#corlys velaryon x daemon's bastard reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darlingofvalyria · 1 year ago

Text

❝Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine. Dragons take.❞

[ Betrayal clouds your judgement, for when Jacaerys' indiscretion takes the form of a child, your anger lands in the palm of the Rogue Prince. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 3,412 ] | Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Niece!Reader, Jacaerys Velaryon x Manipulative Aunt!Reader | this set in an au inside of in hightower green. | this is able to be read as a oneshot.

contains— canon divergence to the second power - an au of an au - targcest, use of 'bastard', infidelity, profanity, revenge, violence, pureblood Valyrian bullshit - thinking about death as a revenge but no suicide/suicidal ideation- angst, smut - two wrongs apparently make a right - mentions of children, pregnancy, childbirth - nsfw: rough sex, biting, degradation, breeding kink, smidge dacryphilia, creampie - no kinslayers, no kings, no betas.

a/n— special thanks to @ahristata and @hiraethrhapsody for kicking my pursuit of this thread!! i woke up (almost literally) to this line of inquiry, & though writing for daemon is difficult, i had a way, way too much fun with this one m'fraid. Ihad so much fun I started laughing at the absurdity. + comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

You can't breathe.

You stand there, your daughters by your sides, no more than five or so name days, dutiful as ever, the princess of the realm— the heir's wife, blindsided. Betrayed. Lied to. And you can't show them your grief, your anger, your shock— you smile, not betrayed, not realised, stupid.

Your act of stupidity protects you, for you can just tell that others, sharp-eyed as they are owning of sharper tongues, calculate the similarities between your husband and the child he is cooing at, at the arms of the Warden of the North's sister.

His bastard fucking sister.

You can't blink away as the facts, the threads, make a beautiful web in front of you. The conclusion is unmistakable. Jacaerys' consistent travels to the North, despite the campaigning for his mother's seat had not required the frequent stretches of long travels. How Aemond had remarked that the bastard is doing twice as much work in doing so, "as he should," Aemond murmurs darkly. "He casts a disgusting shadow on the Iron Throne, 'tis the least he can do."

The insistent of personally greeting the delegates from the North, you thinking it is just his wondrously formed friendship with the Lord Stark, had you dressing up and bringing your girls with him. So that your daughters can meet their father's fucking friend, one that occupied his time when he could have been at home, tending to his duties, his heirs.

And the woman who follows after the Wolf, the bastard Snow, his beloved sister. Dyanna had told you beforehand, as Lord Stark adores his only sibling. Their parenthood is unmistakable, dark hair and sharp chins. A Northern Beauty.

And then you stop, as there is a babe in her arms, no more than two name days at least.

And you see Jacaerys in his gaze.

His beautiful, warm brown eyes in the child in her arms, and as he stands there, your Prince of the Realm, too close for comfort, too close for platonic friendship, a familiarity one cannot deny— and that fucking, sweet-edged, tender smile on his face...

The same one he wore when you had given birth to his daughters. Soiled sheets, bloodied babes— it didn't matter. He held them to his arms with the very same smile, thanking you for birthing his babes.

A gut punch, a sharp inhale, an anger that coils and burns and roars.

Your bastard of a husband had fucked another bastard, and made himself a bastard little fucking family.

Life can ever be so cruel as it is humorous.

Daemon could have laughed at the prediction you found yourself in.

He sits to the left of his wife, the Queen who— in enough of itself, the evidence of the turmoil the court is about to get under, amusingly is talking quick with her Lord Hand; Corlys and Rhaenyra had not stopped pointedly looking at her heir, words too fast but unmistakable what the topic is if their gestures, the knot between their eyebrows, and unmistakable sighs and determined noises.

He, on the other hand, is pointedly staring at you.

You, who tries so hard to piece together an armour of stupidity, an air of nonchalance. As if there is no anger in your visage at your husband's attention completely stolen by Wolf's little sister and her son... who looked completely like him. Dark colouring, the First Men blood thick in his nose, his hair, at the curled edges of his baby-cheeked giggles.

When standing so close, faces to each other, there can be no doubt a mirror.

Or the lovesick smile on the mother's face, watching the Prince of the Realm interact with her son.

Together, the trio of them don't hint as much as a bead of Targaryen blood. One is able to pretend they are nothing more than a small... brown haired family.

Daemon presses his lips, trying desperately not to laugh so loudly.

He admired the boy, truly. Rhaenyra loved each child from her bosom with equal fervor, and Daemon was prepared take him as purely one of his own... but after he broke the betrothal with his daughter (though Baela could give lesser of a shit, though mildly dissatisfied as she was to become Queen, and the girl held her duties between canines) to marry a Hightower cunt... he had distanced himself from the boy.

Daemon viewed it as a sign of weakness, for he knew you. You were just like your mother, prodding into softened parts of his family— that green whore with his brother, young as she had been, his good sister Aemma had not been cold in their memories before she had found herself weightily pregnant with new heirs, and then Jacaerys, new to womanly spells, new to cunt, and you had him making vows in the ways of the dragonlords.

Though he can surmise that much of your mother's movements had not entirely been her own... Daemon knew that calculative look you got in your eye. Blink and it's gone, but your gaze sharpens, your mouth curls in a winning, prideful little smirk.

You were Otto Hightower's granddaughter alright, and you had wanted the Heir's Heir.

But now, it seems like, once a vow broken, it didn't really matter if it was a betrothal or a marriage to Jacaerys.

It brings a sick pull of satisfaction in him, that tugs him to look at you. Every time.

You laugh, tither, still evermore the gem of the feast— a feast you organised with the Lord Hand for your husband's absolutely exceptional diplomatic achievements in the North, truly, Daemon is laughing in the sidelines as the jests and songs make themselves — but Daemon is overtly familiar with dragons. And anger. And you simply stink of it. The way your eye twitches, the occasional grind of your jaw to how your fingers dig crescent moons into your palm. He catches blood in one blink then smeared, then gone, in another.

Your hold onto your armour— the Darling of the Realm, curated so painfully by a young, sly girl moving about the cesspit they call a crown's court — is breaking in pieces and tatters at each hour the feast went on.

It snarls. Like a dragon locked in the pits, tugging at reins, wishing to burn cities.

Maybe you aren't just another Hightower cunt after all.

Not purely at least, he thinks in distaste, staring at the dark green of your gown.

It is a childish tantrum, more than anything, for what is your Hightower green will do now? A bastard has been made, worse, a son. And though Jacaerys himself has muddied blood, he is still a Targaryen. His mother is Queen, prepared to make him an Heir to the Iron Throne as he had been legitimised as Laenor's son. A Velaryon. He bears the name, the crest, and the support of its house.

What is stopping him from marrying the Snow Bastard, legitimising the boy as his own, surpassing your own daughters?

Targaryens marry siblings, they also marry multiple wives.

It is a thought that he can see it dancing in your head— raw, enticing rage and bloodlust that tightens his breeches.

It is an interesting thing.

The green is disgusting, but Daemon can appreciate a young, fertile, Valyrian beauty.

Something your mother had ingeniously provided you and your siblings with, reining in her muddied blood to produce unmistakable Valyrian children. And as a smart little tart, you understood what to do with it.

When Daemon first met you, you were just one of the Hightower spawns that his brother had made to further his line. His brother's daughters—apart from Rhaenyra — were quiet things as babes and children. Odd the two of you were, but not really hostile. When you were introduced to him, your fat babe of a twin brother was teary-eyed and clinging to you, a quiet child with round eyes, staring at him inquisitively, as if challenging.

Then and there, Daemon disliked you so.

Even as you grew, the little of what he could see as he paid no mind of Viserys' other children, you grew up a fine royal, a princess of every word and sung note. Mentions of your progressive fight for the small folk, your charitable heart, your sweet nature that even his brother had made a note once or twice—

He thought it had been Otto Hightower who put you up to such machinations. Wouldn't be below him.

The night you bedded Jacaerys Velaryon, he was pleasantly surprised to find out it had been you all along.

And now here you are, betrayed as you had betrayed his daughter, delicious in your righteous anger and ripe (two babes before the year ended, Jace is an inglorious fool) for the taking. And youthful still. Smooth, soft skin, pretty lips and bright-eyed.

All your scheming, going as far as throwing your grandsire to Oldtown, it is obvious no one has wrangled the clever, spoiled little brat out of you.

As he sips his wine, amused and pleasantly hungry, he muses he might do a job or two of being the strong arm to do so.

He snorts, eyes straying back to the little First Men family.

There it is again. The jest that keeps on giving.

It was pride, truly, that kept you for most of the feast. That kept your gritted teeth to yourself, ducking into corners whenever your anger burned at your eyelids, stubbornly brushing stray tears away.

All is not lost, you stubbornly thought. You just had to plot.

But when Jace had taken your daughters, your Daenera and Aemma, gently tugging them to his bastard whore and his actual bastard to meet— finding your eyes, at that very moment as Daenera's precious, pureblooded hand shyly took the hand of her bastard brother, a fool's tender fucking simpleton of a smile on your husband's face —

Something in your head had snapped. A clean break.

And your armour had fallen. Like limestone from a fortress. Caved in ruins at the pool of your feet. Dark, furious loathe unfurled in your chest. Unable to handle it anymore, you had taken your dress and got out of the feast, for you could feel the urge of unsheathing a sword and going on a bloodied massacre, crowns and titles be damned.

You may not have a dragon, but you have its bloodlust.

Just as you are rushing to your chambers, you stop and make a different turn, knowing that if your husband had caught wind of such an ugly expression on your face, he would try and find you, talk to you, and you don't have the patience to cater to him at the moment— you find what you know of is an empty chamber, reserved for guests at the Keep.

It is a simple room with all the usual accruements. Most of the fanfare, the sheets, are in storage.

You start with a candelabra.

Raise it high before you are violently smashing it against the dresser, shrieks and guttural screams out of your mouth as you tear through the room like a typhoon, cursing Jacaerys, the North, and bastards to the Seven Hells.

None will be the wiser, for you had built your network well. Your spiders will pivot guards and strangers from this area, ensuring you a reprieve where your anger and grief can unfurl and manifest.

So you lose yourself, a dragon untethered. You get so into your rage, quiet in your thoughts, that you don't hear an intruder entering until there is a low, amused laugh too close for comfort.

You whirl around, tear-stained and rage-filled, and though the Rogue Prince expects you to fall into stutters, your eyes slit and you grip— when had you picked up a tome? — the tome tighter to your chest, snarling, "Get out."

Instead of surprise, or even offense, Daemon laughs as if you are the most amusing thing to him all night. Jesters and whores alike.

"I shall not." He makes a noncommittal hum around the dark room. "I rather like it here. It seems this chamber holds a much better entertainment than anything beheld at the feast."

You let out a dark, incredulous laughter. "I have no time for your toying, uncle, get out!" You toss the tome with fervour, but he's a warrior and he anticipates your anger, sidestepping easily before he's back to casual prowling.

"I do not have time to play jester for your entertainment," you hiss, unable to stop the hateful tears from spilling, brushing them away harshly as you watch him watch you.

He raises an eyebrow. "I am not asking you to."

"Are you here then for my humiliation? Press a bitter wound while it's still bleeding, is that it? Is that what would make the glory of your night?"

He snorts. "What would make the glory of my night is a warm body and a tight cunt."

Your face scrunches. "You are disgusting."

He barks out a laugh. "Not as disgusting as your brother."

"Aegon is no longer—"

"— or as stupidly naive as your husband."

A sharp intake of breath before you're once more cracking in broken rage and ghastly pain.

"Of course you would notice, who would not, he looks so much like his fucking bastard."

"Watch yourself, girl," he barks. "You are still talking about the Queen's heir."

A beautiful guard dog, you think, you snort. You push past him, gasping into the crisp, cool air, holding onto the balcony for dear life.

"His already diluted blood makes this conversation entirely hilarious to me I'm afraid." You look down and wonder how fast you will fall. How messy would such a death be? How much care there is left in your wake? Will your husband even care, now that he has his heir? Borne out of true love no doubt, despite such bastardly blood— or is that what makes it thrilling for them?

Mangled bone, spread thin blood— if you die such a way, it should be pretty. You hope it haunts the Keep of so many before you.

But if you die now, you will be replaced so easily. So prettily.

And your daughters—who will care for them? Will Jacaerys even care, if his bastards soon no doubt fill your once home, your mother, your brothers— your daughters pushed aside to make way for fucking dogs.

There is no satisfaction in such a plan.

There are many others.

The Rogue Prince makes his presence known by standing close to your back, close enough that you can smell him, that his heat is your own, as he hums, peering below as you have.

"Have you been drinking, zaldrītsos little dragon?" he whispers, tangling his fingers through your hair, running a lone finger down your neck, up and down in a tantalising movement. You can't help it, it feels comforting, leaning close to it despite such a breathy huff out of your lips.

"Since when am I dragon, kepus uncle? Haven't you always likened us muddied blood, filthier than dragonseeds?"

"I see that I am wrong," he says, almost idle as if he isn't devouring you in his gaze. How you feel soft, pliant under one finger after weighted in wine and the ruins of your anger, how you're almost purring and sweet like this, your fire alive but consistent. "Aōha perzys burns jehikagrī. Nyke hae ziry. Your flames burn bright. I like it."

"Hm. You've had sons, don't you uncle?"

