to end this war as soon as possible. I won't rest until everything is how it should be again. Until my mother is queen and I am her heir as intended." He then stepped closer to her again, his eyes locked onto hers. This time, the distance between them seemed even more significant. Their bodies were almost touching, their proximity creating a charged atmosphere that was both electrifying and dangerous. "Melimina," he spoke softly, his voice low and laced with a hint of a promise, "I swear to you that I will do whatever it takes to make our future a reality. No matter the cost, no matter the sacrifices..."

"as honourable as that is my prince, I'd prefer you just... Be safe and well by the end. The crown makes no matter to me"

Her words made him pause, a wave of warmth and gratitude washed over him. Her concern for his safety and well-being was not something he was used to. He was the prince, expected to risk life and limb for his ambitions, but hearing her prioritize his safety over the crown made him feel a strange mixture of emotions. "You... you are a rare one, Melimina," he said quietly, his voice tinged with admiration and affection. "Most people in our world would prioritize their own gain and power above all else."

"... I'd be happy… in a little stone cottage with a waterwheel, in the river lands with you. Then all of westeros under my throne and a crown on my head without you"

He was taken aback by her words. The simplicity and sincerity of her statement struck him deeply. It was such an unexpected and yet touching notion. "A stone cottage with a waterwheel in the riverlands..." he repeated thoughtfully, his gaze lingering on her. Her preference for a simpler life with him over a grand throne and crown, it was almost too good to be true. He reached out and lightly touched her arm, his fingers gently brushing against her skin as if he couldn't quite believe she was real. "You truly mean that, don't you?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with disbelief and awe. "You would give up the throne, the crown, everything... just to have a simple life with me?"

"I would. Just somewhere safe, and cosy. Somewhere to raise little children, and... Have vermax and starlight snuggle in the barn together" she giggled brushing her fingers against his but to afraid to touch him quickly moving her hands to her stomach to fiddle with her fingers once more

He chuckled as she described the image of their future life, his imagination running wild. The thought of a quiet, peaceful life with her and their dragons... it was an enticing prospect. His eyes fixated on hers, watching the nervous fiddling and the almost-touch of their hands. "A cosy cottage... Starlight and Verax in the barn... little children running about..." he mused. "It sounds like an idyllic life, almost too good to be true."

"umm, waking by dawn, pressing apples with the waterwheel, feeding chickens, watching the children run, the dragons snuggling and .. having eggs to place in our own babies cradle... Fishing and farming and..." She Blushed but Giggled stopping herself

His lips curled into a small smile as he listened to her daydream. Her descriptions of their simple life painted a vivid picture in his mind, one that was almost too perfect. "And what else, Melimina?" he asked, her sudden pause piquing his curiosity. He watched her blush and giggle, knowing there was more to her fantasy than she was letting on.

"it's foolish" she blushed

His smile widened slightly as he noticed her blushing. He took a step closer, intrigued now by what she was hiding. "No, please tell me. I want to know what else you imagine. It's not foolish," he said softly, his voice reassuring and encouraging.

"... I... Imagined ... Looking out the cottage window while making a nice chicken stew, watching the children play with their baby dragons, vermax and starlight flying across the sky hunting sheep, and... You... Walking out in the summer sun ... Shirtless to chop wood for the fire" she Blushed her fingers fiddling with her dragon pin on her dress unable to meet his eyes she was so embarrassed

His eyes widened slightly at her words, a mixture of surprise and amusement on his face. The image she painted was undeniably captivating, and the thought of being the shirtless, wood-chopping, dragon-riding husband in her dream made him feel oddly proud. "Ah... I see," he said, his voice low and tinged with a hint of amusement. He took another step closer, his body almost touching hers now. He reached out and gently took her chin, tilting her head up so she would meet his gaze.

"forgive me I-"

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on hers, gently silencing her with a soft brush of his thumb against her chin. "Don't apologize," he said softly in a low voice, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down her spine. "I... I find it endearing, actually. The image of me as a shirtless, wood-chopping dragon rider, tending to our children and their baby dragons while you make a stew." He chuckled again, his smile still evident in his voice. His hand moved upwards, his fingers caressing her jawline gently. He was now so close to her that he could feel the warmth of her breath, her eyes staring up at him nervously. "It's a beautiful dream, I'll give you that..." he said huskily, his eyes darkened with a mix of desire and affection. His other hand moved to her hip, pulling her slightly closer to him

"but... It is only a dream. We are to rule.. as king and queen someday"

He chuckled wryly, his eyes never leaving hers. He gently tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering on her cheek for a moment. "True... we are destined for greatness. But it doesn't mean we can't have brief moments to indulge in our little fantasies, does it?" His hand on her hip pulled her even closer, their bodies now almost pressed together, his touch firm yet tender. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, intimate whisper. "Imagine it..." he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Me, coming in all hot and sweaty from chopping wood. You, finishing up your chicken stew. Our children and their dragons playing around us, the dragons cuddling in the corner..." His hand on her hip tightened, pulling her flush against him. He leaned down, his mouth hovering just millimeters away from hers, his lips almost touching hers as he continued

she giggled and blushed even harder at the thought

His lips curled into a smile, his eyes darkened with desire as he watched her giggle and blush. He was enjoying this game of theirs, the way she was reacting to his words and his touch. "And after we've had our dinner, I'd take you by the fireplace..." he said huskily, his mouth still close to hers, their faces almost touching. "I'd hold you in my arms, the fire casting shadows on our skin as I kiss your neck, your jaw, your collarbone..." His hand on her hip moved lower, his fingers tracing the curve of her body, his touch sending shudders through her as he continued to describe their fantasy. "I'd kiss you until you're breathless, until you're craving me, until you're begging for me..." he murmured, his lips now tantalizingly close to her ear, his voice low and full of promise.

she giggled again "... I do hope you've put the children to bed before all this"

He let out a soft laugh, his breath warm on her skin. He pulled back slightly, admiring her flushed cheeks and wide eyes. "Oh, I definitely have..." he said, his voice low and seductive. "The little ones are asleep in their beds, dreaming of their baby dragons and tomorrow's adventures. We're all alone in the cozy cottage by the fire..." his hand on her hip moved lower again, gently caressing the curve of her ass.

"ooh-" she gasped glancing at his hands red blush across her cheeks and nose

He chuckled again, noticing the way her eyes darted to his hands. He continued caressing her ass, his fingers tracing lazy circles over the fabric of her dress, his touch firmer now, more possessive. "Are you enjoying these little... fantasies?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He pulled her even closer, his body now pressing snuggly against hers, their hips touching, his lips ghosting over her jawline.

she nodded "we uhh we should... We shouldn't -"

"We shouldn't..." he repeated, mimicking her tone, knowing full well they should stop. His lips traced a path from her jawline down her neck, to her collarbone. "But do we really want to stop?" His hand on her ass pulled her even closer, his body fully pressed against hers now, leaving no space between them at all. He started gently nipping at her skin, trailing kisses along her shoulder and collarbone, enjoying the way she shivered at his touch.

175 notes · View notes

needle-thread-thimble-spear · 4 months

Text

RGU and the Transfeminine, Part 1

Why Miki Kaoru is an Egg

Fig. 1: The Sunlit Garden

When I’d first watched through Revolutionary Girl Utena, Miki Kaoru was initially one of the characters I had the hardest time figuring out. Unlike the other poisoned sibling relationships in the show, Miki and Kozue’s didn’t really make much sense to me. I couldn’t decide how I felt about the character, whether he was “better” somehow than Touga, Saionji, or Akio, or if he was “just as bad”. And of course. What the hell is with that damn stopwatch dude??* Looking at fan writings afterward just deepened the confusion. Everyone seems to have a different opinion on what’s going on with Miki. It’s only after much re-watching, and introspection, that I think I’ve figured out why I’m so conflicted about the character. I’d like to share why- and hopefully along the way I can at least show that Miki is more interesting than many give him credit for. Click the readmore if you please!

(And, to be clear, what is written below is a reading, a blend of evidence from the text, from the subtext, and my own personal experience. I do not claim to be the first to interpret the character this way nor do I claim that this is the definitive read of the character. Nonetheless, I hope I can make my case to you!)

and, a big thank you to @empty-movement for collating all the high quality screengrabs and scans in this post!

Fig 2: Rookie Princes

While I’m not the first to notice, I think it’s frequently overlooked just how similar Utena and Miki are in the first arc. It’s definitely something that flies over the heads of many first-time viewers. But Miki and Utena, are extremely alike! Of course, they are both motivated by an unattainable image of the past, and Miki’s early episodes codify the “sunlit garden” into the RGU symbolic environment. But it’s more than just this. Utena and Miki both treat Anthy in basically the same way. Utena has an easy time convincing Miki that the dueling game is objectifying nonsense. That the principled thing is to leave the whole exercise behind and treat Anthy like a person. It isn’t very hard for Miki to convince Utena to duel him for her hand either. They both view themselves as her personal protector, and (while maybe at different times), both project their imagination of what she must be thinking onto her. Utena does a bit more than Miki to try and figure Anthy out, but it doesn’t take much for her to get swept up in her own image of prince. In both their minds, Anthy needs them to save her. And, when Anthy looks them in the eyes, and tells them. I’m not yours. It destroys them. Freezes them in their tracks, breaks their hearts. Screaming, its a lie, you can’t mean that! Of course they get along so well! They see themselves in one another, plain as day. Little rival princelings, seeking the affections of the same princess, but always with chivalry and good intention.

Fig 3: Heartbreak

But I think there is more to it than that! Miki and Utena (and later Nanami) are some of the youngest duelists (at least, without a black rose anyway). And, they have fairly similar relationships to the other members of the student council. Juri acts as an older friend, mentor, and source of advice for both of them. Its not unlikely that she sees her younger self in the two of them, and while she does very directly take this out on Utena, its her sword that Utena takes to her second duel with Touga. Indeed, Touga manipulates Miki and Utena in unsubtle and sexually aggressive ways, as compared to how he might treat Saionji or Juri. And for both, its their relationship to gender that he directly attacks. He attempts to break Utena’s spirit by turning her “back into a normal girl”, and for Miki he seems to challenge his masculinity. And while this may seem as though the two of them are being shoved in opposite directions, in both cases, Touga hits them in the same place. “You’re a prince then? I don’t think so. Unless you prove it”. Touga isn’t the only one to question Miki’s ability or status. Utena and Juri both tell Miki. You are much more suited to playing piano than dueling. The main difference here is that they tell him this with genuine compassion, but the implication is the same. You aren’t suited to this prince thing. Give it up.

I don’t think it’s just the audience who is conflicted slotting in Miki with the other “men”.

Fig 4: Strange Friends

Much ink has been spilled on Miki and Kozue’s relationship, but I do think there is one thing consistent across readings. There is a power struggle going on between them, and they’ve both got something to hold over the others head. Personally, I don’t believe there is any attraction between them. Rather, What’s Going On With Those Two is their mismatch in understanding their sexuality and the RGU concept of “Reality”, and the friction that creates in their image of themselves and one another. That reading may go as follows. Miki sees Kozue as acting dangerously and immorally. In his mind, she is his responsibility, to keep out of trouble at the very least. Perhaps he sees himself as needing to step in for their absent parents. So he sees himself as the mature and grounded one, a father figure needing to keep the both of them on the straight and narrow. Kozue on the other hand, sees Miki as being essentially blind to Reality (with a capital R). She believes he doesn’t have a good grasp of what sex is, or what adult relationships look like. She may believe that she understands what happened with their parents much better than Miki, and clearly sees that her brother is in danger with his creepy music teacher. So she sees herself as the mature and grounded one, needing to protect her brother both by warding off people who would take advantage of him and by getting him to grow up and see things as they Really are. Without their parents, they feel the need to take care of one another and control how the other approaches their sexuality. But in the end, it does seem that Kozue is the one who is better able to manipulate Miki’s behavior, helping Akio convince him to duel a second time. That Miki needs to grow up and accept what he wants. He sees a vision of Anthy, and he’s driving the akiomobile. And, with fearful realization, he discovers the identity of End of the World.

Fig 5: Fear

So then. Why should Miki be so hung up about his sexuality? It clearly makes him very uncomfortable. And why does he compare the sister he had in the past onto the one he has in the present? What’s so special about that sunlit garden, anyway? What is Miki Kaoru’s shining thing?

Let me spin a yarn, if you'll indulge me-

As far as Miki remembers it, when he was little things were perfect. His parents were still there, and he and his twin sister were thick as thieves. They would play piano together, and drink milkshakes. Things were simple and happy as far as he’s concerned, and while his childhood was not nearly as rosy as he remembers, it was certainly better than whatever he has to deal with now. Now his parents are gone for reasons he doesn’t quite understand, and his sister has drifted away from him and acts promiscuously. His body is starting to change, and it fills him with disgust. Worse still, he finds himself envying his sister for some reason. It all floods him with shame. He needs to fight those feeling with everything he has. Being very clever for his age, he finds himself the youngest member of the student council. He becomes involved with the dueling game as it is revealed to him, and goes along with it, not wanting to act out of place. He gets a crush on Anthy, and is unable to figure out what the hell he should do about it. Later, he meets Utena, and the two become fast friends. And how lucky, his new friend is roommates with his crush! She’s just so perfect. She’s kind, and quiet, and chaste, not at all like his sister. He feels a kinship with her. And in an act of cosmic fate- she plays for him his favorite childhood arrangement. It’s just as Touga says. He can’t let the world get to her, the way its getting to his sister. The way its getting to him. He needs to make sure that Anthy, and his memories, are safe. But alas- it seems she doesn’t feel the same way. She’d rather be with Utena. Hopefully, Utena can protect her where he cannot. Miki and Utena go back to being friends, and he nurses his hurt feelings privately. It wouldn't do to make a scene about it, and besides, it wasn’t appropriate for him to think of her like that anyway. Thinking about anyone like that. He can’t help but feel disgusted with himself for allowing it. Later, his relationship with his sister continues to deteriorate, and his father is remarrying. But he can stick by his principles, and stay out of it all, the dueling especially. Kozue, Touga, and Akio have other plans. He is confronted with Reality, and it terrifies him. He sees himself in the drivers seat, Anthy his. This is what he is now, no point in trying to hide from it. He challenges Utena again, taking an early advantage utilizing his new resolve and Utena’s confusion. But that resolves breaks quickly. What is Kozue doing with Anthy?

Pay attention, or you’ll lose.

Fig 6: Crash!!

Miki is disgusted with himself, his role, because he does not want it. He hates what’s happening to himself and his family. He admires Utena and Juri, for embodying his ideal self. He listens to Touga, puts up with his music teacher, even if they make him feel gross and uncomfortable, because he feels he has to and that he doesn’t have a choice. He idolizes Anthy, so much. He is attracted to her, but maybe there is something more. Maybe, Miki wishes he could be her. Miki, in my mind, is a closeted trans lesbian going through puberty as a boy. I think that part of this might be projection, perhaps. But I hope that I might have made my case using the text of the show. But even if you disagree, I hope that you might have a better appreciation for his character. I think he’s fairly consistently people’s least favorite council member as a character, but honestly he’s my favorite and I think there’s a lot more too him than a lot of people give him credit for.

Fig 7: Three Lesbians Hanging Out

… this all being said. I think it’s interesting that Miki thinks Anthy is the picture of femininity right? That this is what he wants.

In the end, all girls are like the rose bride.

Please wait patiently while I make the case, that while Miki is an egg. Anthy has long since hatched...

(And I do mean be patient! This subject, and the concept that Ohtori represents a transmisogynystic institution at its very core, is WAY more personal than this headcanon, and also is much more of a difficult thing to write for dozens of reasons. I'm still not 100% sure it would even be right of me to post my thoughts on that publicly. But if enough people are interested, maybe that would motivate me to write it!)

*What’s a good Miki essay without some sort of Stopwatch Theory tm? Well (and I freely admit much of this is probably projection, but it’s not just me projecting! It’s also my girlfriend!!), Miki seems to get very wrapped up in his own thoughts. He is very self conscious, takes the criticisms of others very seriously, and also seems to get ideas about How Things Are Going To Happen in his head. He desperately tries to make sense of his surroundings, and finds himself consistently failing to do that. So my guess is the stopwatch is a way for him to regulate and calibrate his thoughts and hypotheses and self image. He picked it up in his duty as council secretary, but its something he feels is significant outside of that. Aha moment? Click. Unexpected end to a council meeting? Click. Something go completely as expected? Click. It helps him process I think. That is my formal Stopwatch Hypothesis tm.

Supplement Fig 1: Stopwatch

#revolutionary girl utena #miki kaoru #utena tenjou #kozue kaoru #juri arisugawa #anthy himemiya #akio ohtori #analysis #spinning #hopefully this essay is readable...

357 notes · View notes

writingwenches · 1 month

Text

Iron Price – fish out of water

summary – small drabble about a House Greyjoy character, dreaming of going to the capitol to be a fancy lady, and taking her life into her own hands.

contains – Reader/You (she/her), no physical description, potential mysteries. Set before or at the beginning of the Dance

pairings – could go with either Team Green princeling, or anyone else if she came to the Red Keep sooner. Let me know if you're interested in this type of character and anything you'd like to see~

You had been trained to pay the iron price, broken by the salt and sweat of the sea. The Iron Islands offered little in the way of comfort, the craggy stone shores, and rocky terrain did not make for an easy ride or leisurely stroll. You were made to work for your pleasures.

While others of the islands spend time reaping and whoring, you find your comfort in life’s simpler work. You take your time on your needlework, even though your mother never required it of you. You learned to read from books of great histories left behind by the Maesters banished from the Keep by your father for questioning his authority and the authors of the Drowned God.

You weren’t sure what you believed, other than your fondness for maps. You have sailed the oceans of the world through the tapestries and scrolls, treasured by the Greyjoy fleet. New and updated maps from all over the known, and unknown world, flowed into the Keep with every tide.

You could only imagine what treasures hid behind the walls of a real keep. A real castle, not some spit of stones in the sorrowful sea, surrounded by rocks and grey, but rather the grandness of the Red Keep in Kingslanding, surrounded by flying dragons and handsome lords.

You were on a voyage in the cold and unforgiving north when you heard news of your father’s death, a long and treacherous one lead by your elder brother, The Red Kraken. He immediately ordered his fleet home, to claim his rightful place on the Salt Throne, as was his birthright.

Your brother sat upon the Seastone Chair and called you and your younger sister before him. You were all so similar in ages, your childhood had been tangled together as Dalton had aged. You had grown custom to following his orders, as a faithful crewmate to the fierce captain.

He had been the one to make fun of you for your likes of girlish things, tossing your embroidery overboard whenever he found you hiding it from the other crew. He knew of your desires, and he denied you anyway.

“The Crown has sent a raven, all the way from King’s Landing,” he laughed, admiring the fancy paper, curled up tightly into a scroll. “They offer me a position on their councils, and a place in their halls.” It was clear that your brother had no intention of bending any knees and wearing fancy dress.

“Dacey,” the new Lord Greyjoy mentioned to your younger sister, “you shall sail to King’s Landing with our answer. You can offer yourself to them, take a salt husband, whatever you wish, I care not–“

“Brother!” you pleaded, “You know it has been my wish to–“

He stopped you, not interested in what you had to say. “You are too valuable to loose, sister. You follow my orders too well,” he smiled a toothless grin, “I could not hope to lose you.”

You knew him to be cruel, you were a lowly member of the crew, only fit to scrub the deck and wrap the sails. Your brother mocked you, not allowing you to follow your dream.

“Brother, please,” you try to bargain with him, try to make him see reason. “I could be an asset to you, I could sail to the capitol in your stead, I could represent House Greyjoy–“

“You!” he shouted, rising from his place on the Seastone Chair. “Are not fit to call yourself Greyjoy, you have not earned the name.”

“And yet my sister younger has?” he challenge, turning your ire onto the girl.

“You are simply jealous!” she countered, knowing it to be true in her bones. “You are not true iron born. I bet mother bedded some weak landwalker to come up with something as ugly as–“

You struck your sister with your closed palm, aiming for her nose but hitting her eye. The two girls scrapped at one another until their brother pulled them apart. “My word is final!” he demanded, putting an end to the womanly foolishness.

—

“Presenting, Lady Dacey, of House Greyjoy, envoy from the Iron Islands,” the booming voice called as you are ushered into the great throne room of the Red Keep. It was more glorious and wondrous than you could have ever imagined. The hall was so high, you could practically imagine a dragon flying beneath the domed roof. The columns were carved with detailed conjurings of battles won with dragon fire and blood.

The ladies were all dressed in gowns so fine and fashionable, you could hardly stop yourself from reaching out and feeling each unique fabric your eyes had never seen before.

You had arrived, at your new life. You had made it. And you had paid the Iron Price.

“Your Grace,” you bow before the King of the Seven Kingdoms. “It is truly an honor,” you smile. “I can not wait to serve you in any way I can.”

“It is good to see an Iron Islander in their rightful place, on their knees before the throne,” the eldest brother said, his eyelids heavy as he gazed down at you.

“Your namesake changed our traditions, yes,” you spoke, your head still bowed respectfully. “We only bow to one king, and he sits upon the Iron Throne.”

75 notes · View notes

narraboths · 11 days

Text

[inspired in great part though very obliquely by this iconic piece of fanart]

“You must make a good impression, daughter. And take care of the company you keep.”

She has to keep reminding herself of her father's words, to stand tall and smile, dutiful and pleasant, and not to pick at her nails. It is a royal ball, after all. The first in ten years that Lord Otto Hightower has been graciously invited to, recalled to court and to his seat on the Council. A triumphant, joyful return by all measures.

Alicent, as ever, is ill at ease.

She’s never quite gotten used to the Red Keep during the last of the old king’s reign. It’s a queer place, too young, too great, too foul already. Even now, with its great hall all illuminated, the walls reverberating with the sound of music and laughter, it feels dark, suffocating, the twisted shadow of the Iron Throne looming large on its walls. In Oldtown, there’s wisdom and piety at court, in Highgarden, chivalry and grace. Here, she’s only met with the dragonlords’ lewd, alien splendor.

And she faces it alone.

(There was, once, the princess Rhaenyra, then a scrawny, silver-haired menace. Alicent recalls brief flashes, a wide, toothy grin, her brazen tone, the petulant pout when admonished, the little bronze dragon perched on her shoulders, then later padding after her through the court. The enraptured, curious look of blue-violet eyes, listening to Alicent’s reading. It was long ago. It’s Crown Princess now, a woman grown, and wilder still than the Rogue Prince, or so the whispers that reach the Hightower from the ports say. Dragon’s blood, King Viserys is said to jest. Alicent tries to pay just as little mind to their tales as little Rhaenyra must be thinking about her. There must be graver things for the kingdom’s heir to think about than daughters of disgraced courtiers.)

Time passes slowly. Lords and ladies come to welcome her with their honeyed barbs, lordlings and squires ask for a dance and squeeze her hand too tight, all sweaty and overeager to ingratiate themselves with the newly-made Hand’s daughter. Alicent nods and listens and smiles and charms, always gentle and always delightful as her father would wish, until her cheeks hurt and her face feels like a rigid, half-cracked mask. She feels the court’s cold, prying eyes on her, knows how they must be seizing her up, measuring, judging. A good impression.

Yet there’s something else, too, a different gaze that she sometimes meets, the eyes of a lean, pale figure from across the hall, standing in the circle of a gaggle of courtiers. They follow her with such piercing intensity that she feels her face burn. (In confusion, surely. Embarrassment.)

She takes refuge by a pillar in the end, sinking into its shadow. She doesn’t even realize when she starts picking at her nails again. She only knows that suddenly, there’s blood running down her finger and she hisses in pain, almost tearing her handkerchief in her hasty attempt to cover it.

“You have not changed one bit.”

She flinches, shirks away from the unexpected company – or would, but there’s a hand wrapped around her wrist, gentle but firm, holding her in place. A laugh, low and delighted.

Alicent looks up. Her captor is the pale stranger – a youth clad in the royal red-and-black, a mess of short, silver-white hair framing a handsome face, lighting up with amusement as they watch her stammer and squirm. Not Daemon, not one of the Velaryons, certainly, not…

“I did not use to give you such fright.” They grin at her dazed stare, mischievous and eerily familiar, squeezing Alicent’s hand carefully, pressing the handkerchief just tightly enough against the bleeding scratch. “Not just by seeking you out, that is.”

“Rhaenyra.”

The name is half-sighed, half-choked. The world is spinning. There is so little of the bony, bratty child she once knew in the princeling – princess standing now in front of her, half a head taller than Alicent, wide-shouldered, dashing, that Alicent can hardly believe it. But the princess is smiling even wider now, all bright, brash joy, and that sight itself is more achingly familiar than any superficial mark.

“The Hand has hidden you from us for far too long. I could not yet ride Syrax when you went away, do you remember? She’s large enough now to saddle two.” She’s holding Alicent’s hand, still, drawing it closer to her, close enough that Alicent’s knuckles brush against the buttons of her doublet. It is not strange, surely, the Crown Princess talking to the daughter of the Hand like that. No-one should think that unseemly. “I hope your father does not mean to deprive our court from your presence once again. I should take very dim view of it.”

Her gaze is warm still, but her tone drops strangely deep, enough to make Alicent shiver. She casts down her eyes.

“My father has meant no offense, Princess.”

That earns, startlingly, only a scoff.

“None of that, my lady of Hightower. You know me.”

Alicent’s face burns. “I’ve known you once.”

Rhaenyra lets go of her hand. Alicent’s heart sinks, for a second – then Rhaenyra’s fingers wrap around her chin, instead, tilting her head back ever so slightly, gently, until they are eye to eye once more.

“You will know me again.”

#rhaenicent #my fic #once in a while you just have to say: what the fuck ever #tonal coherence? point of narrative? in MY fuckass ficlets?

127 notes · View notes

themotherofhorses · 2 years

Note

Vic!! I have a request pretty pls hehehe,

Creepy dark! Aemond forcing his way with fem!reader as she sleeps after stalking him for many moons? PWEASEEE

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.

pairing: soft but dark!aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. nsfw smut. slight breeding kink towards the end. consented abduction. aemond is (as usual) obsessive and possessive but is actually kinda a sweetheart in this.

notes: ok so small thing: i kinda put my own twist to this request, because this sort of idea has lived in my head RENT FREE since forevvaaa. hope u enjoy it :)

masterlist

Dragonstone was quiet when arrived, the sea tide calm and peaceful.