"I have," he replies, amused.

"And many a children." You reach for his chin, your thumb rubbing his bottom lip. He's old, sure, but men don't have the same bodily issues as women. You know he could reach your father's age and be able to produce five more brats.

But his shoulders are strong, spry only as a swordsman can be.

And he isn't like he's loyal to Nyra, turning fully to you with a hand caressing your side.

His hand comes for your neck, halting your movement as he tests a squeeze. There is only much hatred as there is lust. And his cock is winning over his mind, for when your free hand, watching him intently, reaches for the hardness straining against his breeches, giving it a stroke, his breath stutters into a groan whilst his hips push into your hand.

"Dragons do not seek permission, niece of mine," he hums darkly. "Dragons take, or do you have too much of your Hightower cunt of a mother that you—"

You curl your hand over his cock until his breath hitches.

"I want a son. Surely you'd rather want for your true blood to sit on the Iron Throne? Your wife would remain Queen, her and her heir none the wiser. Any son of mine would be King regardless." Your voice is barely above whisper, stroking him as your squirm in his hold, his breath heavy by each promise, each tale you spin so tall. "Wouldn't you like that better? I am a Targaryen, as are you. Our blood would be pure."

"I have pureblooded sons, riñītsos little girl."

"But will they be king? With my husband as your wife's heir?" When his hold softens on your throat, you push yourself forward, pressing yourself against him. "Wouldn't you want your family's legacy, your legacy, unsullied with prettier blood?

"I want a son, uncle," you whimper, thickened with need and desire, willing him to bend and fold because men like Daemon are easy, because a loving marriage is one thing, a man who holds his house as his pride in another fist is another. "I want your seed to take root in me."

And it isn't like you're asking him to betray his Queen.

Daemon is surprisingly a soft lover, prone in a way to worshipping you even as you had gotten impatient and tried to get your way. His punishments are quick and precise, a hit on your thigh, a tighter squeeze in your throat, a firm bite in your breast enough to draw blood. He's soft but by choice, almost as if he is amusing you in each caress while one hand is holding you by your hair, fucking you down into the sheets.

His words aren't better, spun in hisses and spits, mocking laughter and groans.

"Do you want my seed, you little whore?"

"What would your husband say now, his pretty wife mewling for another? Or would he even care?"

"Your tears are pretty, if you want my seed, I think you need to be sobbing, hm?"

When he finally spills inside of you with nothing less of a broken, guttural roar, hips chasing the high, meeting your sensitivity once, twice, again— you are shattered in pieces and contradictions, floating and wide awake, pleasured and in pain.

He slaps your face gently after he's cleaned himself up, tucked his flaccid cock back in his breeches as he comes to your eye line. "Come to me again when you want my seed, hm? I shall prioritise your wants for the good of the realm but I dare say—"

He cocks his head with a smirk, feeling stirrings at the sight of your fucked out state, his seed spilling from your pretty hole that he can't help himself as he chases it with a finger, forcefully pushing it back in while your body trembles and twitches.

"— you may be with child soon enough, niece. I shall congratulate you and my son with the happy news."

Your eyes flutter close at the echoes of his disappearing footsteps.

Nine moons later, through a hearty, blood-soaked birth that rocked the keep with your wails of pure pain— much more painful than when your girls had come into the world — a baby boy is born of pure Valyrian colouring.

A fat babe who cried murder in his first seconds of life, and it is Caraxes who snarls and screeches into the high noon sky.

"I shall name him Daemon," you say to your husband beside you as you beheld the babe with a wondrous smile and a full heart.

"After your brother and my father," Jace says, smiling. "That is wonderful, my wife. He does look much like them."

Your smile curls, a finger rubbing your babe's fat cheek. "He does. And he will be strong swordsman." Your lashes flutter to Jace, poisoned vowels in each word that he blinks, startled. "Just like his father."

TAGGED @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata @xxvelvetxxxx @but-i-write-so-i-must-count @bunbunbl0gs @yazzzmints @bellstwd @hiraethrhapsody @watercolorskyy @fulla02 @menaosama @cookielovesbook-akie

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen fanfiction #daemon fanfic #daemon smut #daemon targaryen smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd smut #daemon targaryen x you #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ��#₊˚ପ⊹ hightower green 🕷#-ˋˏ ༻addendums & extras 💮༺ ˎˊ-#🌼━━･❪ requested ❫ ･━━🌻

3K notes · View notes

maidragoste · 9 months ago

Text

The Sea Dragon, The Clubfoot and The Green Queen

main masterlist of the series

I had to make another masterlist just for the questions and headcanons

Answering questions, headcanons, etc

Reader's baby is still going to be a Strong?

It’s a game changer that the Reader is Velaryon?

There something between the Reader and Alicent?

Will there be a happy ending for Harwin and Reader? + The closest thing to a happy ending between Harwin and Reader

Does Rhaenyra and Daemon's relationship affect Harwin?

The consequences of Rhaenyra's actions

Reader taking Rhaena unders her wing + Reader wants Baela to inherit Driftmark?

The blacks don't stand a chance against the sea dragon, the master of whispers and the green queen

How Daemon sees Reader

Reader shutting Rhaenyra and Daemon's mouth + Reader being Alicent's sun + Larys being Reader's moon

A Little Bit of Everything (The Velaryon + Reader and Alicent)

Did the court ever suspect that Reader's children are Larys' and not Harwin's?

Rhaenys and Lyonel's reaction to Harwin and Rhaenyra's affair

Is the Velaryon Reader a dragon rider?

The physical appearance of the strong twins

How does the sea dragon affect the relationship between the green children and rhaenyra’s children + Did people suspect the bastardry of Reader's children?

Laenor is such a frigging clown + Rhaenyra lied to Laenor?

The relationship between Rhaenyra and Reader

Velaryons

Headcanons (about Reader, the kids and Rhaenyra)

Corlys's position before the bastard of the children of Rhaenyra

Is Lyonel Strong going to die in the Harrenhal fire?

Nightwing wanting to comfort Reader after Laenor's death

More headcanons of the green children, reader, etc.

More headcanons of Reader and the children + Were Daemon and Reader ever friends?

More of the children and Reader

Me and The Devil (a short edit with Larys and Reader)

Rhaenyra jealous of Alicent + Harwin realizing Reader is the queen's lover

The Manderly house taking an important role in the Dance

Strong Twins Headcanons

Alyn and Baela can go through an enemies to lover's phase?

Baela and Alyn

Corlys finding out that his grandson has the same name as his bastard

Harwin is going to die?

So sea-dragon reader is gonna sleep with Daemon at Laena's funeral...?

Talking about Daemon and Reader

Daemon x Reader edit

Harwin x Reader edit

Did rhaenyra ever saw moments between reader and alicent that made her go "she never was like this with me" ?

Larys as father

Corlys and Sea Dragon edit

AU with Male!Alicent

AU Sea Dragon as Viserys' wife and Alicent as Daemon's

Larys x Sea Dragon edit

Headcanons

Sea Dragon and Daemon edit

Daemon x Sea Dragon edit

Sea Dragon gave alicent a little seashell to make her smile

Family Day in Driftmark

Viserys & Sea Dragon (Queen AU)

#the sea dragon the clubfoot and the green queen #alicent x reader #larys x reader #alicent hightower x reader #larys strong x reader #harwin x reader #harwin strong x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x you #hotd x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader

268 notes · View notes

endless-ineffabilities · 1 year ago

Text

Maroon (part three)

modern!Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

You were standin' hollow-eyed in the hallway Carnations you had thought were roses, that's us

a/n: proposed ages of the characters in this series - Viserys (64), Daemon (55), Alicent (53), Rhaenyra (44), Aemond (26), Helaena (25), Daeron (22), Aegon (30), Lucerys (22), Jacaerys (25), Joffrey (15), Alys (35) ---- as much as I'd like to pretend this took 5 minutes... heh. The Math simply wasn't Mathing for a long while. Anywho, just thought I'd write this in since I've aged up the characters.

Also - with all the time I've spent on this fic, I've decided to ultimately restructure part three. So part four will cover the night of the Dragonstone ball, where it's all about to go down.

themes/warnings: angst!, mutual pining, jealous!Aemond, language, description of accident/injury, Aemond in his stalker era

word count: 8.7k

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Everything that occurs leading up to the Dragonstone ball - the outcome of the accident, Aemond struggling with his current state, and the reader left hoping for a love, that perhaps, never truly was.

Lucerys Velaryon has already garnered quite the reputation, at only 22 years old.

A darling of the masses, everyone loved the young heir to Driftmark, a great company built by his grandfather, the notorious shipping tycoon, Corlys Velaryon.

But having the name Velaryon is a double-edged sword for Luke.

It only increases his privilege and prestige, already being a Targaryen on his mother’s side. Luke is set for life; he has everything he could ever need at his disposal. As a young boy, he has always enjoyed cars. Tinkering with them under the guidance of his father Laenor, as well as his uncle Daemon. Luke got himself into kart racing at the age of 9. Illegal street racing, much to his mother’s disappointment, at the age of 14. And just recently, he has been competing in Formula 2 division racing.

From the outside, he is just like any other boy. Apart from the fact that his family is literally worth billions, that is.

But Luke has never been content. He has never been self-assured, borne out of the truth, one that everyone simply chooses not to mention, that Laenor Velaryon is not his true father. That he is a bastard, and therefore, not the rightful heir to Driftmark. He has always known this, despite his mother’s pleas otherwise. He knows this each time he hears the employees of Driftmark whisper amongst themselves after he passes by. Whenever he is invited to sit in the council meeting of the company, he feels his true status in how the shareholders disregard his opinions like he’s just some intern.

He grew up amidst the tension between himself and his brothers, and their young uncles, especially Aemond. When Aemond and Lucerys were growing up together, they simply did not learn to exist well around one another. Luke had bullied his young uncle long ago - an act of rebellion, of a boy growing up with resentment in his bones - when Aemond had been weak and scrawny as a child. Aemond retaliated in kind; but he finally matured and found some inner calm in his mid-twenties. A year or two before you met him.

Luke's uneasiness has only worsened, now that he is nearly set to take his place on Driftmark. Since his family hails from Valyria, everyone expects them to uphold the tradition of only passing down inheritance to rightful heirs. Never bastard children or outliers.

But what the hell. Luke has never been one to follow the rules. His very existence does not abide by them, so why should he?

The night of the accident, Luke had to sit in yet another board meeting for the company. This time, Aemond was there too. Only he was treated as he should, being a Targaryen. Like someone capable, someone worthy.

It should not have made any difference, really. Luke thought he was used to it all by now - the stares, the hushed whispers, the poorly masked scorn. They think Aegon or Aemond to be more competent. If the board had their way, it would not be Luke who would inherit Driftmark. Perhaps, his grandfather’s brother, Vaemond. Or hell, even his cousins Baela and Rhaena, though they never expressed any interest in the business.

Anyone but Luke.

-----------------------------

As a child, Aemond Targaryen saw himself as some kind of a ghost. A spectre simply moving around his family, their company, their horde of sycophants. Not the first to be considered. Not the designated heir to anything. The second son of the owner and chief executive of Dragonstone, and his much younger, barely beloved second wife.

Once upon a time, his father Viserys had been well and truly happy.

He was married to the love of his life, Aemma, and they had a lovely daughter who was loved by all due to her charm and fiery nature.

When Aemma passed in childbirth, Viserys had been near inconsolable. But he could not remain so for very long. Soon enough, his board of trustees, his advisors, urged him to remarry. He did not have an heir yet after all, and as per tradition, he soon needed to have a son so that he might raise him to become the next CEO and owner of their business empire.

But Viserys decided to essentially bypass such tradition, for less than a year after his wife’s passing, he had publicly announced his only daughter as his successor. It did not matter what the board of trustees or the shareholders preferred. They may have considerable sway over the affairs of the company, but in the end, the word of Viserys prevails.

And so Aemond and his three siblings have been pushed to the periphery. Not that they ever stood a chance anyway. In the end, their father will always uphold his precious Rhaenyra over them. Their mother plays the part of a mere trophy wife, though she is a noble Hightower herself, having to feign contentment in spite of all the times she and her children are slighted.

Aemond thought himself calmer now, and matured. Painstakingly made every effort to be far from that weak boy who had no place anywhere. He is still unsure if he likes the person that he is, and perhaps he never has. But he morphed - or masked - this self-loathing into an unfailing desire to do better, to be better. He’s always wanted more. And he has learned to be strong for his mother, his sister. Himself.

And now, you. How unpredictable you had been, bursting into his life like the Dornish comet of ‘07. He knew early on that you liked him, sort of, with how your eyes would dart back and forth to his direction whenever he’s in the room.

It made him uneasy, at first, when his looks developed in such a way that garnered him plenty of attention. The spectre of the city turned ‘Prince of the city’, a strapping young man who can have anyone he wishes.

But, funnily enough, all those socialites, models, glorified urban princesses with millionaire parents, Aegon’s harem of traditionally near-perfect friends from Lys that he often offers - none of them ever stood a chance to you, his sister Helaena’s earnest, gentle, and quick-witted best friend.