Aemond Targaryen could not remember the last time he stepped foot in the castle, if he ever did at all, having spent the entirety of his life behind the bronze doors of the Red Keep. He did not care for the damned island, nor did he hold any love for its people, but his twentieth nameday was fast approaching, and his mother was insisting more and more that he take a wife soon.

“Now, where will you be,” he mumbles to himself as he rips off his riding gloves and tucks them into his belt.

The castle hallways were without light, and no houseguards stood afoot. Aemond smirks. It would be much easier for him to find you, tucked away in your own chamber.

Your personal chamber was nicely furnished, in the colors and style of your shared noble house, and had an aura belonging only to a Targaryen princess. Thick wool carpets covered the floor instead of harsh black stone, and your windows were cracked open just a little, with pretty drapes swaying from the light ocean breeze. The walls were hung with different tapestries, all of horses and dragons, and the doors were flanked by Valyrian sphinxes.

And to the corner was your bed, where you, his niece, lay atop, fast asleep.

Aemond wills his heart to continue beating, and for his cock to behave.

He has not laid eyes on you in almost a full decade, ten years too long for him. Both your parents whisked you away to Dragonstone when you were still a child, soft-faced and in the mid of girlhood.

They refused his mother’s offer for a betrothal between the two of you, and broke his heart to the tiniest of pieces that he wondered if they were still scattered around the Keep. But that was so many moons ago, and time slipped by him.

“Gods be good,” Aemond whispers, moving closer.

What has happened to that little girl, that kid niece of his? In her place sleeps a living goddess, too lovely for mankind. You’ve grown beautiful, a mirror image to your mother, his eldest sister. He bends to kiss your bare shoulder- just a simple and tiny kiss- and you stir in your sleep. It is cute, he admits, but he also can not wait another second longer.

Only the gods above know how much he’s wanted you.

With a hard yank, Aemond draws back the bedsheet covers, causing you to jolt up from the bed. You look around, confused and scared and still half-asleep, purple eyes clouding from drowsiness. In front of you sits a stranger, a man- silver-haired and cloaked in black riding leather. Across his eye, an eyepatch.

Your heart quickens at the sight. “Aemond…?” you call out, unsure.

He smiles, teeth and all. “You do not know how happy it makes me to know you are still able to recognize me, my niece. After all, it has been awhile- ten years, has it not?”

You shrug, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes. “What…what are you doing here?” you ask, while patting down the bed, looking for the sheets to cover your chest. “Should you not be at King’s Landing? Why are you here?” Your eyes grow as wide as a dinner plate as you soon add, “Oh no, has something happened? Is it my grandfather?”

But Aemond scoots closer, bringing his face to yours. “Do not fret, nice. I’m here on my own wishes,” and he twirls a thin strand of silver hair around his finger, humming as he watches it fall back around your shoulder. In that sheer Dornish nightgown, you look good enough to eat, and the princeling is feeling beyond ravenous.

“I’m here to collect a debt.”

Lucerys…you think, a sinking feeling in your chest. His stolen eye, that night on Driftmark…

Ten years and Aemond still seeks revenge.

“No,” Aemond says, shaking his head. He moves even closer, grabbing at your shoulders. His palms are rough and callous. “I would dare not hurt you. Anyone but you. You…” he sighs, “-you were promised to me, back when we were children. You were meant to be my wife, and they stole you from me. The only good fucking thing in my life, and it was taken away…”

He studies you, his eye running across your face, down your neck and to your chest.

That Dornish nightgown clings loose to your body, and he can see your nipples perk against the fabric. It sends blood rushing between his thighs. “Tell me, niece, what did I do to deserve that?”

“Aemond…”

“No!” he hisses, tightening his grip on you. “No! You have not the slightest idea of the fucking torture I’ve endured these years. The nights I stayed up, begging to the gods that I might have you. I thought…maybe if they heard my pleas, saw my faith, they would…but no. Ten years, and not a single glimpse of you.” Your breath hitches when he meets your gaze, “I dreamt of you, every damned night. Fought the urges to fly over and collect you from here…”

You shake your head. “Aemond…” you say, softly. “I’m betrothed to another, this cannot be.” You press your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch, and kiss his forehead. “I have missed you greatly, uncle, but it has been years! So many years. I’m to be married soon.” You pull back, “It is best if you return home, and start finding a lady of your own choosing.”

Aemond sighs, and inside his chest, he feels his heart being ripped apart again.

“You are right, my dearest niece. My sincerest apologies for waking you up, it was quite wrong of me. I shall see myself out,” and he kisses your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish you all the luck in your marriage, and may your husband love and appreciate you till the dying days of his damned life.”

You smile at him, though a bit sad now. “Thank you, uncle. To you as well.”

The princeling turns to leave, and you sit up watching as he makes his way to your door, before sinking back into your bed. “Goodbye, Aemond,” you call out, one final time before your eyes close, failing to see him pause and turn around to look at you.

What was he doing? Foolish man, he thinks. Foolish, stupid man!

Was it in his nature to admit defeat so easily, and to some unnamed wastrel cunt of a man? No. Throughout his life, Aemond suffered nothing but tremendous losses, while being denied the goodness and fairness that a child should’ve had. His lips pucker at the thought.

You were right there, close enough for him to finally claim.

And so he did.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Aemond tuts next to your ear, a heavy arm slung over your naked breasts as he holds you as close to his chest as possible. It feels as if he is frightened to let you go, worried you would disappear before his very eye, with another ten years slipping by until he finds you again.

His other hand lies between your trembling thighs, fingering you with such an intensity and speed that it leaves you utterly ruined and in tears. “Aemond…” you hiccup, nibbling at your bottom lip as he groans. “Fuck! You sound so good when you say my name like that. Gods be good, you are wet. Absolutely soaking my fingers. Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, using his thumb to rub at your clit. “Yeah…it does, doesn’t it?”

You sniffle, fat tears streaking down both cheeks as you nod.

Oh, it feels good. So good, but so wrong as well.

You were to be married in less than a fortnight, to a highborn lord of House Stark, handsome and kind. How would you explain this to him? Or to your parents, who proposed the marriage between you two? How would you tell them that you were ruined? And it was your uncle’s fault.

“Please, Aemond…”

Aemond grabs at your jaw, cradling it in his hand before pulling it close to his face. “Shhh, it will be alright, my love. Do not fret. You will be okay, just give in,” he whispers, quickening his fingers as he fucks them into you, curling two to hit your sweet spot. You almost scream, so overcome with pleasure that it hurts. “This is where you are meant to be, darling, make no mistake in believing that. My bride, my love.”

My woman, he thinks gleefully, watching how your face scrunches up. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth press together in a tight line, and it is the most beautiful sight.

My woman, made for me. Made for my love and protection and seed…

Goosebumps prickle along your arms as wet sounds echo across the chamber, followed by a strew of whimpers and moans. It sounds so dirty, so sinful and wrong that you pray to whichever god was listening in that no one would overhear such, especially your parents and siblings. Your father would have Aemond’s head, no doubt, and your older brother might rob him of his only other good eye.

“Oh, fuck…” you moan, flinging your head back, “-don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

A minute or so later, your vision blackens, the room spins, and your jaw slacks as you cum plenty around his fingers, all with such a high-pitched shriek that Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “What did I say? Stay quiet!” he hisses before chuckling, smearing the mess around your folds while you make an attempt to catch your breath. “Very good, my love. You did so well for me.”

He brings a finger to his mouth, to suck at the taste. “Your taste is heavenly,” he moans, swirling his tongue around it. He then brings two to your mouth, swiping at the tiny bit of drool pooling before stuffing them in. “Suck. Taste yourself now.”

“Dirty girl,” Aemond hums, a smirk curving on his lips as he watches the way you lick and suck at his fingers. “You are digging a grave too deep to escape, darling.”

Ruin me, you want to say. If I’m to die, I rather it be in your hands than anyone else’s…

He lays you back down on the bed next, making sure your head rests comfortably against the pillows. Ten years, Aemond reminds himself. Ten fucking years. He can feel his resolve slowly weakening by the second. You’re too beautiful, too soft and womanly and perfect for him. Every fantasy he dreamt up during boyhood never claim as close as to this. “I dreamt of this for fucking years,” he admits while kissing your pink and pouty lips. “All the possible ways to take you, to fuck this pretty cunt of yours.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you. It is painful- undeniably painful- yet he swallows every cry and wince and moan that you give. Your fingernails dig into his skin from the terrible pain- the stretch and the sting and the weird feeling growing deep within your tummy.

“It is too much…!” you whimper against his lips. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, darling, it is your first time. Every woman hurts when a man takes her first blood. But you can take it.”

“No,” you whine, trying to shove him away. “No, Aemond, it hurts too much-” But Aemond only kisses your temple, sweet and gentle and lovingly, while rocking his hips against yours. “It’ll feel so good soon, my love, trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, not my precious and sweet girl,” he coos, leaning to rub your noses together, “-my brave girl.”

Ten years.

He could not stop, even if he wished to. No, not now that he finally has you, underneath his body and wet and ripe for his seed.

“I’ll give you our child,” he mutters beside your lips as he pinches your nipple between two fingers and keeps his thrusts hard, deep, and fast. All of it makes your face twist in a soft gasp, your body tightening as you feel that thick rush of pleasure from before, right before you creamed over his fingers.

“Take my seed and have our child. I promise to take you back to King’s Landing and marry you," he vows through ragged breaths, "and spend the rest of our lives making up for those ten years.”

“Aemond,” you pant, clutching onto his shoulders and dragging his face down for a kiss. His skin is sweaty and flushed, and he has never appeared so beautiful before. You love him. You love him so much, how did you spend ten years without seeing him? It makes no sense. You understand his woes now, clear as day, and you want to rid of them forever.

“I love you! I love you, I love you, make me your wife, please. Please!”

He feels your cunt tightening around his cock, and he is ready to give you everything: his heart, his soul, and his seed.

Come the morning, his son will be swelling within your belly, and he will have you seated atop Vhagar, flying back to the Keep to make you his wife, in both the eyes of the gods and the laws of the land.

The next day, at dawning, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter does not join her family to break fast together. Her three half-brothers and two half-sisters raise eyebrows as they munch quietly on their meals but keep silent, all until little Joffrey asks where his older sister might be. Rhaenyra does not know, and neither do the houseguards, the men of the small council, and the maesters, and it worries her greatly.

Her husband, though, is quick to remind her that the princess- ever their trueborn child- enjoys morning rides on dragonback. “Give her a few hours and she will surely return with a new story to tell us,” Daemon says, while sipping on his wine.

But a few hours turn into the rest of the day, and soon evening creeps by.

A raven arrives from King’s Landing, bearing the family a note:

“I’ve taken what was owed to me. Such a pity you all forgot that what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond targaryen x you #dark aemond targaryen #aemond smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #request #vic writes 🧸

2K notes · View notes

ellewod · 1 month

Note

Why is jace x aegon so shippable to me 😭😂 they have so few scenes together and my brain just keeps whispering sensually to me ✨❤️potential ❤️✨

because they DO have potential and characters don’t need many scenes to prove it 🤫

they’re essentially the same. the eldest sons of two highly ambitious (well, show!alicent used to be) women who are willing to make any sacrifice. one sacrifices her son’s autonomy and his wish to not have the crown forced upon his head. the other sacrifices her son’s self-worth by handing what her son believes to be his only justification to become king one day over to commoners. they both plead with their mothers and they both lose.

both aegon and jacaerys can be kind and funny, while at the same time feeling a lot of negative emotions. they feel disrespected by those around them (otto as aegon’s hand, ulf as commoner made dragonrider), belittled (king without authority and coddled princeling) and unheard by those they deeply care about; their mothers.

both have daddy issues. aegon is disinherited by his father who does not even look him in the eye. viserys shows openly how little he cares for aegon, calls rhaenyra his "only child".

jace loved his father (he was gentle and fierce. they called him breakbones. he loved us i think), but he was never allowed to admit it, as harwin was not his official one. and then he died cruelly and was replaced by a man who fathered jace’s half-brothers who look like perfect targaryen princes. the complete opposite of jace’s looks…

they love their dragons, they care for their families. aegon lies in driftmark to protect alicent ”we know, father. just look at them“, jacaerys would kill and die for his brothers.

they’re also essentially two sides of the same coin, as one of them desperately tries to be the perfect targaryen prince, a worthy heir, while his looks betray that he is not — while the other so openly rejects his heritage, his long fair hair, the language of his ancestors, his duties, YET still tries to be good king once he is forced to embrace the role.

they were childhood buddies, they had fun together, they spent time together. even now, jace refers to him as aegon, not the usurper.

aegon on the other hand, does not seem to remember any of his nephews, but the one.

where does this not scream potential?

#jacegon #aegon ii targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #inbox #im sorry whoops 😂

72 notes · View notes

marthawrites · 8 months

Text

Red Lions and Hidden Dragons

Unnamed male character x Lannister!fem reader & Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!fem reader

Word count: 2.9k+

About: Close kin to Jason and Tyland Lannister, you arrive to King's Landing with a party of fellow lions to celebrate the birth of Prince Maelor Targaryen. You weren't expecting to catch Prince Aemond's eye, but once you do, neither of you can forget it.