Aemond would be lying if he said he fell for you immediately. It would be far from his nature to do such a thing. But he had, slowly, found himself enveloped in your light, and only feeling warm, only feeling home - only feeling like he could truly love himself - when you look at him with those soul-piercing eyes of yours. Maybe he isn’t so bad after all, if you can see him in the way you do. And he trusts your judgement; when you profess to want him in turn, then he must be worth more than he thinks.

But the night of the accident, his forsaken shadow seemed to envelop him like an old friend. One that he can never shake. His anger, his darkness. He had long buried the Aemond Targaryen who frequently got into fistfights. The Aemond who deliberately ordered the expulsion of certain people he simply did not like from the employ of their company. The Aemond who chose to openly mock the truth of his raven-haired cousins’ parentage.

That night, that Aemond resurfaced, and with dire consequences.

The night of the accident, four months before the Dragonstone ball

The storm had begun just before the board meeting ended. Heavy rain spattered against the Driftmark tower, with the night sky illuminated by streaks of lightning.

Aemond and Lucerys were coming to a head at the council table, and the other members were having to intervene at multiple points, just to mitigate the rising tension. The storm brewing inside the young men’s hearts could easily rival the one threatening to flood the streets.

Lucerys repeatedly interrupted Aemond’s suggestions, having grown tired of his own being cast aside by everyone else.

“Wait for your turn to speak, my Strong nephew.” Aemond smoothly countered when he did not get to finish addressing Vaemond Velaryon.

“I didn’t think what you were saying was particularly important, uncle.” Luke retaliated in kind.

“Hmm. Some things never change, it seems. You still don’t know your place.”

“My place will soon be the highest seat of Driftmark. And you will still be grandfather’s second son, a mere placeholder at Dragonstone.”

“Please, sirs,” the meeting director complained. “We must get on with more urgent matters.”

Aemond and Luke barely contribute for the remaining minutes, opting to glare and sneer at each other from across the table.

But their council tiffs would not end up being the most unpleasant occurrence for that night. As if the storm also cast its darkness over their reasoning, they soon found themselves racing towards Gods Eye.

-----------------------------

It was meant to be a game. A show of bravado. Two young men, though in their depths still wounded boys, found themselves spewing offenses in an attempt to lower the other.

“You might inherit Driftmark, but everyone knows the truth, plain as day. You will always be a bastard.”

“Sure, but I am still more than you. What have you ever truly accomplished, uncle? Poor y/n, if she’s fallen for your tricks. Does she know who you truly are? She’s too bloody good for you.”

When Luke raised the challenge of racing to the edge of the cliff of Gods Eye, Aemond grasped at the opportunity to humiliate his nephew. To prove all of his claims to be wrong.

It might have been either one of them, or both, who deigned to edge their car close to the other’s, trying to veer it off course. Just a little nudge to make it spin out of the road.

But the turbulent weather was strong, causing mud and water to pool along the gravel. When the cars collided, Aemond’s took the brunt of the hit. Before he could even register the impact, his car was already spinning right towards the treeline.

Luke had veered off road, his car rotating upside down. His right leg suffered from multiple fractures, including a busted knee cap.

But Aemond…

His screams resounded despite the ceaseless pattering of rain, louder than even the roaring thunder overhead. A shard of glass had been wedged deep on one side of his face, splitting the flesh open.

So much blood had pooled into his one remaining eye, that he feared he went entirely blind. The memory of your face flashed across his mind, and he despaired at the thought of never being able to see you again.

Later in the operating room, when the full extent of his injuries was delineated to him, Aemond thought that perhaps, it is you who would never want to see him again.

Why would you, with what has now become of his appearance?

Two months before the Dragonstone ball

You’re finding it hard not to keep tabs on Aemond, still asking Helaena every now and then if he’s really alright. To which she always responds with some version of “He’s okay. He just needs some time.”

Time. That’s fine. You suppose that the accident must have shaken him up, enough to cause him to go into hiding and to avoid everyone.

Unfortunately… painfully, including you.

You find your mind drifting back to him every day - during your lectures, at work, at home, whenever you’re spending time with Helaena and you’re trying so hard to simply not just pester her about her brother.

You think back to those secret moments you shared in crowded rooms, up in their penthouse, whenever Aegon would throw a party. Back then, you did not know one another yet, not really. But he would sit on the couch adjacent to yours, shoot you a smile, and silently keep you company while you wait for Helaena to return. He did so because he could sense that you were anxious, and that loud gatherings aren’t really your thing, as he revealed to you when you were… dating. As short of a time as that might have been.

Gradually, you got to know him, in all those rare moments. His knowing, mischievous smiles. The subtitles nuances in his expression. His calculated manner of speaking.

You knew him, you had him, you lost him. Well, you do still know him - he is your friend, is he not? But it just as well could have been the end, the night of the accident. He has become a kind of spectre to you, leaving you yearning for what could have been.

Weekends offer some respite from the whole ordeal of having to miss him. Your job at the bookstore allows you to just sit in silence, entertain customers once in a while, and bury your nose in your book-of-the-week.

Once in a while, a friend even drops by. This time, Jace burst through the entryway, bell chiming in his wake, beaming with a brown takeaway bag in one hand.

“Hey, stranger,” you put down your novel, and leave your post on the counter to greet your dear friend with a tight hug. Jace takes note of the fact that your smile doesn’t reach your eyes, and his spirits sink. But he immediately gets to work on making you feel better.

“I’d say you’re going to love me for this, but you probably do already,” he says, presenting you with the paper bag.

“Don’t be so sure,” you jokingly say, narrowing your eyes at him, before peering inside, hit with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and pastries.

You shrug, starting to dig in with no hesitation. “Actually, good of you to be sure.”

He laughs as you drop the bag on the counter, and rip it open to reveal all the goods. He takes his own coffee and leans closer to have a bite of the profiterole you eagerly wave in front of his face.

“Thanks,” you manage to puff out, with a mouthful of pastry.

“Anytime, sweet.” Jace swallows, giving you a once over. “How are you holding up?”

It’s hard to act all nonchalant when he gives me those puppy-dog eyes. Jace’s innate sincerity almost makes you want to just cave in and vent all about Aemond. “Nice of you to be concerned, but it’s not like I was the one who got into an accident.”

“I know, sassy, but I also know that you and Aemond were… you have seen him recently, no?” he asks, sounding certain of the answer to his question, which downright confuses you.

“No,” you shake your head. “Along with the rest of the city, I haven’t seen nor heard anything from him.”

“Really?” he remarks, incredulous.

“Come on, Jace,” you take a comforting sip of coffee, still warm. “You know this. He doesn’t want to see me.”

“Huh,” his head tilts back slightly as he mulls over your response. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“I could’ve sworn that was his car parked across the street. Right outside.” he says, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. You freeze, but your eyes are drawn straight toward the shop windows.

“That’s not - ,” That’s not possible, you want to say. But your feet already drag you to the edge of the shop, with Jace in tow. “Which one is his?” you ask, knowing Aemond’s got quite a few cars, privileged boy that he is. Your voice comes out in a hushed tone, as if you don’t want Aemond himself to hear. Ridiculous, you chide yourself, it probably isn’t even him.

“That silver Jaguar idling on the curb,” Jace answers, and you see it. Slantwise on the opposite side of the road, stopped right before the bus stop across the bookshop.

“Are you sure?”What the hell could he be here for? You didn’t want to admit it, but you feel the hope right in your bones. You want him here, of course. You want him to come see you.

“Yes,” Jace easily replies. “There’s only one vehicle in the city with that personalized plate."

Before you can stop yourself, you take a tentative step outside, hand still on the shop door.. I’m sure he can see me, if he’s really there.

The windows of the Jaguar have the darkest tint, making it nearly impossible to see inside.

“That’s him,” Jace says from behind you. “He doesn’t let anyone else drive his cars. I even thought he was already inside the shop when I arrived.”

“Well shit,” you breathe, your heart racing in your chest. “What do I do?”

“What is he doing?”

“Fuck it.” You only manage to take a step forward on the sidewalk before the car roars to life, engine purring smoothly. Aemond maneuvers the car from its spot and leaves, driving right past you, a cloud of leaves and dust billowing all around.

“What the fuck?” Jace scoffs, thoughtfully waving his arm around to keep the dust from your face. “What is he on?”

“Aemond,” his name escapes your lips in a soft whisper. A silent plea that will never reach him, but you say it all the same. That it doesn’t matter to you, whatever state he is in after the accident. That even though he chose Alys over you, you can understand, or at least try to. He is still the same boy who captured your heart not so long ago.

But why did he just leave? What is he so scared of?

“Come on,” Jace says, holding the door open for you. “Your coffee’s getting cold.”

When you go past the entryway, you turn on your heel and hang up the ‘On a break. Come back soon’ sign on the door. Sighing heavily, you shrug at Jace, “What a day, huh. You sure know how to bring drama with you.”

Jace only smiles, well-used to your banter, “How is this my fault?”

“I dunno,” you raise your hands, and walk back to the counter. You’re not sure how you feel at the moment - anxious, worried, disappointed? It’s all up in a haze since Aemond suspiciously drove off, and so, you can’t control the flood of dry sarcasm spilling out of you. Like some kind of coping mechanism. “You must have called Aemond here, so you two can drive my poor heart into a frenzy. Like I don’t already have a lot on my plate.”

“Oh yeah, definitely.” Jace slowly nods, playing along. “Aemond hasn’t even spoken to me since everything went down. But I definitely sought him out today, and definitely forced him to watch you from out there in his car like some obsessed creep.”

“I knew it!”

-----------------------------

Fifteen minutes into your impromptu break, the tone has lightened to some degree, and you sit at a corner table with Jace, sipping the remains of your coffee.

After a lot more banter, and catching up about Luke, Joff, and the rest of his family - those who can still tolerate your presence,that is - Jace finds you staring blankly at a bookshelf. “Hey,” he says, “I don’t think my uncle is hiding in between those books.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Anyway, enough about him, eh?” Jace offers, taking your hand from across the table. “I actually wanted to ask you something.”

You squeeze his hand in return, staring back into his doe brown eyes, “Yeah?”

“Seeing as Aemond isn’t taking you to the Dragonstone ball,” he pauses, gauging your reaction. He decides that it’s all good when you remain impassive, “How would you like to come with me instead? I did mean to ask you, you know, but dear uncle beat me to it.”

“Oh.” Your hand loosens around his a bit, as you take in his words. “Well, I mean I would love to but - ”

Jace adds quickly, as if he is already reading the thoughts whirring through your mind. “No pretenses about it, I assure you. I’m not expecting anything else. Just that you honour me by being my partner to the ball.”

“Mmm,” your shoulders relax, and you find yourself smiling at Jace’s heartfelt nature. One that immediately warmed you to him when you first met. “Partners, huh?”

His tongue makes a clicking sound in confirmation. “What do you say?”

“Jace,” you start, weighing the options in your mind. “I would go with you, of course - ”

“That settles it then.”

“- but I just… I don’t know, if… Aemond does not want to see me, maybe I shouldn’t just show up at the ball?”

Jace rolls his eyes, “He doesn’t own the bloody ball, you know. He can’t control whether you come or not.” He leans in, voice lowering like he’s sharing a devious ploy, “Besides, if he doesn’t want to see you, then why would he be loitering across the street simply to watch you through the shop windows? Let’s be real now, eh?”

Fair point. You reply, “Far be it from me to know what he’s up to.”

“So come to the ball with me and ask him yourself. I’ll even back you up. With my own pitchfork and everything.” The way his eyes blaze in excitement sparks something in you. Being around Jace is always fun, like you’re free to do anything - you could even cause any kind of trouble and he would only be cheering you on.

If only… if only you liked him the way you do a certain someone, then you might actually have a greater sense of calm. Your self-doubt might be assuaged, your days brighter.

But no. It is Aemond who fills your wandering thoughts. Aemond who haunts your sleepless nights. It was him who nearly made your heart stop that night on their rooftop, who laughed with you and held you close when you were a fumbling, wine-stained mess.

Perhaps unfortunately so… it is Aemond whom you love.

That realization makes you straighten in your seat, scaring some sense back into you. Fuck, what am I even thinking? It’s Jace right in front of me. Jace who is asking me to the ball.

“You got yourself a deal, mister,” you playfully hold your hand out for him to shake.

-----------------------------

Later that night, the Targaryen penthouse in the Crownlands Tower is relatively quiet. Most of the family is away, save for Helaena, their housekeeper Talia…

… and Aemond, who sits in front of his desk, staring at the object atop it which is aglow under lamplight. His eye drifts to the metal surface of the lampshade itself, and he sees it. A scar stretched from his forehead to his cheekbone, with its edges tinged with maroon.

Revolting. It’ll take some time to heal, they all say. Well it’s been two long fucking months, and it doesn’t feel any better. Nothing feels right.

It isn’t fair, his mother wailed upon seeing him. None of this is. It was the rogue Lucerys’ fault, she insisted, for egging Aemond to go on a damned speed chase in the middle of fucking storm.

His father Viserys merely appraised him for a long moment, before mumbling something that sounded like, “I am sorry this happened, but you’ll be alright”. Then to his mother, “Lucerys is injured as well. This is what they’ve always done, as you know. Luke and Aemond don’t really get along but they’re grown now.”

He added with a warning gaze to Aemond, “They have to learn to be civil to one another. We are all family, after all.”

“Family,” Alicent spat the word like a curse. “Family should not be the cause of grievous harm.”

Aemond remembers the shrug that Viserys did. It is a gesture he has seen endlessly, it might even be the first thing he remembers of his father. All of his pains, and his achievements will always be met with a nonchalant gesture. Some father he is.

There’s only one thing that would make Aemond feel better in this moment, and even that, he cannot allow himself to have. He shall not present himself, this self, to you. He looks at his reflection and he hates what he sees. Perhaps he always has. But he also learned to love himself around you. How easy it can be, like second nature.

Maybe he was drawn to the fact that you are not from his world, with all its intrigue and playacting. How you choose not to perceive status as a tool, and how you can be kind to anyone. You, the girl who always keeps a book in her bag, even at parties, even if she most likely won’t have time to read it. Just in case, you had said, you never know. You, though very well-mannered, called one of Helaena’s so-called friends a “spoiled cunt”, when you heard her making nasty jokes at Helaena’s expense behind her back.

“Sorry you had to hear that,” you had said to Aemond in a grumbling tone, still quite irate, when you found out that he was just in the library adjacent to their living room. “They were just being so… so…”

“Fucking rude?” he finished your thought, his dimples showing in amusement when your eyes widened. “Don’t worry, doll. Maybe I would have done the same. Though that Beatrice would never say shit about Helaena in front of me, seeing as she tried to claw off my jacket once. Her fake nail got caught in the leather. Her attempt at seduction, I suppose.”

Your mouth fell open, then closed once more. You were at a loss. Your blood was just boiling at having to confront Beatrice, who has thankfully left the penthouse, and now Aemond is standing in front of you. Aemond, sharing some story, in good humour. About some girl trying to get with him, and failing. Later on, you will find yourself jumping in frustration in your living room, thinking how in the hell your mind must have short-circuited because you responded with, “It’s a good thing I keep my fingernails trimmed and plain then.”

It was Aemond's turn to stand there, lips parted in surprise at your sudden show of audacity. Where has this girl been hiding all this time? Or has she always been this way? Then your face morphs into one of shock, and you remain still, waiting for some other pin to drop. Something to distract Aemond so you can mumble some excuse and run away. Aemond observes the minute changes in your expression, like you’re struggling to get your bearings, and he finds it all endearing.

Suddenly, the door you had been leaning against is pried open, making you take a step closer to Aemond. An unruly, blonde mop of hair that can only belong to Aegon pokes itself inside, “What are you nerds doing in the damn library?”, then he turns on his heel letting the door slowly close on its hinges, “Never mind, I’m gonna get a drink!”

At the exact same time, you and Aemond burst out in a fit of laughter, the pure and melodic sound of it echoing throughout the room. The very first time that Aemond witnessed you laughing freely in front of him, and his thoughts would later drift back to this moment. To the way your eyes lit up, how your teeth clamped down on your bottom lip to keep from laughing harder, and how your dainty hand clasped his forearm, holding on to him for a while.

He did not know then, not yet at least, that he had started falling for you.

When your desire had become apparent, you did not attempt to cross a line. Correctly inferring that Aemond valued his solitude, you became content with admiring him from afar, treasuring every small interaction.

Everyone keeps remarking at how different he is around you, and maybe you do not realize the truth of their claims, because you had never seen him… like this. So broken. His mask of composure torn to shreds.

No longer the caring, attentive, and self-assured Aemond you claimed to desire.

“Aemond?” Helaena's voice drifts from his door, which is opened narrowly. She silently lets herself inside when he does not respond.

“Care for some dinner?” she asks, her gentle voice almost breaking through Aemond’s resolve. Perhaps it might have been able to, but not anymore.

“No, I’m not hungry.” Aemond answers, barely audible.

“Right.” Helaena doesn’t press further; she knows that nothing will shake her brother while he’s in such a state, so she tries to bring up something else. Something that might get his attention. “So, I, uh… y/n just called me.”

Helaena notices Aemond slightly tense up at the mention of your name. So that’s what it takes, she thinks.

“Aemond,” she steps closer, now standing beside his chair. “Why were you outside the bookstore where she works?”

Aemond shuts his eyes. Of course you had seen him. And he saw you, clear as day. Beautiful as ever. With bloody Jace right next to you, laughing while sharing some coffee he had brought.

“She misses you, you know,” Helaena says, and the words drive straight through Aemond’s heart. “I really think you just should speak to her.”

“Hmm.”

“What are you even afraid of?”

A long pause, as Helaena waits for a reply. Fidgeting with the edge of her sweater, she begins to say something more, when Aemond finally says, in a muffled, reluctant tone, “She deserves better.”

“Of course she does!” Helaena perches on the edge of Aemond’s desk, and his eye drifts over her for just a second, before looking down at the object again. “So call her and - ”

“Better than me.” Aemond clarifies, croaking the final word as if in pain.

“Oh, Aemond.” Helaena’s lifts an arm in an attempt to offer comfort, but Aemond instinctively flinches.

“No.” He breathes. “I can’t.”

Helaena nods in understanding, though her heart aches at the sight of her brother like this. She looks to the side, and sees the journal-seeming object sitting on his brother’s desk. The thing he seems to be staring at.

Helaena lets her fingers run over the smooth forest green cover, and she instantly recognizes it to be Valyrian leather. A rare commodity, so this must not be just any ordinary journal.

“May I?” she whispers, to which her brother shrugs in response.

She gently pries open the leather clasp, and she sees a dedication on the first page, in a swooping scrawl that can only be Aemond’s. Some special ink was used, staining the page with a deep shade of maroon. It reads in High Valyrian, their native language - Ñuha prūmia iksis aōhon.

“I meant to give that to her… before…”

My heart is yours.

“Aemond-” Helaena mutters, her mind stuck on the words, and she knows exactly who they are meant for.

Aemond abruptly rises from his seat, and puts on his black coat, “Just put that back where you found it.” Reaching for something else on his desk, he puts it on his face to conceal his deformity.

Before her brother reaches the door, Helaena manages to voice out, “Where are you going?”

“Away.”

Two weeks before the Dragonstone ball

The accident finally seems to have departed from the mainstream, turning into fodder for small talk as all sensational news pieces do.

Unsurprisingly, despite the tragic event, excitement abounds. The city is buzzing in anticipation. Everyone is already poring over the main list of attendees which has been made public online. You only glanced at it once to confirm that you are on the list as Jace’s partner, but something else catches your attention. You immediately close the tab in your browser after you read - Aemond Targaryen - and across from his name, as his designated partner - Alys Rivers.

“For fuck’s sake,” you sigh, biting your lip. You opt to open Youtube, but immediately your homepage reminds you of your recent activities. Not stalking, no. Just some curious research. Aemond has never been one to give interviews. That’s more in Aegon’s wheelhouse. Daeron especially, since he also works as a model, gracing the front cover of Vogue thrice already at only 22.

When Aegon graces the headlines, it’s most likely due to some disorderly conduct at a high-class party or a local dive bar. True to his brand, there is no in-between when it comes to Aegon. It’s either go big or go home. Which usually means he ends up drunk on the sidewalk, having to call Aemond to pick him up and give him a ride without letting their parents know.

But they always find out, of course. It’s hard to be discreet when you’re one of the most recognizable faces in the country.

As for Aemond, you’ve always found it hard to find even a single crumb of him from the internet. Save for a couple of sightings, including those of him and Alys Rivers, and clippings from the few times when he would speak in press conferences on behalf of Dragonstone. But even those were kept mostly private, and not freely available on Youtube.

As it happens, there have been some rumours of Aemond allegedly coming into blows with the Duke of Lannister and his entourage, after humiliating the man’s sister. Onlookers claimed that they saw the poor girl coming onto Aemond at some party in Pentos, flirting with him. Apparently, he was far from welcoming of her affections. There were some pictures of the fight, or at least, that’s what people say. You were not in the loop when the news spread, sitting through a lecture. Any trace of such pictures quickly vanished from the internet. The Targaryens are always on the lookout to protect their precious image, but they’ve never done anything so methodical when it comes to such occurrences, such as Aegon’s countless mishaps.

Aemond does have an Instagram profile. You asked him about it once, ages ago, even before your brief - what would you call it… Tryst? Dating period? Well, whatever it was, it’s all done for now.

“Was it your idea to have a profile anyway?” you asked him, after he had playfully teased you about stalking him. That was the only verified account of Aemond’s that you found, complete with the blue tick. His profile was empty, and the following list was at a whopping zero. Though of course, he had about 3.7 million followers, just waiting for the moment that he would choose to do anything on the site.

“Yeah, I suppose.” Aemond looked down and smiled, and you did not know it, but he found himself feeling warm due to the interest you were giving him. He’s confident about nearly everything, but when on the receiving end of attention from the woman he secretly longed for, he felt almost shy. “It was mostly due to the fact that I wanted to have one sole verified account online. I’ve heard talks of impersonators sending people messages and all that. Fucking annoying.”

“Ah, yeah.” You did not tell him, of course, but you knew of those fake accounts, having clicked on several slightly convincing ones to see if they were actually his. But none of them matched. You found yourself muttering, “He would never post that.”

“Didn’t hurt that I got to look through your pictures, too, love.” He smirked then, regaining his confidence.

You nearly melted into a puddle on the fancy designer-carpeted floors of their apartment, right then and there.

That doesn’t matter now. You sigh, slamming your laptop shut. Instead you choose to dramatically jump onto your bed and growl your frustrations out onto a pillow.

You roll over, amused at the whole thing. The digital alarm clock Helaena gave you reads 6:32 pm, it’s a Friday night, and you’re left with nothing to do. You’ve already finished the majority of your exams, and for the next month or two, you’re free to go on holiday and do whatever you wish.

But what? You finally decide to give Helaena a call, and reach for your phone on the nightstand. But right then, it lights up. ‘Hel’s Bells’ is calling you. An inside joke the two of you came up with about a week after you met.

“Speak of the devil,” you smile, and press accept. “Hel! I hope you’re just about as bored as I am.”

She laughs on the other end, “I don’t even have time to be bored. Mother has us doing all these preparations for the ball.”

“Do you need any help? I’m no expert at pomp and pageantry but I’ll do my best.” She had just stayed at your apartment a few nights ago for a sleepover, and you noticed that she was careful when mentioning anything about the ball. Trying not to stray into Aemond and Alys territory for your sake, you assumed.

“Sure, come over whenever you want. I don’t really have any idea what it’s all for, but hey, at least we get to put on fancy dresses and look pretty.”

“Oh, you always look pretty,” you say sincerely.

“Thank you, doll,” she says, before sighing dramatically. “Anyway, I actually called to tell you something. You’re going to come over to our place on Sunday night. We’re throwing a little party.”

“A party, huh.” Will Aemond be there, you wanted to ask, but held back.

You haven’t seen him for the last three months, after the fateful night of the accident. There was that incident when he parked outside the bookstore, but it was barely anything.

Word on the street is that the ‘Prince of the city’ had gone into hiding, as comical as that sounds to you. For what exactly? There has been speculation - perhaps he was left horribly disfigured from the accident, which is also why there isn’t any trace of the alleged pictures taken of him in Pentos. But Helaena immediately dissuaded that notion. My brother is not disfigured, she insisted when you brought it up, he’s simply recovering.

If Aemond wants to keep things to himself, then he has the right to do so. He would tell you if he wanted. Call you, send you a message. Anything.

“A party,” Helaena repeats. “It’ll be for our inner circle. Which includes you, of course. A little prequel to the ball, so everyone can catch up with each other.”

“Aegon’s idea?” you guessed with a wry smile.

“There might be a direct correlation there, yeah,” Helaena laughs. “Anyway, come over! Since you’re coming with Jace to the ball, then we have to plan everything for you, too! What colour dress do you want to wear? Well, there is a theme but we’ll work with that. Mum assigned a stylist and hairdresser for me, which means they’re for you too and - ”

“Hel, I don’t really need - ”

Then she says something that puts a stop to your protest. “Oh, Aemond won’t know what’ll hit him.”

“Huh.” The thought of seeing Aemond again gives you a surge of excitement. And nervousness. Your yearning for him reawakens, but it never truly left.

Having made her point, Helaena knows she’s got you hook, line and sinker. “I’ll expect you in the next hour.”

-----------------------------

Sunday came rolling over soon enough, and the party at the Targaryen penthouse is well under way.

The ballroom on the 2nd floor is packed, filled with people whom you either don’t know or barely recognize. Of course, it wouldn’t be complete without some snooty heirs and heiresses who would openly regard you with what could be confusion or derision. Until a Targaryen or Velaryon would approach you and eagerly whisk you away in conversation.

“Who is she?” you hear someone say when Jace takes your hand and directs you to sit on the couch with him and Daeron. “Why is Jace so close to her? And what on earth is she wearing?”

Unfazed by it all, and already used to such comments, you smile sweetly in that girl’s direction and greet her with a friendly, “Hi, how are you doing?”, without giving her a chance to respond.

Jace watches the exchange proudly. As you sit down, he says, “Aegon invited her, I think. I don’t really know, I don’t like her much.”

“How come?” you jest. “You two have so much in common. Heirs to the kingdom and all that.” Your sarcasm again comes out of you in waves, trying to temper your nerves. You look around the room, though it is not the first time you’ve scanned through everything.

“I’d much prefer your company,” Jace easily says, then notices your divided attention. “He isn’t here.”