Includes: SMUT. This is porn with plot to set it up. Featuring lust at first sight, allusions to obsession (from reader and aemond), voyeurism, unprotected vaginal sex, male masturbation, allusions to exhibitionism, stalking, male receiving oral sex, reader receiving oral sex, minor degradation, vaginal fingering, and somnophilia

Note: Hello lovely reader! This might be one of the filthiest things I've written. Double warning: This fic is heavy on the voyeurism and Aemond is a creep. If you do not like that then do not read this. Reader is a Lannister and is implied to have blonde hair. Everything else is up to you! Reader's lover is implied to have ginger hair. Everything else about him is up to you. As always, I hope you enjoy this (filth)!

Golden sunlight warmed your honey curls as they cascaded down your back in gentle waves. Following close behind was a guard armored in the colors of House Lannister. A woman walked beside you who also donned your House's colors in a more practical attire–sword not included. “Is it everything you wanted it to be?” She asked you with bright curiosity as her gaze swept over the Red Keep's gardens.

Spring's blooms weighed heavily in the air and if it weren't for a forgiving breeze all of those fragrances would be unbearable. Your nose tickled with an edge of a sneeze you could never quite expel. “It's absolutely lovely,” you replied with a happy sigh, leaning into your friend and lady-in-waiting. “Although… if I don’t go inside soon my eyes will be pinker than a pig’s bottom and leakier than a cracked chalice.”

She laughed. “I can bring supper up to your chamber if needed. Sneezing on any one in the royal family could be punishable by death!” She gasped with feigned severity.

You rolled your eyes. “The only one I’m worried about sneezing on is Princess Helaena. With her little Maelor only being just born the last thing she–and he–needs is extra germs.”

You and your family, closely related to King Viserys’ Master of Ships, Tyland Lannister, had only arrived this morning. It had been a long trip. Jason Lannister, Tyland’s elder twin, sent a party of lions to King’s Landing to celebrate the little princeling's birth. “Perhaps you will catch the eye of a lord–or Prince–while you’re there,” he had whispered to you with a wink upon your departure.

Politicking had never been your strong suit. Would it truly be so wrong to marry someone for happiness instead of glory, lands, and wealth? You thought not, but the rest of your family thought yes.

“If the Princess even attends a public dinner,” she answered slyly.

With a light-hearted shrug you looked over your shoulder and asked the knight, “Ser? Do you remember the way back to the Great Hall?”

“I do, Lady Lannister. Ready to return?”

“We are.”

Once inside the Red Keep you immediately felt better. No more tickly nose, or itchy eyes, or scratchy ears. You arrived back just in time, too! Judging by the collection of people and their plates, supper had been served only a short time ago. You and your lady found a seat where you could. Nodding a polite greeting to Tyland, you sat and fixed a plate. While politicking wasn’t one of your strong suits, people watching was.

You ate, and you watched.

Who observed the watcher?

Smearing creamy butter on a still warm roll, you tried to keep tabs on the conversations around you. Truthfully, it was half a bore. Sooner than later it all jumbled to indistinct murmurings. Paying half attention at best, and once you finished all the savory flavors of meats and potatoes, you helped yourself to fruit for a sweet palate cleanser. Wonderfully ripened berries and crisp grapes took over your senses. On one particular juicy bite–when you barely covered your mouth in time to catch a dribble of springtime strawberry juice–a blush rose to your cheeks as your gaze swept over the crowd to see if anyone witnessed your etiquette mishap.

A few seats down, and across the table, the glint of a single violet eye danced with your mishap.

Aemond Targaryen. Prince Aemond Targaryen. Your napkin nearly slipped from your fingers as you realized he watched, and saw, and didn’t turn away from your guilty gaze. His one seeing eye trailed from your chin, down the front of your bodice, and back up to your face. The combination of his perfectly neutral facade and naturally bowed mouth made him impossible to read. But the glint in his eye? You swore it gave away his amusement. Perhaps even something more.

The blush in your cheeks dispersed–spreading and lowering–and with a delicate curve of your mouth you gave the King’s second silver-haired son an entirely different look. With extra care, now, you bit into a plump grape, daring to hold his gaze. Your heart hammered with anticipation and excitment and part of you wondered if he could see the pulsepoint in your neck thumping.

He squinted at you; so slight you might have missed it.

Desire roared in your belly.

It was nearly the end of the hour of ghosts when Aemond made his way to the library on silent feet. The castle was quiet except for a few guards and servants carrying out night shift duties. He paid them little mind as he walked with a small stack of books tucked beneath his arm. Sleep eluded him. Even reading did little to settle his mind. He thought, with a hint of hopefulness, that a walk might allow him to finally relax.

A slight squeak of door hinges was the only sound announcing his arrival. It seemed no matter how many times it was oiled it always squeaked. Most of the time it didn’t matter much. But, on late nights like this, it made Aemond feel as if he interrupted something holy. Sacred.

He’d always been a studious boy–so much so that it followed him into adulthood. Perhaps that is why he felt a pang of guilt upon midnight arrivals; he found as much solace in this place as he did the training yard. Sometimes he had half a mind to bring a pillow and blanket here to sleep in one of the chairs, the floor, or, more comfortably, a settee.

Quietly, out of habit, he walked between the rows of books, tomes, and scrolls, and placed each piece of borrowed literature in its place. Before he truly heard anything, the fine hairs along his neck stood. His pupil widened to take in the dark. A little voice in his head told him to stay quiet and look.

A phantom? He hadn’t felt the fright of ghost stories for a long, long time.

But, no, it wasn’t a thing of nightmares lurking in darkened corners of this peaceful place that caught his attention. It was someone. And, judging by the sounds that perked the fine muscles behind his ears, it was more than one person.

Soft sounds made their way to Aemond’s ears as he stalked on silent feet. Heavy breathing. An inward hiss of breath. A muffled voice–low and sultry–sent his cock stirring to life in his pants. And then, right at the peak of a barely contained moan, a giggle.

Staying to the shadows Aemond peered around a bookshelf and what he saw knocked the wind out of his lungs. A woman–not just any woman, but you–straddled over the lap of a man with your skirts bunched up around your waist. The chair creaked beneath your combined weight, its legs thumping against the rug-covered floor with the force in which you rode him–in which he bucked up into you. Aemond saw why you giggled and a hot rush of blood flew up to his head and down to his cock alike. Your breasts were free from your crimson supper gown and they bounced as you fucked whosever cock it was that you were riding. One of the man’s hands squeezed a mound of your soft, perfect tits, letting it bounce against his palm as his mouth sucked your other nipple.

Stepping further back into the shadows, Aemond, as discreetly as he could, moved a few books upon the shelf so he could watch between the newly formed gap. He had the best–truly the best–sight of you. Your cheeks were colored so prettily, lips parted in the epitome of bliss, and your eyelids fluttered as you ground down against him. Aemond saw your hand push through and squeeze your lover’s ginger hair as he nipped and suckled over your peaked nipples.

“Think anyone will show up here?” You asked, rolling your hips against him in a gloriously wonderful grind.

If Aemond were any further away he wouldn't be able to hear you. His ears were perked right to you, however, and he heard your voice–all raspy with pleasure. He palmed at his cock over his pants, the bulge prominent and uncomfortable in its confides.

“If you keep being loud I bet someone will,” he teased before kissing you. He gripped your hips firmly with both hands and began to coax you up and down on him again. Before you could break away from the kiss those same soft sounds from before filled the air. This time they were louder, sharper, both of you chasing pleasure to climax. “Can't believe you wanted me to fuck you here tonight. Of all places in this big castle. Shit–Gods, yes, keep bouncing like that. Keep fucking bouncing like that.”

You barely held your moans back and the little ones that slipped free had Aemond palming at himself firmer. Your moans, and slapping skin, and bouncing tits had the prince dizzy with desire.

How in the actual Hells was this happening?

He nearly spent in his pants when climax washed over you. You were so lovey, and so perfect, and so greedy with your need it made Aemond want to tie your lover up and fuck you right there too.

You could take it. He knew you could. You'd be debauched enough to take two men and still claw at them for more.

Your lover's seed covered your belly in a splattered mess and Aemond nearly groaned out loud.

He'd lingered too long. He shouldn't have even stayed like he did–should have left as soon as he realized what was happening. But that didn't stop him then and it didn't stop him now as he lingered behind for an extra moment, watching you fix your clothes back into place.

The edge of your desire was finally sated. For now, at least. With a satisfied sigh you smiled and tilted your head, looking down at your lover while he whispered something to you. You laughed and rolled your eyes.

That's when you saw him. What? No… it couldn't be! The shadow of the prince just there! Just behind that book shelf.

Aemond side stepped and ducked slightly. Shit shit shit. But it was too late.

“I think I saw someone,” you gasped with an excited warble to your tone.

Whatever else you said, or whatever your reaction might have been, would remain a mystery. That's all Aemond heard before slipping out of the main doorway–the door's squeak the only evidence that anyone else had been in the library.

As much as Aemond wanted to see you during the morning meal, he didn't want to risk it. Would you squirm in your seat beneath his gaze, or would he beneath yours?

Once finished, he exerted himself in the training yard–the image of your blissed out face and bouncing tits still seared onto his mind.

Fuck.

How long were you visiting the Red Keep? Surely Aemond would go mad before long.

After training and before lunch, the prince found himself loitering along a balcony that faced the gardens. It was a quiet spot, one not often frequented, and it served as a perfect place for him to relax and collect his thoughts after training. It proved to be an uneventful rest until a glimmer of golden hair and red breezy gown caught his attention from below.

You.

He stared, watching like a hawk from above. You were on the arm of the same man from last night. Based on his attire Aemond recognized him to be one of the Lannister servants.

Pathetic. The man was a servant. Not a husband, or betrothed, or even someone worth your name. You were a loose wanton thing. Licentious. Aemond watched you drag your male servant off the main pathway until you were out of sight.

And then, on a jolt of lust filled curiosity, he grabbed a nearby spyglass and looked for you again.

A few minutes passed before he saw you through the reflective lens. And when he did the front of his pants immediately became tighter.

Hidden amongst the garden's layout you and your secret lover kissed and touched and pressed together. He saw your mouths move with words he wished he could hear. You were light and playful and eager. Fuck–so eager.

Aemond watched as you sunk down to your knees and pulled his cock out. You took it in your mouth over and over, again and again, like you’d wanted nothing more than to have him in your throat.

Did you enjoy this more, you pretty little whore? Or did your red headed lover?

Aemond's need screamed for friction–for anything–but he remained painfully hard and untouched as he watched, not wanting to miss a single second.

Time ticked by so slowly, so quickly, and before long Aemond saw you swallow, smiling up at your lover as he tucked his spent, softening cock back into his pants. You turned your head, then, looking along the balconies, and Aemond barely had time to step out of sight.

You saw his silver hair and the reflective glare of his spyglass in the late morning sun.

The prince wasn’t half as sly as he thought.

You barely spoke to Viserys’ second-son–barely knew him–yet it did little to stifle the lust drowning your blood.

Two days had passed before Aemond caught you for a third time. Duties kept him busy and he wasn’t able to stalk around the castle after you.

The first time he stumbled across you had been a complete accident. So had the second time. Well… mostly. If he hadn’t caught sight of you entering the gardens he wouldn’t have begun spying on you from the balcony.

The third time, however? He hoped for it.

Might have even prayed for it.

Watching from within the safety of a slim corridor behind the room’s main wall, Aemond peeked through a series of small holes specifically made for spying; servants and their incessant prying. You were sitting in a chair with your legs draped over each arm. Your male servant knelt between your spread legs and feasted on your cunt. His soft groans and slurps, combined with all of your sweet gasps and moans, made the sounds of Aemond freely stroking his cock nearly non-existent.

It was too much. Too fucking much.

You were too perfect. Putting on a show for him and everything. He knew you liked being watched. Why else would you be taunting him, luring him, snaring him in your lewd traps time and time again?

The man slipped his fingers into you while staying on your clit, and the way you tugged at his hair sent Aemond biting down on his lip.

“So sexy like this,” the ginger’s raspy voice rumbled up at you. “So sweet and tight.”

You sighed and giggled, turning his face back against you. “I'm not done. Keep going,” you said, sultry.

He did and you lost yourself.

But before you could finish he asked, “shall I wear an eyepatch next time? Lean into your little fantasy with the prince?”

“Gods, yes.”

He worked you with fingers and tongue again, pushing you to the edge of pleasure. “Say his name. No one is around to hear. The one eyed prince here, right now, eating your sweet cunt.”

You squeezed both hands in his hair and came undone; a tiny, shuddered, “Aemond..!” escaped your lips at the peak of your climax.

Aemond's cock pulsed mightily in the choke of his hand; streaks of his seed dripped down the finished wooden wall. He had to have you.

It was the hour of the owl when Aemond prowled into your chamber. You looked peaceful sleeping, so pretty.

He stood at the side of your bed, head tilted slightly as he looked down at you replaying all the visions of you in his head over again. The backs of his fingers traced along the slope of your face; silken. He dipped lower, sliding down the curve of your neck and across your exposed collarbone. You didn't yet stir and so he slid lower. The swell of your breasts were wonderfully soft beneath your thin shift; nipples peaked beneath.

You teased him even in slumber.

He gently squeezed the mound–testing the suppleness of your body–and reveled in the sensation. With curious delight he pinched the bud and smirked when a small sound hummed between your lips. He did it again. Harder. Your nipples pebbled tighter and saliva built in Aemond's mouth.

That made you stir. Your eyelids trembled over your eyes as if you'd startle awake.