In a transparent attempt at surprise, you ask,“Who?”

Daeron overhears the exchange, after his friend stands up to get a drink. “Aemond’s not here, y/n. At least I haven’t seen him. Last I heard he was holed up in our holiday estate in Pentos.”

“Oh.” Your face visibly falls. You didn’t know what to expect, really. Of course Aemond would not just show up at this party after avoiding everyone for too long.

“He will be at the Dragonstone ball though,” Daeron pats your knee in sympathy. “He might be going through some shit, but mum would lynch him if he misses that event.”

Jace and Daeron continue to look at you, seeing if they need to offer more comfort, and you can’t stand it. “Alright, you two. Thanks for… I don’t know… but this is a party! We should just go and have fun. No need to be concerned about me and…” You choke up at his name, negating your false show of indifference.

“Okay,” Jace says, saving you from saying anything further. “How about I get you a drink, hmm?”

“Yeah,” you say, but something crosses your mind. You stand at the same time as Jace, grabbing his arm, “Actually, I’ll go get some air first.”

“Are you alright?” This time, Jace’s sincere gaze is not enough to distract you from that familiar gnawing ache.

“I am,” you smile placatingly. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”

-----------------------------

Aemond Targaryen, contrary to what everyone in the party believes, is no longer wasting his days in Pentos.

He had slipped back into the city earlier that night, and in the safety of their 7-floor penthouse. Right in time for the revelry. He has no intention of making an appearance, but when Helaena let it slip that you would be attending, he could not help himself.

The fact that you would be under the same roof was enough to get Aemond to scurry back home. While he might not be ready to show himself just yet, there are methods which allow him to see you. Watch you.

Helaena would probably smack him upside the head, if she found out. That not only had Aemond come back without telling her, but also that he is watching her friend through the CCTV cameras littered throughout the penthouse.

Perhaps it is unsavoury, and you might cross your arms and huff at him if you found out. Oh, what I would give to see that in person. But he’ll take what he can get. Do what he must. To still have you, still see you.

His left knuckle is taut, still bandaged and bruised from his recent activities. Luckily, the stitches on his face had not come loose and the medical treatment his mother is putting him through has done considerable wonders. What would you think, I wonder, if you saw me like this, my love.

His laptop is propped up on his desk, right next to the green journal he means to give you. On the screen, he watches as you trail Helaena for a while. As you sit alone, watching everything unfold. As Jace comes for you, and you sit together on a couch. Too close. Too comfortable for Aemond’s liking. Is something going on between you and my fucking Strong nephew?

When news reached him that you would be coming to the ball with Jace, Aemond had broken something. He can barely remember what it was, just the sound of it shattering against the wall. A wine bottle? A vase? A mirror? Whatever it was sent his company fleeing from their table, and Criston had rushed forward to make sure that he wasn’t harmed.

Aemond glares at the screen you walk after Jace and whisper something close to his ear.

Jace regards you for a long while. He better not…

But then you nod and smile, stepping away from him. Aemond finds himself breathing a sigh of relief, predictably, and he almost snorts at his own reaction.

You walk out of the ballroom, and Aemond has to switch between cameras to follow your path. You pause down the hallway, and lean next to the wall.

What are you doing, ñuha jorrāelagon?

Seemingly decided on something, you swing the door to the staircase, forgoing the elevator. The cameras on each landing track you as you continue to climb upward, panting slightly when you finally reach the entrance to the rooftop.

You take slow, sure steps toward the golden railing. For a moment, you just stand there, seemingly watching the city below.

I have to see you. I have to try. In a split decision, Aemond slinkers out of his room, the party below still unaware of his presence.

Then he heads up the flight of stairs as you had done, feeling more apprehensive with each step. What do I even say to you? Do you still want to see me? He finally reaches the final landing, and heart in his throat, he pries the door open as silently as possible.

You no longer stand at the railing. Instead, he spies you sitting on the plush seat the two of you shared on that one night. Facing away from the entrance, looking up at the stars.

Aemond knows that isn’t as it was before. He cannot simply approach you and watch as your eyes immediately welcome the sight of him. It’s not the same, and it is all his fault. He wonders if your heart might still race because of him, or will it have become cold, after all this time?

He draws closer, with each footstep uncertain. But your pull is stronger, taking precedence over all of his worries.

“I miss you,�� is all he can bring himself to say, throwing caution to the wind. You freeze at the sound of his voice.

Then a shiver runs up his spine as it dawns on him - in his haste to see you, he left his eyepatch in his room below.

-----------------------------

I must be dreaming. The hairs along your arms stand in your shock, and you keep both hands flat on the seat to keep you steady.

Is it… You start to turn back, but cease all movement when Aemond pleads, “Don’t. Please don’t turn around.”

“Aemond?” your voice is shaky, and you feel a tear threaten to escape. “They said… we all thought…”

“They do not know that I am back yet,” he answers. “Just you.”

“Oh.” Your head is still turned to the side, and you have to fight the urge to simply rise from your seat and face him. You exhale, trying to calm down. When that doesn’t work, you lean back against the seat, and force yourself to count the windows on the building down the road.

6… 7… 8…

But the sudden feeling of his hands on your shoulders makes you lose all train of thought.

“Did you miss me?” Aemond asks, standing right behind your seat now, his sweater grazing the back of your head.

Your mind is flooded with thoughts of all that happened between the two of you - the beginning, the brief affair, the end. Is it the end?

Answer him. “Did I miss you?” you bite your lip, and your brows scrunch in frustration. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

Your expletive makes Aemond take a step back. “I-I’m sorry…”

“I’ve been so worried about you, Aemond!” Your hands bunch up into fists beside you. You did not realize you had all this pent up anger, with the past few months being spent pining. Longing. Yearning. Like some silly little fool. When he didn’t even make any effort to reach out to you, and the most you got from him was that episode outside the bookstore.

“Oh yeah, and what the hell were you doing outside my place of work?” you stand then, and lean against the railing in front of you, careful not to turn and catch a glimpse of him. “You wanted to speak to me? Well, why didn’t you just do that?” You can feel your erratic heartbeat pounding in your chest, and for a moment you become afraid that it might just stop altogether.

“I did want to speak to you. To see you.” Aemond sighs heavily. “I always want to see you, my darling. You’re all I’ve ever thought about since - ”

“Yeah, right. I bet you did.” You threw the offhand accusation over your shoulder.

“I did,” Aemond swears. “I miss you every day, I -”

His voice is softer than before, and kind of nervous. Your resolve is at risk of breaking, because… Why does Aemond sound… broken?

He finishes, “I just needed some time.”

There are so many more that you want to ask him - What really happened in that accident? Where have you been all this time? What is going on with you and Alys? Where do we truly stand?

But instead you mutter the one thing you are most certain of, “I miss you too.”

Aemond breathes a sigh of relief. He moves to stand behind you, and steps closer.

Closer. You don’t dare move a muscle, because you just might turn around and forget about his request. He moves closer, until his chest is pressed against you from behind. Closer, until his hands squeeze both of yours on the railing.

You feel Aemond rest his face on your shoulder, inhaling deeply. At this point, he is practically enveloping you. Each breath he takes warms your neck. His thumbs run over your knuckles, and he says, “Are you still angry at me?”

“Should I be?” You lean your head back to rest on his right shoulder. From the corner of your eye, he looks as he always has. Almost ethereal, with his silver-blonde Targaryen hair and sharp, defined features.

Aemond moves his head slightly toward the left, careful not to reveal the ruined side to you, when he feels your wandering gaze.

“Please don’t be angry with me,” he pleads. You hum in affirmation, and in a lower voice, he purrs, “Close your eyes, darling.”

You try to ask why, but then you feel his lips lightly press against the nook between your neck and your shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut on their own goddamn volition.

His mouth parts even more, before coming down once again and nipping at your skin. His arms wrap themselves around your waist, and his hold tightens until your entire body is flush against him.

Still, you haven’t seen all of him.

Your hand reaches up to touch him, and your fingertips graze the side of his face. When your thumb runs over a bit of what must be raised flesh, like some partially healed lesion, Aemond jumps away. At once, you feel the cool evening air hit you, the warmth of his embrace having gone.

“What is - ” you start to ask.

“It’s nothing.”

“Aemond…” you hesitate. What could possibly be so terrible, he won’t even allow me to look at him? “If anything happened to the way you look… it wouldn’t matter to me. You would still be the same boy that I lo - ” The words hitch in your throat, their sentiment heavier than anything you’ve ever said.

Everything is at a standstill. Aemond does not say a single word, but you know that he understood what you were trying to say. He must.

And how can I even gauge his reaction when I can’t even look at him?

“Aemond?”

Much to your surprise, his voice is already farther away when he responds with a hurried, “I’ll see you at the ball.”

You swiftly turn around in your disbelief. Did he just fucking leave?

The door to the penthouse shuts behind him, and you are left dumbfounded at his actions. The old Aemond would have never done that to you, but what do you know?

Perhaps my Aemond is truly gone.

The ball is coming up next!!! Reader may finally learn to let go of Aemond, or at least give him what he wants - a whole lot of space and time.

Also, reminder - Aemond's injury is still pretty fresh, considering the damage. So no, he hasn't stuck a sapphire in there yet. Imagine how little Aemond looked in episode 7, with angry stitches running down his face, but a bit more healed. His eye socket is still sewn shut, and it still causes him much pain, so go easy on our boy, y'all.

taglist still has some spots left! I've managed to continue it in the comments 🖤

and I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on this, and what you're hoping to read in the next part!!!

Series taglist: @caught-in-the-afterglow @aemondtargaryensrider @punggo66 @dollfaceyourfear @candypurplebutterfly @moonmaiden1996 @mxrgodsstuff @lolitaisreal @blue-serendipity @melsunshine @thejanecampaign @fxngsfxgxrty @padfooteyes @msmarvel-19 @tempo-rary-fix @lauraneedstochill @julczimozart @sarcasticfangirl @witchyvik @pyjama-shorts @bellaisasleep @zillahvathek @thincrusttheworks @krispold @yougotthatlove @raging-panda @fleetingly-artistic @throughgoeshamilton @polireader @katsav17 @minttea07 @kravitzwhore @meggiemay82 @hedonefox @daenysx @schniiipsel @namoreno @afro-hispwriter @aemondswifeisme @emcharra @malfoytargaryen @iiamthehybrid @fullmetalriotts @kellzlib @justsumtuffstuff @daydreamy-me @yentroucnagol @kezibear @queenofshinigamis @paprikaquinn

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell

809 notes · View notes

baddestbittyontheblock · 1 year ago

Text

rhaenyra targaryen fic recs

you are responsible for the content you consume‼️

✧*:·˚ hi everyone!! here is a list of all the fics that are my favs with tagged writers/authors ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ remember to like and reblog the works you enjoy in order to support each writer!! ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ however, make sure you read the information on each story themselves such as triggers & warnings ✧*:·˚

✧*:·˚ also, if you'd like me to remove your fic from this list, message me! ✧*:·˚

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

ೇ unthinkable fate by @thesithdiaries rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader | petty fights, its enemies to lovers and y'all know my inspo is kanthony from bridgerton, angst, arranged marriage, incest right?,

-“you will wed lady y/n velaryon, and you will do so without protest.”

ೇ illicit affairs by @laenordeservedbetter rhaenyra targaryen x female!reader platonic!Daemon targaryen x fem!reader, harwin strong x fem!reader (unrequited love) | angst (rhaenyra and harwin aren't together in this and rhaenyra has kids with someone else, but the father of her children is unnamed.), canon divergent, viserys slander?

-love is a battlefield and you are a warrior. years you’ve been traipsing around the battleground, expecting to not be maimed.

ೇ if only you knew by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader | internalized homophobia (it gets resolved quickly), fighting, language

-You demand an answer to why the princess has been meddling in your affairs.

ೇ nsfw drabble by @writingsofwesteros rhaenyra targaryen x reader | smut

-“shh, rhaenyra.” you giggled out with a shush as you looked over your shoulder at the closed door.

ೇ you called by @buggyswritingcorner rhaenyra targaryen x reader | angst

-"you came."

"you called."

ೇ nsfw alphabet by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-rhaenyra likes to be taken care of, that is not to say she won't treat her partner properly and wash their hair for them in the copper bath.

ೇ my sweet girl by @newcaptainofsquad9 rhaenyra targaryen x fem!velaryon!reader | hurt, romance, comfort, smut(18+ only ,smut, dirty talk, mommy kink, slight queen kink), 2.5k

-you’ve been distant from your wife, rhaenyra ever since she was crowned queen of the seven kingdoms, going back and forth from driftmark to kings landing all while growing quiet at small council meetings. rhaenyra decides to take matters into her own hands, flying you to dragonstone with her to give of you the space you deserve while pleading with you to tell her what the issue is.

ೇ rhaenyra headcannons by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-being corlys’ bastard daughter in a secret relationship with rhaenyra would include...

ೇ milf rhaenyra by @barbiedragon rhaenyra x wetnurse!reader | smut (f*ingering, l*ctation, n*pple play, mommy k*nk, and oral)

-where reader is a wet nurse for rhaenyra’s babes over the years. perhaps one night she is in pain, maybe a clogged duct or the babe is not latching right and making her rather upset. rhaenyra goes to visit her and assists her.

ೇ milf rhaenyra by ^ dom!rhaenyra x sub!reader | lactation kink, mommy kink, fingering, praise kink

-“sweetling, are you going to use your words or just stare at me all day?”

ೇ overprotective soft rhaenyra by ^ rhaenyra x little!gn!reader

-your hand is always in hers, fingers laced together as she keeps you close

ೇ five ways to make cum by @whosdragon rhaenyra targaryen x reader | smut & fluff | wlw, mentions of oral sex, exhibitionism, mama kink, playing with nipples, sitting on face, mentioned homophobia, overprotective!rhaenyra, use of vibrators, sexual fantasies, mentions of voyeurism, wet and hot kissing, lots of physical touching, mentions of menage, praise, ordeal of orgasm.

-kisses are a trigger for her, wet kisses, with sloppy tongue, with her face dripping with saliva and slobber, she remembers the first time she simply got aroused just kissing you,

ೇ a princesses order by @sl-ut rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | descriptions of sex, slight hints homophobia, arranged marriage, 4.4K

-rhaenyra tries to come to terms with the fact that y/n is betrothed and will soon be leaving king’s landing, but it is much more difficult than she had anticipated.

ೇ tension by @sleepparalysisdemon112 rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | made up house, some unrealistic things for this time period (keyword FICTION) just fluff

-ever since you two met, you’ve always been more than friends

ೇ you get hurt reactions by @milliesdiary hotd x fem!reader | "who did this to you?" trope, blood, kind of gory (?), fluff

-you get injured one day and your self-proclaimed "rival" has a problem with it.

ೇ horizon by @delicrieux rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

-grief is just love persevering

ೇ daydream by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

-rhaenyra always considered you her closest friend

ೇ show me love by @aerysa-targaryen rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | enemies to lovers

-at the start, in your younger years, you and rhaenyra were best friend, you almost consider her as the sister you never had. but everything change when your sister, allicient, marry viserys, of course, you were happy for your sister! she'll be queen, but because of that, rhaenyra start to avoid you, she does not understand how you can agree with this.

ೇ black moons in those eyes of hers by @lotties-ashwagandha rhaenyra targaryen x redpriestess!reader | 1k+

-you listened as the church bell chimed above the red keep. it taunted you, mocking your greatest fears and greatest prides.

ೇ gods and masters by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-rhaenyra being jealous of alicent cause she thinks she’s into reader

ೇ goddess of the skies by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader

-the deep sapphire abyss of the sky hung above you. you watched as soft clouds made their way across its endless expanse, their pace slow and steady, peace engulfing them completely.

ೇ pleasure by @artemiscrocksgf rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | mature, explicit 18+ (minors DNI) nsfw (smut, some explicit language, fingering (receiving and giving), oral female), 2.5k

-“there are other means of pleasure”

ೇ hers only hers by @rhaenerystargaryen rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | mentions of being harassed

-rhaenyra comes to your rescue after an awful encounter with a knight, but can't help but feel a certain sense of possessiveness over you.

ೇ little dove by ^ rhaenyra targaryen x mute!fem!reader

-rhaenyra wants your attention, so the two of you play a game

ೇ rhaenyra fic by @marvelcriminalhoe rhaenyra targaryen x handmaiden!reader | power imbalance (which could lean towards dub con but reader is entirely willing.) talks of political marriages. oral (Fem receiving.) kissing, groping, declarations of love, 3.2k

-“touch me there. right there.”

ೇ the archer by @epiphany-of-a-madwoman rhaenyra targaryen x reader | angst and comfort

-all of rhaenyra's enemies started as friends and she's terrified you'll be next.

ೇ rainy mornings by @gtgbabie0 rhaenyra targaryen x reader

-you and rhaenyra enjoy a peaceful morning together

ೇ yes, my leige by @scarletwidowsbaby rhaenyra targaryen x fem!reader | fluff, bit of smutverbal fighting, blood, Rhaenyra tries to kill you in annoyance, light smut, groping, breast play. 18+ only, minors dni.

-after seeing the new caretaker for syrax, rhaenyra decides she wants her.

ೇ three-headed dragon by @arabellasleopardcoat rhaenyra targaryen x reader | Implied smut. dance of the dragons. canon character death (Not Rhaenyra)

-three times rhaenyra marked you, and one time you did too. or snippets of the love story I so wanted to tell but didn’t feel confident enough to write.

#hotd #hotd imagines #hotd smut #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #rhaenyra #rhaenyra x reader #fic recs

409 notes · View notes

dreamlandcreations · 1 year ago

Text

• chapter 1 • ñuha dāria • my queen •

Daemon Targaryen x Stark!Reader

Summary: Daemon is about to meet his match...

Warnings (and some ramblings): physical description vaguely (?) described and implied by relation, not gonna spoil the plot but there's gonna be targcest (come on, it's Daemon), other canon stuff (violence, death/murder, sex, misogyny, calling children bastards), Daemon is about 21 (according to canon, you'll see what I mean), reader is younger by at least two years; twisting up canon: Alyssa died within the year of Daemon's birth, Queen Alysanne is still alive and the Daemon-Rhea wedding has not happened yet, the fight is basically the Geralt vs Renfri fight (if you want visuals bc I suck at describing it 😅), bit of insta love, enemies to lovers (sort of), it's mostly from Daemon's POV, not proofread at all

Series masterlist • next chapter

• 102 AC • Winterfell • The tourney

Daemon was warned to behave before most of the House of the Dragon parted from King's Landing but he was called the Rouge Prince for a reason.

The tourney was held on the second day of their stay and he had not shown himself in public until then, content to spend his first day in the North reading under the heart tree.

Daemon always loved dramatic entrances, always seeking attention that he seemingly only gets when he is misbehaving. So he was ready to wreak havoc during the event that was supposed to be a friendly match between the great houses.

As a prince, he got to choose his first opponent, and who else would it be than a Hightower. He spared a smirk to that cunt of a Hand before he marched ahead to win with brutal precision, sending his opponent's horse and the knight himself to the ground.

The horrified gasps and then the loud cheering from the crowd only made his smirk wider. Daemon looked over the high seats from where the Targaryens, Velaryons and Starks watched the show. He immediately noted three empty seats, two besides Lord Stark - no doubt one of them was his brother's or cousin's whose helmeted figure Daemon had seen in the line of knights - and one by the King.

Since his grandmother, the Queen, was not present due to her illness, the only one who was sending him scolding glares was his brother, Viserys. The old king just sighed at the scene, while Corlys and Rhaenys sat there, amused, like parents watching a naughty child.

The next challenges were won just as easily as the first, although none of them was even remotely close to that savage end the Hightower boy had to suffer.

While the Prince usually didn't bother to watch the others, this time that Stark was drawing attention with his effortless wins. Prompting the people to make guesses and bets if a wolf could win against a dragon. Well, they were about to find out.

The first round shattered his opponent's shield but, to his astonishment, he stayed upright in the saddle. Daemon was smirking as usual but this time a tiny bit of admiration made his eyes glint in a softer light.

He could tell the little wolf would go down in the next round but he didn't expect to be taken with him too. The dragon prince's blood was singing at meeting a worthy opponent who was just as determined to win, no matter the cost.

The boy must have known he had no chance to stay on the horse, so instead of attacking Daemon as would be proper and expected, he somehow hooked his spear under his arm, yanking him back with the force of his own fall.

Both of you heavily landed on the ground, the impact crushing the air from your lungs and making it unable to move for a long moment. The spectating people were holding their breath, waiting to see if you were, well, alive or not.

The cheering was deafening as you got to your feet and proceeded to fight with swords.

Without wasting another second, you marched forward. Stabbing in his direction, aiming for his head and swinging at his neck with the same momentum once your initial blow missed its target.

The prince leaned away from each attack and his sword met yours at the third strike. He let you lead the fight for a few more clashes but he paused to assess you as he blocked a blow that meant to hit his legs.

Daemon straightened and stepped back, pushing your sword away with his and striking down with a high swing of Dark Sister. Your sword met his again, protesting under the finer steel.

To spare your weapon the worst of the hit, you focused on meeting the side of the blade while avoiding the edge and rolling the swords, trying to dislodge the weapon from his grip.

To unsuccessful stabbing attempts later you made a move at his head again. He ducked down, then didn't hesitate to use the opportunity of the few seconds you left yourself open.

You didn't expect a hit by his other hand and certainly not the following kick that sent you to the ground. Unfortunately, this resulted in losing your helmet.

Daemon paused at the sight.

It was no brother or cousin of their host, not even a boy as he suspected from the lighter build of the armour but a girl with the features of a Stark, the infamous wild beauty of the North, Lord Stark's niece by his late sister.

For the second time during this event, a unanimous scandalized gasp was heard from the crowd right before loud the protests of his brother and your uncle reached the two of you as they forbade you to continue the fight.

At that, your still bewildered expression turned into something Daemon was extremely familiar with. Blinding, all-consuming, untamed rage at being denied.

The Targaryen prince grinned wickedly at you but before you could turn your anger on him, he tore off his helmet, throwing it away and subtly nodding at you, giving you the approval to attack him and continue the fight. The answering spark in your eyes before you charged at him made his heart skip a beat.

It was similar to how you started the first time. He let you advance, then half-heartedly attacked back, ending the session with another backhanded slap before he pushed you backwards until your back met the edge of the fighting arena.

"You are holding back." You practically spat the accusation at him through gritted teeth while holding your sword to block his. Although with the way he took hold of your hand, making sure that your blade did not cut into your throat proved that you might as well let go altogether and would still be safe from any harm.

The world around you seized to exist as the prince pressed a little closer. Answering with an infuriatingly smug grin. "It would be unforgivable to hurt a little lady like you."

"You just hit me," you scoffed.

"You'll live."

"If you won't start fighting properly, you will not." The menacingly low threat made chills run down his spine, eliciting a low chuckle out of him that was definitely a mistake.

Then 'the little lady' pulled a knife on him.

Daemon grunted at the pain of being stabbed in his side. He looked at you with disbelief, the blade went through his armour like it wasn't even there. Valyrian steel.

It was enough distraction. You pushed him away, attacking with the dagger and the sword simultaneously and if you were a little less aggravated, you'd be impressed with the way he blocked your attacks with not just his sword but bare hand fight combined before he started to use his sword more like a shield.

Swords crossed, you paused.

Daemon could have swiped your legs, and you could have stabbed him with the dagger again but you were too busy trying to make it a show that you could overpower him and he was just too pissed to let you go easy.

In a blink of an eye, you were kneeling on the ground with your opponent's blade digging into your shoulder. Although he was careful not to cut too deep, he was not above the pettiness of giving you a scar in return for his.

A half groan, half gasp sound was the only indication of your pain and Daemon felt a moment of regret before he was consumed by flames from deep within that seemed to be seeded in the pull he felt towards you from the moment he laid his eyes on you. He found your rage and your inner fire, which was clearly visible in your determination and anger at the present, mesmerisingly beautiful.

He became distracted again. It was enough for you to be able to move and swipe at his leg, cutting him with the dagger before you stood and faced him with a challenging stance.

A few seconds of silent discussion followed, with him letting you know he will give you what you wished for if you continue, warning you that he will not hold back anymore.

You grinned, attacking him, again using both weapons, with some moves applying them like a single extended weapon.

Then he put you in a difficult position. Stopping the dagger by grabbing it, he was forcing you to stay still not by strength but by thrusting you that you would not want to permanently damage him.

If you pulled away now, he would lose at least a few fingers if not his hand altogether. Both of you gritted your teeth, mostly in pain but it showed more like anger, which made it seem like you were practically snarling at the other.

With barely clutching the handles, you pry his hand off enough to only graze him. And it leaves you vulnerable.

You almost lost your weapons when he immediately attempted to disarm you. Then he truly advanced, forcing you to defend yourself and back away. He was relentlessly stabbing and swinging with Dark Sister in your direction.

Then it was over, he took your sword. Holding you at the end of his blade, telling you to yield.

It was only then that you heard the crowd again. Cheering at the incredibly fast and hard-to-follow battle they just witnessed.

Despite the loud audience, Daemon still heard as you sighed with annoyance, keeping eye contact with him as you threw your dagger to the ground, refusing to do more or say the words.

He smiled, this time with pure amusement only. He stepped away, letting you breathe freely and to his further entertainment dropped to the ground to sit and rest or pout like a child. It was hard to guess and that made him enjoy the scene even more.

You were so busy with pealing away the suffocating armour where you could reach and the impending scolding that you knew was coming the moment you tied up your cousin and took his place, that you didn't pay attention when the prince received the flower crown or what he was planning to do with it.

Feeling the crown of winter roses placed on your head, you look up, wide eyes meeting with the Rogue Prince's mischievous gaze as he offers his hand and helps you stand. Without letting go, he bends a little, kissing the back of your hand as he murmurs, "My queen."

Series masterlist • next chapter

#daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #prince daemon #prince daemon x reader #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x reader #daemon x you #stark!reader

551 notes · View notes

writtingforfun · 1 year ago

Note

Daemon Targaryen x reader

She’s Leana’s sister and married to daemon. On Leana’s funeral daemon and Rhaenys manage to convince Corlys to declare daemon son next lord of the tides. Later Rhaenyra try to talk to daemon about the issue saying her son should be lord of the tides. Daemon and reader just say to her that bastards won’t have the driftwood seat.