Aemond's hand sunk beneath your blanket and whispered up your smooth thigh. Within the span of a few breaths he found the waist of your smallclothes and tugged the ribbons open. His heartbeat thundered. He couldn’t help it. He had to know. Grazing his fingers lower, still, he ghosted over that delicate space between your thighs. You were warm through the thin cloth of your smallclothes. Insanity threatened to take him over.

Again, you stirred. And this time your eyes fluttered open. Those pretty pools widened and for a moment you couldn’t tell if you were still dreaming, or if this was truly happening.

Prince Aemond. In your room. How did he get in? You’d lusted for him since arriving. Now, here he was; perhaps the Gods indeed answered prayers.

“Shh,” he hushed, fingers lifting to his lips to shush you further; a smirk visible at the corners of his mouth. “Why pretend when you can have the real thing, lady Lannister?”

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @aemondtarqaryens @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @aemonddtargaryen @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fic #aemond smut #aemond imagine

362 notes · View notes

sayafics · 2 months

Text

Dragon of Dorne - Chapter V

A/N:: GUESS WHO'S BACK!! Missed you guys so much, but here is the next chapter of many to come. I hope you enjoy xxxx

I apologise for the long wait, but I do hope this chapter is worth it. Don't be afraid to comment your thoughts, opinions, and any ideas you might have for future chapters!!

Previous Chapter

Masterlist

The sound of cutlery filled the room, the air was tense and soured with quiet breaths and flitting gazes.

It was sickening, stifling- suffocating.

Had Daemon not been dragged to join the Hightower litter by the grazing touches of the brown-eyed Targaryen and his mind full of unfounded whispers, perhaps he would have up and left without a second glance.

Instead, he found himself confined within Alicent's chambers, sat at a grand table with Alaynha to his left, and Aegon to his right.

When he arrived trailing behind the girl, watching as she fidgeted with her dress and her hands, he had greeted Ser Cole with a vicious grin when he gazed upon his face as he crossed into the room.

The knight stood at the far corner of the room, back straight and eyes trained ahead until his gaze caught Daemon's form. He had to hold back a sneer as he watched the rogue prince saunter in dressed in his leathers, treading at the edges of the princess' skirt with a leering gaze and predatory smile.

They sat now amongst Aemond, Aegon, Helaena, and the Hightower Queen herself. Alicent hadn't been surprised that Daemon had joined them, Aemond's warning had her prepared for the sight.

Still, sitting in front of the man had her hesitate with every shift upon her seat, every breath that escaped her, and every twitch that shuttered through her body in small sparks.

It wasn't uncomfortable, sitting under his heavy stare. It was simply unfamiliar.

So different from that day at the tourney.

She recognised the haunted look in his eye, saw the scars that circled his neck - the embers of a dragon no more.

How alike they were, she thought for a fleeting moment.

How troubled and damaged and chained.

It was Aegon who broke the silence. His words quietly slurred as his tongue was tainted with the taste of bitter ales - "I wish to take up the sword."

Alicent could not help but raise her brows, stunned at the proclamation, shoulders straightening as even Criston shifted in his place in his dark corner with a questioning gaze.

Aemond frowned from his place, these words so unbecoming of Aegon that he held his breath.

"And why would you wish such a thing, after all this time?" Alaynha raised a brow in amusement, her head peering around Daemon's form to watch Aegon with an inquisitive smile.

"Well, if anyone deserves to beat Aemond on the training grounds, I fear it is only fair if it was me," he enunciated his proclamation by chugging another glass of wine, his movements so clumsy the liquid spilt from the edges. But Aegon paid no mind, eyes shut as he savoured the bitter liquid running down his throat in rivulets.

Aemond murmured from his place, eyes narrowed despite the rest of his face remaining passive, "I have been learning the way of the sword since our days as boys, brother, whilst you still remain one. Do not fret, I am sure there are other areas you can excel at - perhaps some more fitting for the drunken princeling."

Aegon couldn't help his pout, huffing and puffing as his mind was clouded with the haze of ale, his stomach rolling and turning as he sat up straight.

"I can take up the sword. Our uncle will teach me."

The claim was daring, especially with Daemon sitting next to him, watching them trade lines as they saw fit. He was amused, but Aegon's words had him pause for a second.

Daemon was ready to refuse, to laugh in the boy's face and claim he would never be ready.

But then, finally - finally, Alicent had spoken.

"Perhaps, Aegon, Ser Cole would be more suited to help you with this interest, yes?"

Aegon bit his lip in thought, eyes flickering to the knight who took a step forward in a show of ascent.

Before Aegon could speak a word, a dark chuckle came from his left, and he turned to meet the sparkling eyes of a violent hue as Daemon ran his gaze over the knight who stepped up with such ease.

"After all," Alicent continued, her gaze hesitantly flitting between Daemon and Aegon, wondering how sore of a spot her next words would hit and what repercussions her Shield should be wary of in the days to come, "Ser Cole is the Commander of the City Watch."

Ah, Daemon thought, his mind reeling with vitriol as something deep within his core sparked to life.

So it was Ser Criston Cole who had taken control of his men. It was Cole who had been passed his title, Cole who commandeered the men he reared into a disfigured version of himself.

It was pathetic, really, to learn a man of such low standing, a man who was not even an ounce of Targaryen, had taken that position from him.

It was pathetic. An insult. To his name, to his title, to his lineage.

"Fear not," Daemon's gaze was passive, his stare blank despite the gears that had begun to wind in the confines of his mind, "the boy would do better under my guide. After all, it is my army that forms the City Watch, isn't that right, Ser Crispin?"

The words were deliberate, of course. An homage to that very day where Daemon had shown just how far his men would go for him, and how quickly they would return to him should he try.

"It is Ser Criston Cole, my prince. And if that is what you wish, I shall not intervene."

He could see how much it pained the knight to step back and allow Daemon to take the opportunity presented to him by the Queen.

Daemon stiffened as a warm hand fell upon his leg, eyes darting down to find the nimble fingers of the source to his curiosity. She squeezed his leg lightly, as though warning him to behave before removing her hand altogether and pretending as though she had not misstepped.

Daemon swallowed harshly, his throat dry despite the copious amounts of wine he had sipped throughout the supper. He cleared his throat, voice dropping down an octave as he re-worded his intentions, remaining unsure of why with every new word spoken.

"I will train the boy. A prince must know how to defend himself, and a dragon should know how to survive upon a battlefield."

Aegon let out a shout of victory, eyes glazed with an inebriated sheen as he settled down in his seat and dug into his food with vigour.

Alicent watched her boy's eyes shine in a light so different to the one which soiled the colour of his eyes for so long, and found herself unable to protest her son's request and Daemon's agreeance.

It seemed Aemond had found his own form of accord in Alicent's silence, watching as Cole bit his tongue and wholly slinked back to his corner.

Alaynha took that as a sign to finally intervene and break the silence once more, "so, uncle," Daemon's eyes sought her own with practiced ease, "Kepa had once told me the story of your time on the Step Stones. But what I would truly like to hear is how you gained the title of the Rogue Prince."

Daemon could see the desire in her eyes to know more, to hear his words and seek his tales and learn of his ventures. It was a rarity, to have someone search for the truths of his adventures.

He could not help how he spoke with such ease, his voice dropping into a sombre cadence as he spoke with reverence of his past with pride colouring his features, and the blood of phantoms covering him limb to limb.

Throughout it all, it did not go unnoticed by Alicent how Alaynha stared at him with glistening eyes and a soft smile, nor how Daemon searched for her gaze after every tale and glanced to her before every answer.

Such a sight brought a sinking feeling in her gut, as though the Seven were upon her, begging her to put a stop to it.

But this was perhaps the closest to normal she had seen her children be near.

Alicent wonders if she would have been better off if she had found a way to wed Daemon instead. If her children would have had a better father and she, a better husband. She cursed her thoughts, blaming no one but herself and, perhaps out of childhood animosity she should have long grown out of, she also blamed Rhaenyra.

***

Ever since that evening he had spent with the Hightower bastards, it did not take long for Daemon to start testing his boundaries.

It had started with the dinners, finding an excuse wherever he could to bump into the young girl just as she was making her way to Alicent and her brothers and sister, knowing she was too kind to let him leave with the knowledge that he would only eat alone in the quiet of his chambers.

He was content in the small routine they had made, ignorant to the setting sun of each day that counted down the days until Rhaenyra's return.

The boys had caught the Sea Sickness, and she was struggling with the guilt of a mother to leave them be. She would stay until they recovered, and he had never felt so free.

Free to roam and stretch and cause mischief.

She had asked for his return home, of course.

And perhaps if it had been his children who coughed and wailed and begged for his return, he would have mounted his dragon in a heartbeat.

But these were Rhaenyra's children. And though he cared for them as he did her, they were another nail pinning him down to the grounds, forced to live a mundane life.

He was a prince. A soldier. A warrior.

He knew no peace not quiet. He knew no tranquillity.

No, Daemon was made from fire, and he would die by it, too. And a life by Rhaenyra's side simply prohibited such a thing.

***

Daemon had come to enjoy his time at the Keep. The green emblems scattered across the walls and the signs of the Seven hung proudly at every corner soon became familiar.

It was an uncomfortable realisation, one that made him wish he could tear them all down and replace the Keep to its former glory. But then he would watch the Green Princess, the youngest of the lot, trail down corridors and race through halls with arms piled heavy in books of history and parchments of intricate designs and maps and secrets, and he found that the Keep was not a symbol of something different, but a reflection of the young woman who had consumed his mind - she was present in his thoughts at every turn, catching his gaze with every glance.

She haunted him the same way the new embellishments of the Keep did, and he found he could not hate one when his mind craved the other.

Yes, his mind.

It was curiosity.

It was simple loneliness that made it grow and fester and become something... tempting. But it truly was curiosity. Or it had started as such.

Perhaps it was why he found himself in such a precarious situation.

He had done something such as this before - it was daring, likely the closest he had ever gotten to scratching that relentless itch of something more.

He wandered the rows of books with quiet disinterest, eyes flickering to the darkening sky outside the windows and then the doors that opened to a quiet hallway. It was well past evening supper, and for once he had not joined the Hightowers. Instead, he roamed the library walls, hoping- praying to catch the girl on her own once more.

He had done so once before by chance, only a mere few days ago. He spoke to her with mischievous eyes, a rasped voice, and a mind made hazy with wine. It had been reckless and stupid, but had she not realised his state of being perhaps he would've succeeded in his mindless plans.

But this time, he was prepared. He didn't want much, no. Simply companionship.

Rhaenyra was still upon Dragonstone, and though she planned to return before the next moon, he grew restless in her absence, as though the dragon in him had awoken from a trance and was coming to life once more.

It was because Rhaenyra was not here, he justified. And he simply wanted companionship. Companionship of the mind, someone to share his thoughts with, someone to pour out endless streams of unspoken whispers and mindless words to. And who better than the gentle-eyed princess who seemed to hold no prejudice against him.

Why the one-eyed prince who would only want to spar and spew hate-filled mocks? Why the drunkard prince who would fill Daemon's time with whores and wine and petulant cries? Why the dazed princess who could never tell her dreams apart from her conscious thoughts?

Why not the girl who was quiet and timid? Who grew a burning fire deep within her soul? Who rode a dragon and drew a sword and laughed and read and spoke his mother-tongue in pretty lilts.

Yes, she would do.

She would do until Rhaenyra returned, and then his infatuation would dwindle. And perhaps he would return to the passive and plain dragon he had become over tireless years, where the days he had at Alaynha's side would be freedom enough.

It was why, when the doors parted with a quiet creek and a quaint figure stepped into the darkness with cautious steps, he slipped into the shadows to follow. Waiting with twitching fingers and trembling breaths for her to turn and jump in fright so he could step into the streams of moonlight to greet her with a proud smirk and bright violet eyes.

"Daemon..."

Her voice trailed off as a whisper, eyes fluttering as they glanced between his own amused ones with confusion as she held a book tight against her chest, trying to calm her hammering heart.

"Princess."

The title slipped off his tongue in a rasped confession, head dipping slightly as though it was secret to be held between them.

She swallowed, her throat dry as her face heated a growing shade of pink under his gaze, and she could only hope it was dark enough to hide the signs of her traitorous body as the blush spread down her neck under his intense stare.

"What are you doing here?"

She couldn't help but narrow her eyes at him, knowing very well the only time Daemon had come to the library before was because he had let his wines and ales get the better of him. Yet it seemed this time was different - his violet eyes clear and his stance steady as he stood straight with his hands behind his back and a stifled, leering smile stretched upon his lips.

Daemon let out a short breath of laughter, head dipping to the side as his smile grew sharper, "if I did not know better, I would say you were trying to get rid of me?"

"And do you know better?"

There was a challenge in her eyes, as though she was remembering that evening she tended to his wounds after his bout of sparring with her brother, where Daemon grabbed her with desperate hands and a weakening resolve that struggled to stop him from begging.

Daemon's fascination was hard to dismiss and impossible to play ignorance to, especially when her own mother had grown so concerned she had outright asked if Alaynha was having an affair with her uncle.

She had grown flustered at the question, heat rushing through her body as shock made her protests stilted and hesitant. But it wasn't true. She had pushed and pled until her mother accepted with a suspicious frown.