Hey, I hope you enjoy this and that it fits your request.

Daemon Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

He should be your heir

The three Velaryon siblings had always been close. They were both fire and sea; they burned as hot as dragon fire and were restless as the sea during a storm. They grew between both elements, they were taught the Valyrian ways, they claimed dragons and they felt at ease at the shores.

The first to wed had been the middle child, a girl of beautiful dark skin and silver curls. She had a tinge of purple circling her irises. After the sudden demise of Lady Rhea, she quickly connected with Prince Daemon, the most fascinating man she had ever met. The girl had been swooned by him from a very young age. Corlys had loudly celebrated this union, happy to unite the Velaryons to the Targaryens once again.

The second to wed had been Laenor. While both parents were happy with the chance to have their son be the future Queen's consort, worry had filled their family. They all knew of Laenor's taste, and his sisters supported him with all their hearts. Regardless of agreements between the heir and him, he'd still have to bed her and have new heirs. It's a pity it didn't work.

Laena was the last one to marry.

The two Velaryon girls were happy and in love with their husbands, as for Laenor... He was happy with his side piece.

Prince Daemon and his wife were expecting their first child just two moons after they were wed. A boy was born and they named him Aelor. Aelor was his father's twin in everything but the color of his skin, a true-born Targaryen and Velaryon.

In their 10 years together, they had been blessed with four children.

Aelor with 10 namedays, Maela and Gaellor, twins of 8 namedays and Taemon with just 4 namedays. And a soon-to-be brother or sister was in their mothers heavy belly, halfway of her term.

It had been excrutiating for her to hear the news of her dear sister's death on the birthing bed, she had collapsed on the floor with tears and loud screams of the pain of losing her.

They had lived at Driftmark for their entire marriage, only leaving to take their children on adventures across the skies. They had the perfect life; it was filled with laughter and joy as well as the warmth of their family. With Laenor living at the Red Keep and Laena at Pentos, it had been up to her to bring joy to her parents. Corlys and Rhaenys dotted on all of their grandchildren, but mostly on the ones brought by their youngest girl. They had brought sunlight to their lives after beeing separated from their other two children.

She made it her mission to greet everyone to ease the weight on her parent's shoulder, forgetting that she herself had a noticable weight to carry in safety. Daemon, always the caring and loving husband he was, never left her side or their children's side.

Not even when Rhaenyra had arrived as if she owned the place. "It will belong to my husband and my son after him", she had replied smugly when reprehended about her manners.

She was nervous and saddened, Laena had been a great friend to her. But to rub in her parent's face her light skinned children... it was too much.

Later that night she and Daemon had talked about how it should be their son, their Aelor, to sit on the throne of Driftmark, for he was the closest male heir after Laenor.

Rhaenys and Corlys laid in bed with saddness between them. They'd never see their Laena. At least they had the joy of their grandchildren. Aelor and Maella had made it their mission to cheer them up, to lift their spirits even if just a tad.

"Come in," Rhaenys said as someone knocked on their chamber's door.

"Mother, father. I hope we are not disturbing terribly"

"No, of course," Corlys hurried her and Daemon inside. She was always his favorite, his precious girl, the girl that always begged him to tell stories from when he was sailling across the continents.

"We need to talk"

"About?"

Daemon took the lead and explained their concerns "you know I'm right. It's Aelor's birthright. Everything in Rhaenyra's life is because she was the firstborn of my brother. With Laena gone and no children behind, it should be my wife and then our son who becomes Lord of the Tides."

Corlys exhaled frustrated, "History remembers names, not blood, Daemon"

"Everything is about blood, father. Everything. Fire runs through my veins. As does the sea. Where does Lucerys have that? Why should he sail as if he owned the place?"

"Because-"

Rhaenys cuts him before he can defend his thoughts "They are right, husband. Our trueborn grandchildren are left with nothing when her bastards inherit the throne as well as this seat. I love those boys, and Jace is in fact Rhaenyra's heir. But not Laenor's."

"To change it would be a blow to the Targaryens."

"Except he is a Targaryen." Daemon defends.

"Exactly. He does not bear the Velaryon name. Lucerys does."

"Name him your heir," Daemon says as he takes his wife's hand. "Name him and he will take my wife's name. Your name"

Rhaenys had been adamant on making sure her husband would choose correctly, and finally he did. Finally he saw it. Aelor Targaryen would come as Lord of the Tides after Corlys. Aelor Velaryon, of house Targaryen and Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, rider of Aemax.

The first Lord of the Tides to fly on top of a dragon and to sail on ship. To say that his parents were proud of him was to say the least.

But of course that Rhaenyra was not happy. While Laenor seemed content to be freed from having to step into his father's footsteps, she was mad.

"He is Laenor's son, he should be Lord of the Tides, not Aelor. Uncle," she pleaded "its not fair"

"Lucerys is anything but Laenor's son. They are bastards, and bastards don't take the Driftwood seat"

#daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x you #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #fanfic writing #fanfiction #daemon targaryen requests #daemon targaryen imagine

856 notes · View notes

aphroditesmoon · 1 year ago

Text

sea, swallow me (part IV)

jacaerys velaryon x fem!velaryon!reader

summary: when jacaerys finally meets the hidden bastard of corlys velaryon, he loses interests in his betrothed Baela and intends to make her aunt his, but are you really what your family has made you up to be?

warnings: MAKING OUT, this fic is inspired by the movie 'song of the sea', CANON DIVERGENCE, slowburn, aged up jace (18 yrs old), reader has selective mutism (she CAN talk), reader is 5 years older than jace, selkie! reader, reader's race is NOT specified(adopted!reader), cursing, nsfw content in future chapters,typical ASOIAF sexism, typical asoiaf targcest.

a/n: yall want baela and reader to have a homoerotic friendship or homoerotic friendship to rival to friendship, say rn.

wordcount: 5.3k

taglist: @marytargaryen , @cdragons , @libdarkheart , @bellstwd , @dianxiaxiexie

@cumslutforaemond , @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @literatureluster, @itszzmoon

♧♣︎♧

Rhaenyra Targaryen was in no state of panic or upset when his son had entered her chambers, answering her call. They both had known what she called him for, therefore both sides were more prepared and rational. The princess was standing by her window, watching Lucerys and Rhaena practicing their sword fighting. She remembered how worried she was when the two sisters voiced their want of being included with the same fighting curriculum as their men. But Daemon beamed at the idea and granted permission. My daughters will not be weak, They shall be as good as me in swordsmanship by the gods’ will. Those were his words. And so they were.

“You called, mother?” The prince spoke after a minute of silence watching her gaze out the window.

Rhaenyra snaps out of herself and turns to her eldest son. “Jacaerys, have you eaten?” The mother in her acquires first. He hummed positively before taking a seat on the long chair. “That’s all well. I wanted to ask you of your aunt.” She states. “The two of you have grown close since the feast- do not deny it.” She shushes him when he opened his mouth to interject.

“I am not upset, we’re not in Driftmark nor Kingslanding, so I doubt there’ll be any rumours brought up from it. And that is not my current concern, no. My concern is on how she fares so far. That girl smiles and bows all the time, you can’t really tell if she’s genuinely comfortable most of the time.”

“She’s fine, I think.” The prince answers simply, receiving a raised brow from his mother. "Well, It’s not like she speaks.” He lies.

“But, she does seem quite excited for a tour here. I’m sure she’’ll find our library to her liking, Rhaena mentioned she likes to read.” The blonde woman smiled in relief of that. “Oh how nice, Perhaps you and your brother could take her to night market as well, there’s more sailing boats this season.” She suggests, making him frown. “I thought you said it’s dangerous. What if anyone recognizes us?” Rhaenyra waves her arm in a careless motion as she moves to sit by him. “You’ll be covered up. Besides, it’s a good thing neither of you have my white hair, the streets get so busy at nught, they won’t give you a double glance.” Jace nods understandingly at her words, still confused at her enthusiasm. His mother was never cruel, he knew that. But he also wonders why She’d worry herself over a small matter such as you.

“Is that all?” Rhaenyra gives a resigned sigh before nodding her head, permitting Jace to leave.

The weather had been bleak so far, thunders and thick clouds hiding the sun. If by tonight, the hints of rain doesn’t disappear altogether, the night market trip would have to wait for tomorrow. He knocked on your door and found no reply, which was of course, expected. But after several moments of waiting, he opens the them to find an empty room. The bed was already made and there was no one besides himself. It looks like you have taken it to yourself in making yourself comfortable here. Jacaerys scans the empty halls and corridors for you but receives no luck.

Bumping into Baela, he halts her to ask; “Is there a possibility that you’ve seen our dear guest around, I can’t find her.” He confesses. Baela, with a book of the Valyrian language under her arm, shoots him an amused smile. “She’s playing a boardgame.” He frowns. “Chess?” Baela gives a single nod. “Yes, with my father. So far she’s lost all 3 rounds. You’re welcome to go watch her fail the fourth.” He does just that, entering the library.

He was met with a tense sight of you and Daemon sitting opposite of each other, Rhaena sits close to you. If she’s trying to help you win, her father cares not for it.

The curtains in the library were all pulled open today, something it’s rarely been done. And the stack of books littered on top of shelves and tables everywhere, made it seem more homely than messy somehow. All three of you are staring down at the board, anticipating your next move, no one notices his entrance. Jacaerys can’t really blame anyone, even he was getting nervous. You lift a pawn, it stands in the air for a second before you gently place it two squares forward near Daemon’s queen.

The prince consort smiles, and everyone groans. “Checkmate.”

“Your best pawns aren’t the usual ones, the knights and the-“ His words were cut off by the loud sound of the pieces smashing onto each other and falling into the ground as you flip the board off, glaring at him. “Alright then, enough board games for today.” Rhaena concludes as her father shrugs nonchalantly. “I told you I’m good.”

Jace’s shoes creaks slightly as he walks closer, drawing the attentions of all 3 people there. “Jacaerys, have you seen your mother? She called for you earlier.” Daemon asks while getting up and moving to his opposite. Jace nods and gives a barely comprehensible answer as the older man leaves the room. He spares him a glance until he’s gone before turning back to you. “No one wins with him, he has the age advantage, been practicing for ages.” The prince attempts to comfort you, ignoring your glowering glare. Rhaena gives up on the comforting as she buries her face on the table, laughing quietly. "Lunch time now, you two hungry?"

The elders had not joined you all for lunch. You’re sat in between Baela and Rhanea with Jacaerys and Lucerys in front of you. You were glad it was Luc that’s facing you. You have feared since last night that if either you or Jace meet eachother’s eyes again, something terrible might occur.

You were born of anxious possibilities. When it’s become your life to go through and witness tragedies repeating themselves, even the smallest of things could trigger the war in your mind. So you keep your eyes down and pretend you can’t see him sneaking glances at you every two seconds, and you pretend that you can’t see Baela noticing him sneaking in glances every two seconds. If you don’t look, and if you don’t react the way they’re both expecting you to, then it’s not your problem. The steak is excellently cooked, the anxious thoughts you bear can’t help getting distracted by this nice meal, and it's special sauce you’ve never had before. But of course, considering that Rhaena who’s next to you, is currently ravaging a salmon fillet, any meal is better than the ones from sea.

“I’ve heard you’ve never seen a dragon up close before?” Jacaerys’ voice fills the silent, snapping you in reality. You’re forced to look at him and shook your head. “Really? What about Vhagar? Mother must’ve taken you on a ride once a while.” Baela asks in disbelief. You gave her a short smile and shook your head again uncomfortably before going back to your steak. “Then I guess we know where the first stop of our tour will be.” He joked and you brave yourself to raise a brow at him.

“You’re giving her a tour? Have you not anything better to do with your time?” Baela scoffs at him, her temper seems fair but eyes bore a challenge. “Would you like to show her around instead?” He answers the question with another. The girl’s eyes relaxes as she scoops her spoon of soup to blow it.

“No, I’m afraid I’ll be occupied for the day.” She drinks up her soup. The steak is really good dipped in blackpepper sauce, you’ve find. You hummed delightfully, dipping another cut piece of it in the sauce. “Here.” Luc passes the sauce closer. You grinned gratefully at him before continuing your meal. Oblivion of the small smile painted on Jacaerys’ face, who’s now no longer eating anymore.

♧♣︎♧

You’ve never told anyone before, but you have met Vhagar before.

A cranky one, the old lady. It was long past midnight, Laena and her husband Daemon along with their children had returned to Driftmark for two moons. You had waited until you were sure the whole place was asleep before sneaking inside the dragonpit. There’s only one dragon available, seeing as Laenor and Rhaenyra were still in Kingslanding.

You’re not sure how the pit had managed to cover her, but with her singular appearance, a space was made big enough for the beast.

You still remember the flick open of vhagar’s large eyes, staring straight into your soul. You had flinched at the singular acknowledgement, standing as far from it as possible without drifting too further that you couldn’t see her. She had not blow fire straight onto your face as expected, in fact, she barely budged. You took it as a sign to get nearer, until you’re inches away from the beast, who had also moved it’s face closer before laying her head down again, eyes remaining open. You stretched an arm towards her, risking spoke at her hard head, receiving a low whine, as if she’s scolding you. You had never pulled your arm back as fast as that moment.