Still, she could not hide how she preened under his attention, even from herself. Couldn't help the ghost of a smile that played upon her lips as she reminisced upon her day with Daemon following her like an ever-present shadow as her handmaidens prepared her for bed. Couldn't help but wish to find him hidden in every corner and shadowed space, waiting as though he was preying on her.

Daemon hummed, brows raising as he assessed her form in a manner much too heavy to have been humorous.

"It seems I do not, ñuha perzys ōños."

Alaynha could not help but twist her head at the words, tossing them around in her mind as she wondered why she could feel her heart thudding against her chest and pushing up against her throat as her skin heated once more, now the gentle warmth of a burning fire.

Firelight, he had called her.

His firelight.

What did such a term even mean? Was it the innocent endearment of an estranged uncle and his blossoming niece? Or the wiles of a man so hungry and full of greed, he would feed upon the closest being under the guise of pretty words and false promises.

Or perhaps-

"But I believe the only way we can find the answer to your question with true certainty is if I were to spend more time by your side."

Oh.

She stared at him, unable to help the way her eyes widened at his words and the realisation of the impropriety of their situation grew more apparent.

"What do you think, Princess?"

The title was a challenge and a temptation all in one. A test to see if she would break through the boundary he had been chipping away from the first night he had come to King's Landing and danced with her held in his arms. The night they shared a wound and hid similar scars they refused to acknowledge.

But it was also a temptation- a promise of the wonders she could see at his side. An insight to his mind, to his thoughts and his world.

Did she want it though?

Alaynha stared at the man with a contemplative gaze, the hum of her dragon seeping through the cracks of the wall as it soared across the light of the moon, only for another shadow to cross its path with a chittering roar so familiar she couldn't dismiss the way Daemon's eyes lit up as his gaze flickered to the window to see his dragon chase hers in a playful bout.

Yet, this man was her sister's. He belonged to Rhaenyra, and she already hated Alaynha enough. She knew Rhaenyra planned to return to the Keep soon, with her children in her stead.

What humiliation would the woman face knowing her faithful husband has been preying upon her youngest sister in her absence? What anger would she revolt with when she learned of Daemon's infatuation? What fury would she unleash knowing Alaynha had never tried to stop him?

She wished her mother was present in that moment - her true mother. Her mother who had been a sister-wife and loved a man who was unworthy of such devotion. Her mother who left a mark on her heart and a crack in her soul that could never be mended. And she wondered what her mother would say, wondered how her mother had overcome her own trials and loved a man like Viserys.

Alaynha loved Viserys with all her heart, loved his adoration and his kindness and his loyalty. But she was not blind to his favouritism, and she was sure she would have experienced his dismissal just as her brothers and sister have if it had not been for the love he held for her mother, and the resemblance he was admant she held to his wives.

It had felt like an eon had passed, and when the world came into focus, a violent shade of violet eyes bore patiently into her own. She glanced between the pair, as though seeking the answers to all her worries and all her doubts in the endless void of his gaze.

Grey Ghost danced in the embrace of the moonlight, Caraxes trying to mimic every manoeuvre in an attempt to stay close. Their shadows littered the walls and floor of the library from their place in the sky.

Alaynha huffed, "fine. You can start by helping to carry my books."

Daemon raised his brows, although she was not sure if it was because he was surprised she had agreed or because she had expected him to to help her with such a menial task.

"If the job is too difficult for you," Alaynha rolled her eyes at him in irritation, "or beneath you, you are more than welcome to return to your chambers and never learn of me again."

They stared at each other for a moment, a few breaths passing between them before Daemon gave in so easily and pulled the book from her grasp. Alaynha tried to ignore the way her breath stuttered and her fingers tingled as he placed his hand atop her own.

His fingers slipped between the gaps of her own, wrapping around the edge of the book she held so close to her chest that Daemon could not help but watch as her breaths grew shallow at his touch, hiding his smirk at the sight of her chest rising and falling under the sheer material of her white gown.

His fingers tightened around the book, pulling it into his hands as he ground his teeth at the sensual images that began to burrow in his mind as he wondered how soft the flesh beneath her shift would feel against his palm in contrast to the book he currently held.

Alaynha cleared her throat softly, turning away from the dazed man whilst wrapping her robe over her body tighter - a poor attempt to conceal the guilt that oozed from her pores as she scolded herself for enjoying his attention.

She strolled through the library, her steps losing their grace as she stole glances over her shoulders with every twist and turn down the long and seamlessly organised rows of bookcases.

Daemon followed her like a shadow, taking ten steps forward for every five she would make, in hopes of being stuck upon her like a leech.

The minutes whispered by as Alaynha browsed the shelves with a thoughtful expression, her fingers running gently over the spine of a set of books she took interest in, only to pull out one and add it to the ever-growing pile accumulating in Daemon's arms.

Daemon did not complain, he barely spoke. She could feel his eyes upon her with every breath, as though he was sure she would fade into the darkness that shrouded the corners of the room.

It was not until she had selected the final book she would add to her collection, spinning on her heels to make her way to the door in a blatant show she was finally finished, that Daemon spoke.

"'The Wiles of Taming a Wild Dragon', hm?"

She could hear the amusement in his voice, could sense the way his shoulders shook as he chuckled under his breath. She felt her cheeks in shame, afraid he would no longer see her as a true dragon-rider should she have to rely on books and research in order to learn how best to care for her dragon, or obtain more.

"I thought Viserys had rid his collection of the book many years ago."

Alaynha paused in her ventures to turn and face him, brows furrowed in confusion as she watched Daemon stumble to a stop as his grip tightened around the teetering tower of books.

"Why would Father rid his library of the book?"

Daemon grinned, but something about it was different to all the other times he had allowed a smile to grace his face and tug upon his lips. This was a smile of reminiscence, a childish grin he was unable to stop, try as he might.

Daemon had owned the book when he was younger, reading it cover to cover and memorising every word. He had used it to bond with Caraxes and take a dragon of his own, yet when Viserys had found out he had been mocked and scoffed upon for using words to tame a dragon.

Daemon was never one to accept defeat nor humiliation. The boy would follow his brother's every step on the training grounds, mimic his every move in the sky, reciting the God-awful limericks that riddled the pages of his favourite book.

Looking back now, he could see how the book had made no sense, how it twisted vague words in hopes that its reader was desperate enough to find their own meaning through their tired consciousness.

It had seemed Daemon was.

It did not take long until Viserys grew tired of Daemon's advice when it came to rearing a dragon - garbled words strung together in a semblance of a song that grated at the older boy until he stole the book from Daemon and announced to all he had burned it.

Daemon had decided at that moment he would take sleep from his brother too, reciting all the lyrical intstructions he had memorised in the secret tunnels of the Keep just beside the opening into Viserys chambers, who wondered with incredulity how his brother's spirit had found him when he was still alive.

Daemon hadn't stopped for weeks, not until his mother had sat him down and scolded him for ridding Viserys of a good night's sleep.

That would teach him to steal from me, he had said.

Alaynha snorted at the proud confession, amusement colouring her eyes as she shook her head good-naturedly at Daemon's dramatic re-telling.

He walked beside her now, balancing the stack of books with ease as they stumbled through the dimly-lit corridors whispering of tales and memories they held far from most.

She held the book he spoke of in her hands, holding it tight to her chest as though Daemon's memory of it would sear itself into her skin. Truthfully, she had never heard much stories of her father - in all the time she had known him, he had always been sickly.

A gasp away from death.

She held back her laughter, shoulders trembling with the peels of giggles she knew would wake King's Landing as Daemon continued to reel and spin any tale he could remember of his brother in his youth, when he was healthy and joyous and... coherent.

She hadn't realised they had made it to her chambers until they were about to pass it all together. Her hesitation had Daemon stop in her stead, eyes roving over the chamber doors before spinning around the corridor before them.

Empty.

No knights. No soldiers. No men to be seen.

"Where are your guards? It is not safe for a princess to be alone at night?"

Daemon wasn't sure if he should be furious on her behalf or not. One side of him was grateful there were no pliable eyes nor ears to surely report back to Hightower and Cole. The other was angered at the sight that the princess was left unprotected.

"Oh, it is quite normal, Daemon."

There it was again, his name rolling past her sweet lips.

"I usually stay in the library quite late, since I usually cannot bring all these books back with me myself. It is on my commands the guards take their position much later in the night."

"You choose to stay out without protection? Are you truly that foolish, girl?"

Daemon's eyes narrowed as he met her gaze, incredulity filling his voice. Did she not realise the position she held? The power she had? All of which could be stolen and held against her should she be caught vulnerable by some curious lord or lustful soldier.

Alaynha scoffed, eyes rolling as she finally pushed open the doors to her chambers and entered without peering behind, "if you wish to simply mock me, you may place my books upon the table and take your leave."

Daemon does as he is commanded, lips twitching in irritation as he struggles with what he should say next.

"I believe I will wait here."

Alaynha turns to him sharply, a short laugh escaping her as she watched his determined expression, "and what has you think I would allow such a thing?"

"You have no guards. Although Crispin may be the Commander of the City Watch, it seems the man cannot even protect the princess, so why should I trust either him or his men."

"Oh, and what? You think you will be enough to protect me from the harrowed men and vile humans who walk amongst the Keep?"

Daemon didn't feign a reply, closing the chamber doors before making his way to the chaise and sitting upon it, snatching a book from the table in front of him to hold up in a facade of reading.

"Do not ignore me."

He simply huffed, fingers running down each page slowly in a show of interest before flipping to the next.

"Daemon," she rounded the chaise, leaning down to catch his eyes - her breath caught in her throat as a vibrant shade of violet burned through her own, like something had come to life within him and it rumbled and roared to be free.

"Uncle, you must leave."

Daemon tutted at the word, "come sit with me, niece."

"If anyone was to see you here in my chambers, it would cause an uproar throughout the Keep. My sister's husband. Please."

"You are left unprotected. No guards or knights posted at your door, I would be doing my brother a disservice by leaving you," his voice was monotonous, but she could see the traces of a smirk aching to stretch across his face.

This was a game to Daemon, nothing more.

But a game was something she could handle.

She sighed through her noise, grumbling under her breath and agreed to his motioning.

She moved to the chaise closest to the fire, gritting her teeth as she began to take a seat. It was then Daemon decided to open his damned mouth again, and Alaynha almost swore upon the Seven to find something to keep his mouth shut forever.

But a small part of her, a mangled beast of naivety and curiosity, knew she craved to hear his voice and even death would not stop her from seeking it out.

"Bring me some wine, will you, niece?"

She sat down with a huff, hands upon her lap as she clenched the soft material of her shift in fists - "have your arms fallen off that you find yourself incapable of serving yourself, uncle?"

She enunciated the word, a harsh drawl accompanied by narrowed eyes and a twitching nose as she watched him in irritation.

First he seeks her out in the library, which she allows.

Then he follows her around, which she encouraged.

But to enter her chambers and refuse to leave under his petty guise of protection was foolish, and though her heart may have fluttered at his refusal to her demands to leave her be, her irritation brewed with every command he spoke.

Daemon looks up from his book, brows raised as though he was waiting for her to follow his orders despite the rebuttal. Alaynha simply stares at him, mirroring his gaze in challenge.

Daemon rolls his eyes, tossing the book beside him as he scoffs and throws up his hands, "fine, dear niece, I accept defeat. Oh, how you have wounded your uncle."

He continued his dramatic mutterings as he sauntered his way over to the table as Alaynha eyes the book he had tossed aside. She bit her lip in quiet contemplation, leaving her seat to steal his previous one and snatch up the book to flick through.

"The Toils of a Maiden."

Her cheeks burned at the realisation of exactly which of her books Daemon had taken to entertain himself with - it was a romance novel, narrating the charming love that stirred between a young princess and her knight.

She flicked through the pages, eyes skimming over words she had read a hundred times before. Her concentration was broken when a goblet made its way in front of her, her eyes following the pale hand that held it carelessly above the book she had been feverishly reading to meet the amused expression of Daemon once more.

"A very interesting selection, princess. Both the wine and the book," he smirked.

She rolled her eyes, snatching the spiced wine from his grasp and finishing it in one swift gulp. Hopefully, the wine would make the rogue prince's presence more tolerable, or she would be too out of her mind to give him a second thought.

"Although, I do not understand why you would waste your time on silly novels."

Alaynha frowned, placing her goblet on the table beside her, "I fear what I read is no concern of yours."

Daemon sat beside her, arm brushing against her own with every breath, causing a flutter to brew in the pit of her stomach which was so foreign and new that she almost found it hard to meet his gaze.

"If I did not know better, then I would say you read such horrid tales in hopes of bedding your own knight."

Alaynha scoffed in disbelief, yet the small amount of wine she had consumed worked up her courage quickly as she retorted, "and if I do?"

"Then I would warn you to stay away from Ser Cole."

Alaynha almost laughed in disbelief and if she herself had not heard the stories of Daemon's ventures to gain Rhaenyra's hand in marriage, she would surely jest jealousy tainted his words.

There was a dark glint in his eyes, one that grew with the flames rolling in the fireplace, that had her think perhaps she was right.

Alaynha's lips parted as she went to disclose her incredulity at his words, but they caught in her throat at the sound of knocking upon her door. Her eyes widened as they met Daemon's stare, expecting to see the same dread in his expression that flooded her own - instead, it seemed he was amused, almost on the edge of his seat in anticipation of what would happen were they to enter and see the young princess unchaperoned with the Green's greatest threat.

He pointed his head towards the door, lips twitching into a smirk as he urged her to answer the knocks.

Alaynha did so hesitantly, her voice cracking as she spoke, "who is it?"

"It is your guards, princess. Ser Cole has sent us to take watch for the night."

She swallowed roughly, eyes flickering over Daemon's form as she wondered how he would escape unseen, "of course, thank you."

She could hear the men shift in their heavy armour as they took their position in front of her chambers, her shoulders tensing as Daemon leaned closer and his warm breath brushed across her cheek, the feeling heating her up far quicker than the fireplace ever had.

He tutted, "it seems I cannot escape just yet. We would not want you to be caught in a scandal, now would be princess?"

"You have to leave. If they find you in here, I will be ruined."

She stared at him with pleading eyes and pouted lips, and Daemon had to admit a part of him almost felt guilt for placing her into such a predicament.

The other part raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind her ear, his thumb dragging down the soft curve of her cheeks as her eyes fluttered closed reluctantly, "I think I shall stay."

Her eyes opened to meet his, something quiet and dark bubbling under the surface as though she watched him in a different light altogether. She rolled her eyes, pulling her face away from his grasp and twisting on her seat to face the broiling flames. She pulled her knees towards her chest, ignoring the man as she took to reading the book he had been so amused by, "have it your way, but do not expect me to entertain your mischief, Daemon."

Daemon.

How he wished he could make her say his name again and again, the word slipping off her tongue until he tired of it. Daemon pondered how long it would take for his fascination to dwindle, for him to become bored and content as the slumbered dragon he had become so easily under Laena's and Rhaenyra's thumb.

He wondered if he would ever get bored at all.

Perhaps he would, but a contrite shred of his soul - a spark that had become ignited, a flicker that yearned to turn into the raging flame of dragon's breath - knew he would not.

It seemed Alaynha's obvious show that she had been ignoring Daemon went unnoticed, his mind reeling with ways he could sate his curiosity and knowing it would only be if he could get closer- closer and closer until there was barely enough room left between them to breath, until they melded as one like Valyrian steel forged by dragon fire. An ultimate seal, a sign by the Sevens and whoever else the kingdom swore fealty to.

He whispered across the space between them, his voice hushed and his words buzzing as his head lolled towards her, "you should join us on the training grounds tomorrow."

"Oh?"

"Aegon, though enthusiastic, is troublesome to train. You however," his gaze turns towards the fire, his body slouched upon the chaise as his head rested against the edge, his tongue suddenly heavy as he imagined her sparring against him, the sweat upon her brow, her small grunts of effort, the vicious gleam in her eyes, her skill and her anger, "you have promise. I can teach you better than any man upon King's Landing."

She couldn't help the way her mind filled with intrigue, placing her book to the side as she turned and faced him. Her knees knocked against his thigh, and he could feel her warm flesh press into him, burn through him as she watched him with curious eyes - "and what is it you believe you can teach me that both Aemond and Criston have failed to?"

"You forget, ñuha perzys ōños, how it is I became King of the Narrow Sea."

"I remember perfectly fine, but I also know that Criston saw war just as you have and he is Commander of the City Watch."

A flare of anger finds Daemon at those words, he only scoffs in reply, lips stretching out into an imitation of a laugh as his words grow hushed despite him bitterness so as not to alert the guards outside. His hand reached towards Alaynha, his thumb brushing over her thumb before wrapping around her throat and tugging her closer so she hovered over him.

Alaynha gasped sharply, Daemon's hand squeezing her throat lightly in warning so she didn't squeal and whine under his grasp. Her hands reached forward, bracing herself on his shoulders as he tugged her onto his lap, her knees falling on either side of his thighs as she hovered above him.

Daemon's eyes fell shut at the sight of her face above his own, her wide eyes and the shallow breaths that escaped her. Her hair fell in a halo around them, a barrier from the outside world. He tugged her closer, his forehead pressing against her own.

Alaynha couldn't help the way her body relaxed under his touch, her eyes fluttering shut as a shaky breath escaped her, her hands drifting down from his shoulders to his chest and her thighs pressed flush against his own as she sat upon his lap causing her shift to be drawn up and bunched at her waist.

"You forget yourself, Alaynha," his words were gruff, and the sound of her name finally- finally slipping past his lips, like the very word tainted the air between them, had her swallow roughly. Daemon's eyes opening wide as his eyes flashed with something unseemly and violent at the feeling.

"You forget that I am the Rogue Prince. That I was the Commander of the City Watch, and the very Gold Cloaks Cole commands as his own are mine. That unlike Cole, I am a dragon-rider. A prince. I have conquered a dragon. That the Narrow Sea is mine. That y-" Daemon caught his tongue before he could forget himself, his skin burning as he fought for control, a battle he was quickly losing as the sight and feel of the princess against him was a war of its own.

"I can have anything I want, ñuha perzys ōños- do anything I wish."

Every breath she took felt heavy, her chest heaving as something hot washed over her, a foreign sensation that was ready to consume her if she did not control herself.

"Then why don't you?"

She wasn't sure what she meant by such words, or perhaps she was. Perhaps she wanted Daemon to hold her, to run his hands over her body and into her hair, she wanted Daemon to groan her name and call to her, call for her.

In that moment, Alaynha did not think of her sister Rhaenyra, nor the fact that Daemon was a married man. Her body ached in a manner so unfamiliar, she was ready to lose herself to it to sate the revolting beast inside.

Daemon leaned up, lips only inches away from her own as they sighed into each other, tempting fate and their own sanity as the seconds ticked by. His tongue dipped out, laving at her jaw before moving lower the lick stripes against her neck, his hips gently rocking against her own as she whimpered at the feeling of him brushing against her core.

Then he stopped, his hand falling from her neck to hold her waist and press her down against him. A sharp gasp escaped her, a cry that was muffled as she hid her face against his neck.

Daemon drifted a hand into the tangles of her hair, tugging her head back and tried to find her gaze, "I am a better man than that- than this. I should be."

Alaynha did not know what to say, did not know if she should agree with him and stop this now or discourage such silly notions and chase the beast that was growing rampant inside of her to tame it.

Daemon stands, his arms moving to secure her against him as Alaynha wraps her legs around his waist. Her arms move hesitantly around his neck, and Daemon finds that as he nears her bed he is unable to break away from her stare.

There is something hidden within the depths of those brown eyes, something free and unruly, defiant and true that draws him in deeper when he knows he should not.

Curiosity.

Curiosity and nothing more.

Nothing more.

He leaned over her as he placed her softly upon the bed, hands moving lower to run over the soft expanse of her legs, travelling under the shift to explore her flesh and satiate this curiosity.

He blinked furiously as she leaned up to his touch, her breasts pushing against his chest as his forehead leaned against her own once more. He withdrew his hand from her shift, dragging his hands over the material, across her hips and her waist, up her stomach and between her breasts, brushing across her throat and her cheeks to tangle in her hair and pull her up - so tempted, so inclined and aching to press her lips against his own.

Daemon scrunches up his eyes, inhaling deeply as he forced the dragon within him to calm - she was a maiden, and Daemon would not ruin her. Not yet.

He pressed a kiss on her forehead, hand moving to brush across her face as he hushed, "sleep."

Alaynha watched him with a confused gaze, her body burning under his touch as her heart tumbled with hurt at his refusal to continue. Daemon could see it within her eyes, leaning closer to she couldn't escape his gaze, "not like this," he promised.

"I would not dishonour you like this."

Something in Alaynha's heart, the itching part that protested and yearned for his touch once more, settled at that. The rest of her twisted and turned in the face of such turmoil, unsure of her own feelings and the morals of such a matter.

Here was a married man, her sister's husband, in her bed with his hands upon her body and his lips so close to her own, and yet guilt was nowhere in sight. Simply curiosity.

Daemon pressed another soft kiss upon her forehead, his limbs feeling like lead as he pulled himself away and spoke solemnly, "I will sleep upon the chaise and slip out when the guards change shifts. No one will see me and your reputation will remain intact."

Despite all that had happened, and everything they had done, he still had that mischievous look in his eyes as he teased and taunted. But a promise was a promise, and Alaynha could not find it within herself to protest.

Neither of them had gotten much sleep that night, each laying away in their respective places wondering how things had moved so suddenly.

And better yet, how to stop it from happening again.

Or perhaps, what might happen next.

I'm getting back into the flow of writing, so I apologise if this is not great writing. I do hope you enjoyed it nonetheless, and hopefully you should be able to expect some smut in the next chapter.

Thank you all for your patience xxx

Taglist: @kelssssxd @esquivelbianca @chynagirl13 @luanasrta @kemillyfreitas @americanprometheuss @clarap23 @pet1t3 @your-favorite-god @hypocritic-trash-baby @esquivelbianca @serving-targaryen-realness @toji-girl @queenmendes @the-lil-spud

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen smut #daemon x reader #daemon targeryan #daemon targaryen #hotd daemon #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targaryen x targaryen!reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #hotd x reader #hotd smut #hotd fandom #hotd fanfic #hotd #house of the dragon

117 notes · View notes

cluz1babe · 3 months

Text

"Open My Eyes..." Bonus Aegon Scene

MDNI 18+ ONLY SMUT

You were in Aemond’s chambers, bent over one of his tables. Aemond was behind you, pounding into you ruthlessly. You were allowing him to take his frustrations with his brother and Ser Criston Cole out on your body, and you were loving every second of it. He was rarely that savage in the bedchamber. The force of his pistoning hips made you hold onto the table as though your life depended on it.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“This night is for you, young squire.“ Aegon slurred his speech a little too much. “Normally I would take you to a brothel, but a little bird told me I could find a whore in my brother’s bed.”

There was laughter coming from the men following Aegon.

“If she’s not in, then I’ll take you to someone who is perfect for first timers.”

The doors to Aemond’s chambers opened without warning and before either of you had the chance to react, Aegon started laughing at the sight of you. Aemond quickly covered your body with his, sheilding you from whomever would come in unannounced. Aemond was seething.

“What a fine, sweet thing. My brother still finds his whore’s cunt so appealing even after knowing how many men and women have been there.”

“Aegon.” Aemond growled and turned to face his brother.

Aegon started laughing at the way he had just caught his brother fucking you. “Were you fucking her like a hound, too? Like one of those little dogs she brought?” Aegon started barking, “WOOFWOOFWOOF!” Aegon continued laughing and barking.

Aemond finally did it. He jumped at Aegon. Aegon held his hands up. “Calm down, Aemond. She’s used to being passed around.” He looked back at you, his drunkenness evident in the way he swayed. “Why don’t you give everyone a little taste?”

“Get out!” Aemond yelled, but no one budged.

Aemond looked at you, making sure you were okay. You had grabbed his coat and you were holding it around your body to shield yourself from everyone. Then Aemond turned back to his brother. “You have spoken against her for the last time.”

Aegon got in his brother’s face. “And what’re you going to do about it, Aemond, the fierce? The little princeling’s forgotten his place. And I dare say, he’ll do it again, as his whore’s been a very bad influence. We’ll have to remedy that situation.”

“You can say anything about me, but do not bring her into it.”

“As I said, we’ll remedy that soon.” Aegon turned to leave, his group of friends followed. When the doors opened again, Aegon immediately spoke loud enough for you to hear as he left the room. “I have a better one in mind. Her name is, uh, Sylvi or Selyse or, I don’t know, something like that. She was my first. She was Aemond’s first, too.” He turned and smirked at you, then he continued on his way. “Come, let’s break your vow of chastity, young man.” Aegon ushered the other men away.

Aemond went to you. “Princess, are you alright?”

“Yes.” You discarded the coat so you were completely nude again.

“I’m sorry. I should have done something.”

“No, Aemond. If you had done something, we’d be worse off.” You pulled him to the bed. “I know what he wants.”

“You think he wants something more? From you?”

You gave him a look that let him catch on.

“And you are considering it — with my brother?”

“Only if you’re okay with it. I have a feeling… Or maybe it’s just hope… He’ll ease up on both of us if I just give him what he wants.”

“Or you could make it worse.”

“If I don’t try something, he’ll definitely continue to treat us this way.” You looked away from him, embarrassed by your own forgetfulness. “I just don’t want to hurt Helaena. I don’t think she realizes he puts his cock in anything that walks and talks.”

“She’s innocent.”

“Exactly.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“He’s about to have his way with you. It unsettles me.” Aemond muttered as you made your way to Aegon’s apartments.

“Try not to let it. I’ll be thinking of you the whole time.” You took his hand. “We talked about this, Aemond. It’s better to give in to him for right now. We both know it’s not the first time I’ve used my cunt as a weapon.”

“Don’t. Don’t speak that way about yourself.”

You gave him a gentle smile then kissed him.

“Don’t let him degrade you.”

You smiled slyly, “I’ll leave that to you, when I’m feeling up for it.”

“Princess—“

“Neh'll ma kiixipatinemi.” (I’ll take care of it.) He pulled you close and kissed you, then you touched your forehead you his. “Ninekis mitska.” (I’ll be pretending it’s you.) “Xinechtemachi.” (Trust me.)

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You removed your smallclothes, which you normally wouldn’t wear, lifted your skirt, and spread your legs enough to invite him in.

As Aegon fucked you on a table, you were looking into Aemond’s eye, letting him know that you were pretending it was him. Aemond palmed his pants. It was so wrong to do while knowing his brother was the one inside of you. When you bit your lip to stifle a moan at the sight of Aemond trying to give himself some friction, his semi-erect member came to full attention. There was nothing, no one, in this room but you and Aemond.

You moaned and Aegon finally looked at your face for the first time since you’d entered the room. He noticed you were focused on something behind him, so he turned and saw you and Aemond were looking at each other. Aegon spread his thrusting and laughed. “Brother, are you enjoying watching me fuck your wife?”

Aemond ignored him, but you knew if Aegon continued, he would only aggravate Aemond. So you pulled Aegon’s face to yours and kissed Aegon to distract him and it worked. Somehow his desire to fuck you won out over his desire to torment his brother any more.

When he was finished, Aegon leaned back to look at you. His face was soft, but his words told another story. “Don’t think this is the last time this happens, because as long as you’re expecting and every time hereafter that you bear fruit for my brother…” His thumb trace your bottom lip. “I will have you when the time presents itself.”

“No.” Aemond grumbled.

“Did you just say ‘No’ to your King?” Aegon turned to Aemond. “Aemond, I let you have what you want… The wife *you* chose, the family *you’re* creating - at great risk to our allegiances - so I get to have her.”

Aemond was ready to show his brother what it felt like to be run through with a blade. He roared, “You cannot treat a future Queen like some common whore!”

In order to prevent Aemond from losing more than one eye, you pulled him back. “It’s alright, my love.” You interrupted his dark thoughts. Aemond looked into your eyes and you comforted him. “Avy jorrāelan. (‘I love you.’) At least we’ll always be certain that any child I have will be yours.”

Aegon pushed past Aemond. When he reached the door, he turned back. “I never called her common. She most certainly isn’t. Consider yourself lucky, brother. I could…do other things to her. I could undermine her authority over the High Council… Or I could take her when she’s not pregnant and when she is with child again, you would never know if is yours or mine. I could imprison her for being related to that brother of hers who was so keen to fight for the Bitch Queen. I have ideas.”

And there it was. You gave Aemond an apologetic look because you had hoped it would go differently, but it didn’t matter what you did for Aegon or his family. He would never trust you. The best you could do is go play his games and hope you didn’t anger him.

Thankfully, Aegon never did come through on that promise.

SERIES MASTERLIST

#aegon ii targaryen #hotd spoilers #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #smut #18+ mdni #aemond x reader #aegon x reader

86 notes · View notes

sky-kiss · 5 months

Text

Raphael x Jaheira: Leash

A/N: extremely short lol, but inspired by how absolutely damn unhinged Andrew and Tracy got on a stream. And the gorgeous art they inspired. Holy damn, Red is so psycho talented.

R x J: Leash 18+

Jaheira catches his lower lip between her teeth. “Come now, pretty bird. No songs for me?”

Oh, he croons, preening for her amidst his sea of lavish silks. He is red. Red like the kiss-sucked bruises on his throat, red like his sheets, red like the wine trickling down his throat, tracking down his abdomen. The half-elf digs her knees into his hips, pulling back on the leash as she might with any well-trained mount. He arches, lower lip caught between his teeth, as she traces the path of the wine with her nails.

“And in what tongue would you prefer these songs, High Harper?” the devil purrs. “I do consider myself a—” he gasps, hips jerking as she fists a hand in his hair. “ —most magnanimous host.”

Jaheira considers this, fighting back a shiver as he traces the underside of her breasts. She slackens her grip, and he tuts, disapproving, tucking his face in the curve of her neck. Teeth press against her throat, canines threatening to break the skin. She tugs on his collar, and he hisses.

No marks, aye—that is the rule. Much like any spoiled princeling, he is inclined to break these agreements.

“You might have surprised me.” Jaheira clucks her tongue. “Barely house-trained. Ah-ah. You do not bite unless asked.”

He sinks his teeth deeper, and she grunts, instinctively yanking on the collar, binding him. Raphael bears the abuse, tongue lapping at the fresh wound. He groans. “Such a delicious vintage. Why—I can still taste Demogorgon’s fury on you.”

She laughs, tipping her head back to grant better access. Ah, but let him have this indulgence. Jaheira leads him in a lazy rock, pleased by the way his hips judder when she squeezes him—greedy boy.

“Ah, you would drink from me, then? How generous.”

Raphael tweaks her nipple with his thumb. “Behave, Harper. Even these mighty new friends would struggle to wrest you from my claws—should it strike my fancy.”

She pats his cheek, fighting back a groan of pleasure as she takes him deeper. Raphael’s left-hand settles over hers, still gripping the leash. He presses her back and draws the collar tighter, and it’s all the permission Jaheira needs to push them further. Her free hand settles on his sternum, pushing him back, making him snarl, jerking against this binding.

“Oh, beautiful boy,” she croons, pressing her thumb to his lower lip. “You believe I’d need them?”

He thrusts up into her, long lashes fluttering over his cheeks—he is beautiful. Pleasure coils low in her belly as she wraps the leather around her forearm. Raphael grasps the leash and pulls her down to him. Until they press chest to chest, pace erratic as the half-elf rides him. This joining is a savage thing, teeth bared, swallowing each other’s air as they chase their pleasure. Jaheira finds it…well, it is the simplest sort of exchange.

She strokes his hair in the aftermath, pleased when he presses a glass of fine wine to her lips. They are the sort to linger in the afterglow, neither embarrassed by their nudity. Both are old enough to welcome this…calm.

Raphael digs his finger into the small of her back, honey-colored eyes glittering with mischief. “You will convince dear Tav to reconsider my offer?”

She scoffs. “As if they would listen! These heroes will do as they please. You know this.”

“I know this.” He licks the marks he’s left on her throat. “But the devil will have his due.”

#bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #bg3 #jaheira #jaheira x raphael #they did this #i did nothing #tell andrew and tracy to stop #bg3 smut #bg3 fanfiction #raphael x jaheira #Raheira

82 notes · View notes

ladystarksneedle · 10 months

Text

The eye of envy

Summary: A maid at the keep finds her own flame through the words of the dragon.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: implied smut, mentions of child death, burns and injuries, angst.

Prev<

Masterlist

Her body aches in ways it has never before. She has known hardship her entire life, strenuous work from dawn to dusk pushing her to the brink of exhaustion and fitful slumber. She wakes up equally restless now, deliciously sore as she gets to work hiding the bruises beneath the wimple she opts to wear. She finds his eye following her movements every time she enters or perhaps she’s more aware of his presence now that her longing has borne fruit. The sheets are changed more often with longer baths being taken together, grasping and clawing at each other till they're raw and need to be cleansed again. She finds herself visiting the sept more often, eyes on the lookout for his ardor as she begins honoring the Mother forsaking the Maiden before her. It is a wishful dream that she now lives every day, yearning for yet another part of him to hold and she’s answered soon enough.

The wails that haunt the hallways make her shrink in terror wishing for the Stranger himself. There are whispers of madness and horror floating around that make her want to retreat into herself and run away from it all. The servants are rounded up again and cast into the dungeons awaiting harsher trials as she paces around her quarters unharmed yet she knows she'll face her fate soon enough. The blood that she'd given to him so readily hasn't arrived with the moon's turn making her choke back a sob. Some part of her thinks he knows what lies within her and it is perhaps his clemency which shields her from his wrath yet every time he returns to her his touch is fierce and unyielding, punishing her with sweeter torment. He leaves with a smirk on his face and a kiss to her cheek with a lingering promise of more as she struggles in silence. The Mother seems to have confused her punishment for the son that grows within her blooms as the young princeling of six wilts and the screams only grow louder.

The days that follow are short and agonizing. She's confined to his chambers with little knowledge of what passes outside other than the whispers passed at meals delivered to her on time. The King has ordered the death of all the rat catchers of the keep along with servants who've been presumed guilty. The stench of flesh soon greets her despite the windows being shut tight. Their bars can only hold so much death.

It is a solemn occasion that greets her later as she dresses him in black. She feels him clench his jaw throughout the night in anticipation with no amount of coaxing soothing the guilt that he struggles to hide. She feels it too, a hand pressed to her womb in passing, feeling the pain she hears down the hall yet she braves it for him. He leaves shortly, assigning a guard to her door, prohibiting her leave as she's tucked into his bed with a lingering gaze. She knows the pain he carries now is for them both.

He becomes careful with her once the ashes of the little boy are strewn to the skies. His hands linger and ghost over her belly before retreating to clenching over nothing. There are days where she sees him only around the hour of the eel, woken up to being pulled close and taken in haste. There is an urgency to his movements which he tries to hide as he gives in to pleasure while not forgetting her own, yet he's gone before the sun rises leaving her locked and alone. She feels like a prisoner with more comfortable lodgings. She busies herself tidying his things yet she longs for home and the comfort of her own mother the most. It is days later when she's visited by one, clad in teal with her hands clasped in front of her. The Dowager queen looks as regal as she's spoken of, out of place next to a woman of her status as she bids her to sit. There is a sorrow that clings to her, haunting her beauty as she speaks.

“How are you doing”

“I am well your grace”

“That is good. You perhaps know why I’m here then”

“I make no demands of your grace. The prince-”

“Is quite fond of you, yes. It is why I've allowed him this fancy in the first place”

“It was not my intention”

“It never is” she responds ruefully. “The Mother has chosen to bless you child, in a time when she's tried us all” she continues fidgeting with her hands “Look after him” she whispers tiredly. She finds the woman that leaves is not the mother she hoped for but a crone gliding through the halls.

The first time she calls him by name is when he leaves for battle. She wakes up before dawn to ready him, helping him with his armour as he stares ahead. She cannot stop her tears as she finishes clasping his eyepatch in place before he pulls her to him whispering to her in the language of his ancestors. He kisses her farewell with a smile and a promise to return and that is what she finds herself praying for daily. She calls him by his name in her dreams, in the thoughts that haunt her while she kneels on stone. She lights candles for the Warrior to guide his blade and flame and for the Father to give them justice for the sorrow she sees amidst green. It is three moons later when word of victory reaches them before she finally approaches the Mother in peace.

The royal parade returns as her belly begins to swell. She hears the cheers in the distance and sees the head of the red horned beast that started it all, before seeing him fly triumphantly above. He returns to her with pride etched into him caressing her with longing burning through them both. It is only later she realizes how deeply the fire has consumed them all. The King screams in agony drowning the wails of his Queen who stares at him, pain etched into her features. She's been ushered into the room to help yet cannot stomach the sight before her. He's covered in bandages, salves and ointments lining his peeling skin, perpetually drunk on milk of the poppy to dull his senses. She sees her hold his hand and whisper something to him which is lost to the wind before she rises and leaves as the Dowager queen cries silently nearby. Aemond stands at the threshold observing it all with a blank face yet she knows what he sees. She remembers her mother telling her it is a curse to play chase with the Gods, yet as the man ahead of her screams as he's weaned off intermittently she can hardly summon any pity. Her heart lies with her lover at the threshold.

The night passes in flashes of anger with bolts of lightning illuminating the skies heralding imminent danger. She feels the empty bed next to her as her eyes adjust to the dark. It is cold as she struggles to wake up and explore. It is the last thing she should be doing but with him back she cannot feel anything but a semblance of security. She pads along the floor in her robe before making her way to where she thinks he is. She sees him stalking towards the monstrosity ahead as she lets herself in with a creak of the great oak doors.

“You shouldn't be here” he says as he hears her approach.

“Neither should you”

“It is to be mine on the morrow”

“Is it” she counters bravely “He still lives”

“Yet he's too weak to exert his will. It is I who’ll rule in his stead” he says, watching her reach him. “All of this will be ours someday.”

“In everything but name” she whispers reluctantly.

“Is it my name you still want when I have given you so much more”

“I want everything,” she admits.

“Greed doesn't become you”

“It seems to have found its place with you”

“This was always meant to be mine.” he remarks.

She sees another flash of lightning illuminate his face, silver and leather bathed in the moonlight, as she turns towards him.

“You promised me your protection as long as I wished to continue. That is all I still ask for” she whispers, taking his hands in hers.

“Do you know the story about how the Iron throne was forged” he asks “A thousand blades were melted to take its form. A thousand men fell for its cause”

“Do you plan to fell a thousand more for your own?”

She sees him smile in response as he replies “You shall have all that I have to give in time. Conquests do not yield their fortune in a day”

“Only King's perhaps” she finishes looking at him.

She dresses him at dawn with trepidation, her eyepatch now discarded for a new beginning. His sapphire glints in the dark as he clasps one around her neck.

“You are mine today for all to see” she thinks he means to tell her, as he pulls her to him from behind admiring the way it sits above her collarbones.

The ceremony is long and foreboding. She stands to the side in blue as he's crowned, curtsying with all the grace she can muster. She sees her father in the distance looking at her with confusion and her mother smiling knowingly before they bow. As the sun rises in the distance and steel finds a home atop a new head of silver, she feels the Smith at work, fashioning bonds aflame like the golden pin that glints on his collar. The doe ahead of her fumes in silence.

Taglist: @witheredoffherwitch @arcielee @chompchompluke @barbieaemond @watercolorskyy @b00kw0rmsworld

#house of the dragon #aemond fics #zae's fics #aemond x maid reader #aemond x fem!reader #aemond x reader #aemond imagine #hotd imagine #hotd fic #aemond targaryen x female reader #aemond targaryen x reader

176 notes · View notes