“You can’t tell anyone about this.” You remember telling her. In which she had blinked her eyes slowly at you in response before closing it for good and falling asleep. An understanding was made that night, between two rare animals, often caged against their will.

But that was almost a decade ago.

You’ve heard of Vermax, mostly from Jacaerys himself, telling you stories of his little beasts’ quirks and habits.

“You should stand behind me, He gets protective of me, especially around strangers.”

You knew what he meant, but a laugh almost escapes you, still. You’ve known him for less than a week, but your heart was very sure, that he is no stranger inhabiting there. You only smiled in response, one too bold to reassure him. “I’m serious, my mother and rhaena will kill me if he blows you hair off or something.” You sigh loudly, to show your annoyance before moving to stand beside him.

The two of you walked in a straight line, the prince confident in his steps while you try to ignore the judgmental looks of the other dragons you passed by. You wonder if the dragons ever talk shit about their owners together when everyone is asleep. Too bad you don’t speak their language. Roaring and grunting.

His dragon, conveniently, was in the furthest pit. And as much as you wouldn’t admit I, you were excited to meet Vermax. You’ve only had one sole interaction with a dragon, who’s reaction had been very disappointing. With the speed Jacaerys is walking as he leads, you reach his pit finally. The light from the hanging orbs all over the place had shed onto his face. You nudged Jacaerys aside and let out an audible gasp. Breaking the ‘no talking’ vow you’ve made yourself do earlier that day, you swore under your breath. “He is…small.” The prince snaps his head fiercely to you. “He is growing.” You pursed your lips and nod your head sympathetically.

“Course’ he is.” The dragon groaned loud enough for the two of you to hear, as if defending himself. “No offence.” You mutter to him quickly.

“He is adorable.” You admit, earning more frowns from the rider. “Fierce?” He scoffs at your attempt. “You’re very judgy for someone who’s never seen a dragon up close.” You couldn’t tell him of course, that in comparison to Vhagar, Vermax is unfortunately, very adorable.

“I am impressed.” You tell him as you bent yourself forward to meet the dragon’s sad eyes. “I think you are very mighty, Vermax.” The beast huffs out lazily. “You know I’m surprised he’s barely having a reaction to you, the first time Baela met him, he flinched and ran away, poor boy.” You tilt your head towards Jacaerys, grinning wildly. “He recognizes me as a friend.” He returns the smile. “Maybe.” Perhaps Vermax knew, that we wild creatures must stick together. “He trusts you so easily, one might mistake you as one who shares Valyrian blood.”

You say nothing, smiling softy at the dragon who’s now leaning his head closer to your hand. “Oh, you brat.” Jacaerys chides him, annoyed. You laugh at their antics, It was definitely true though, Vermax seems very young still, you’d bet he’d be as big Caraxes or Meleys in a couple years time.

After a few more pettings and complimenting the dragon, Jacaerys decided it’s time for the touring to continue, parting you away from his baby. “We don’t have all day. If we finish up the castle touring quick, we’d have much more time to rest before tonight.” He explains as the both of you move to exit the dragon pit. “What’s tonight?” He sends a smirk your way, wiggling his brows. “Something more exciting.” You huffed and rolled you eyes, striding beside to him. “All right, keep your secrets.”

He makes a quick tour of the garden, which was much more prettier than you’d expect. Seeing as Rhaenys wasn’t much of garden person, the one in Driftmark was much more underwhelming. He asked you what your favorite flowers, and you had to take a moment to think.

“I don’t know, they’re all pretty.” You said. “So you like them all?” You shrugged, “What’s yours?” You ask him instead, receiving a quick answer. “Hydrangeas. They’re not everyone’s favourite, but they look magical together.” You nod yourself, placing your hand under your chin in a thinking motion. “Then my favorites are also Hydrangeas.” His brows meet as he lets out a small laugh. “Is it now?”

“Hmm.” You ignore his lingering gaze as you move to the bush of Hydrangeas. “I’m looking at them right now, see. I think they’re pretty, they shall be my favorite if I must choose.” You declared. “Alright, I’ll keep a note of that.”

The two of you moved to the throne room after. A rather contradicting view to the garden. The throne was smaller than you expected, but it looked terrifying enough, being sat in the middle of the dark, silvery room. “Have you ever sat on it?” You ask curiously. His eyes widen and he shook his head immediately. “Gods no, that’s only for my mother.” You raise a brow suspiciously. “Not even for fun, not even as a child.”

“Nope.” He insisted, “Although, Lucerys had, once. He’d thought it’d be funny, pretending to be mother. I’ve never seen anyone run so fast when Daemon and her enter the room out of nowhere.” He chuckled at the memory, making you laugh with him as you move out. “See, he knows how to have fun at least.” The prince snorted at that. “And I didn’t get an arse whooping, guess who really won?”

Jace mentally crosses out every place he’s shown you. Honest to the gods, he knew he’s probably the shittiest tour guide ever. But he tries his best, and he knows that it doesn’t really matter. Hopefully tonight, there’ll be less talking and more discovering. Since he himself have not sneaked out to the night market in ages. And with his mother’s permission, there needn’t be any sneaking around. “So, where to next?” You ask, when he keeps quiet through the walking. “My chambers.” You almost choked. “And pray tell, why, are we going to your very forgettable room out of anywhere else?” He laughs in surprise at your forwardness. “So, you’ll know where to go tonight.” Your frown deepens. “Why am I going there again, tonight?”

“Because we’re off to the night market tonight. And although my mother knows we’re going, leaving by the front door would make such a fuss. Next thing you know, they all would want to tag along. So we leave by the hidden exit in my chambers."

“And you don’t want them to tag along?” You ask almost teasingly, testing the waters. “No.” He says. “I do not.”

♧♣︎♧

It was night enough after dinner. The skies had darkened themselves so well that you could barely even see any stars from your window. The rest of your company had resolved to their own business. You’ve barely seen Baela for the whole day, the young lady had been so busy studying and reading like the scholar she is. Meanwhile Rhaena had spent a good half of her day with Lucerys, swordfighting, and then to their high Valyrian studies.

You had thought that you may find it feeling odd and awkward to be spending the whole day with Jacaerys, but your nerves had lied to you once again.

You were much more comfortable around him than you expected. For one thing, You hadn’t have to mind your speaking. You still stayed silent whenever you found it necesarry to speak, but the need to tiptoe around every person you meet was not needed when you are around him. Sometimes he’ll speak to you like he’s known you for ages, and it takes you by surprise every time.

You know his history, the rumours that has surrounded him since birth. Those same rumors you have faced since you were found by Corlys.

But you wonder how does one like him could still find it in himself to still be kind and trusting, despite being treated the opposite by his own family. It was no secret that his uncles and the queen have a strong distaste for Rhaenyra and her children. Corlys makes jokes of the queen often with his ladywife, the green queen. And now that you’ve known him, you wonder why exactly would such distaste exists at all. A true Targaryen, with the traits of a true king to be.

You brush off your unimportant questions as you tie your shoelaces properly. There was no guarantee what the activities tonight would enquire, but just to be safe, you dressed lightly with a hoodie to cover yourself on top of it all. Peaking out your door, you leave after making sure the doors are shut and no familiar faces are detected.

Jacaerys, who has been waiting for you 15 minutes earlier than the time he’s set, wastes no time opening his doors after two knocks by you.

Closing the door behind you, he fails to resists the grin blooming on his face as he leads you into a small entrance of staircase behind the curtains of his bed. “Ever been on a boat before?” He asks as his fingers make quick to find yours, walking you through the dark pathway.

“The small one?” He grins largens. “Yes, that would be a boat.”

“Then no, I have not.” The two of you finally reaches the end of the way, a small door, heavy of stones is the end, You help him push it to the right, revealing the dim light of the moon, accompanied by loud noises made by the pigeons. Walking out of the castle, you let him close shut the secret entrance while admiring the jet black sky, engulfing the unrivalled sight of the moon. The wind was gentle too, caressing your visible skin, making your goosebumps rise. Your head turns to the boat placed on the sand when you hear Jacaerys’ nearing footsteps.

“We’ll be rowing on that?” he gives you a nod before pushing it onto the water.

“Come on, get in.” You do as he tells you to, pulling your long skirt up, Passing you the giant paddle, He follows suit hopping into the boat once he’s pushed it further into the long river. “It’s barely a few minutes to get there, if we could just walk, that’ll be easier, but water has been rising up since three years ago, so they dug a long hole to make a river, rowing it is.” You nod understandingly at his words as you move your arms with the paddle as he does, rowing fast. True to his words, after a good 15 minutes, You begin to saw patches of grass and sand, along with bright lights and what had sounded like people.

You fix your hood as advised as the boat reaches it end. Tying the simple craft onto a wooden post, the prince stretches a hand for you to grab on as he helps you up. He pulls you to his chest too strongly, making the both of you sway back and forth. You let out your giggle while your hand grips his for stability.

He smiles with before lightly taking one step away, hand still holding yours. “You excited?” He asks like he doesn’t know. You say nothing and only shoves him slightly before walking over him, tugging him along as you lead yourself through the noisy and bright coloured crowd.

The hood you wear does a good job of hiding how in awe you were of your surrounding. There were many people, but none of them were looking at you or Jacaerys. The beauty was in how you felt like you were everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. You jolt to the side when a group of children burst through path without warning. “Rascals.” You hear a man sigh tiredly before following them. The overlapping voices and laughing mixes with eachother, producing an overwhelming humanly background noise. Spinning your head around the place, your eyes confuse themselves as they turn from the firework stalls and the food section to the toysellers and pantomimes that’s set much further.

“Catch up with me.” You warn the prince as you move without direction to whatever calls you.

Carrot cake, you noted. Passing through a stall of baked goods, and whatever else food you eyes couldn’t have grasped properly as you kept walking. “What are you looking for?” You hear the muffled voice of your company from behind. You weren’t sure what you were looking for. Stopping at a covered tent, you peeked in and jumped backwards immediately when a woman looked back at you. Her head appears through the curtains. “Would you like to know your future?” You blinked at her and was pulled forward before you could speak. “A scam.” Jace says as he leans into your ear. “It would help a lot if you stop running, yeah? No one’s chasing you angel.” His worlds were almost reassuring until the last word. “Right.” You stutter, following his lead now instead of the reversed as before.

“Fishcakes?” He asks as you pass a seafood stall. He sees the frown of distaste and laughed in return. “Not a seafood girl, got it.”

“Beefcake maybe.” You suggest. He humas and lets his eyes roams the stalls while he walks. “I think those are further up.” The both of you are walking slower now, letting you take a good look at the shops and lights. “Have you ever seen anything this beautiful?” You ask, nodding at the lights connecting from stalls to stalls. You would’ve thought they were stars if it weren’t for the mix of pink, yellow and purple. “Yes, I have.” You appreciate that he’s not laughing at you. When you turn to look at him, he’s already set his gaze on you. “Is it always like this every night?” You ask. He shrugs at you with a small smile. “I don’t know, I’ve only been here twice when I was a child, It was much paler then. Smellier too.” You laughed.

His attention was turned away when he finally spots a beefcake stall. Small pieced of them stuck through a long stick and are placed over the tables. “Two please.” He pays the seller and hands you the stick like a prize. “Oh, this is great.” You praise hungrily, taking a bite off of it. “It is, isn’t it?” You hummed in reply, enjoying your beefcake. He continues his stride soon after, fingers still intertwining with yours.

“A puppet show is that?” The prince asks himself as he reaches the pantomime performance. “Puppet?” You repeat in confusion.

He brings you to his side as the two of you stand a bit far from the children sitting crossed legged to enjoy the small theatre. “What’s it about?” You whisper to him. He shrugs and points a finger to the cardboard drawn puppet of a girl wearing a straw hat. A voice of a man shushes the chattering children as the puppet begins to move. "This is a story of Aenathema.” The invisible voice spoke.

“Aenathema, is a seaborn woman, or most accurately, a siren.” The children turned quiet. “Young in age, and beautiful as the myths say, she spends her days swimming and nights tricking sailors for their trinkets.” How factually incorrect this story already was, you thought. Sirens don’t exist, firstly.

Aenathma the puppet moved through the cardboard cut ocean. “Stories of death luring sirens spread all over the land of men, to warn the sailors and fisherman. But they misunderstood poor Aenathema, for she only craved an end of her curiosity.” You could understand that, if you’re honest. ”But one day, a brave and unhinged prince decided to find the said siren, in wishes to prove his people how false the stories of her cruelty were. So he sailed for moons-“ A male puppet glued to a paper ship moved through the square space, “-until finally, Aenathma, curious she always were, showed herself.” They must fall in love, that’s how the stories always went.

"The prince, with his original intention to kill her, hesitated. The siren and her beauty had captivated him.” Of course it did.

“He invited the naïve Aenathema up his ship, ‘Please, make yourself at home, for all that you could want shall be by your feet, if you’d only asked.’ He had said.” The two puppets neared eachother, standing side by side.

“Grateful by the prince’s kindness. Aenathema fell into his trap. Weeks past, and the lovesick prince had refused to let her go.” The voice was interrupted when a child yelled out; “Why can’t she just jump back in?” The other children agreed, their voices scattering. “I was getting there.” The voice snapped, making you smile.

“Poor Aenathema could not return to sea, for her magical coat had been stolen. The coat she would need to be able to breathe underwater.” This is the part where she turns into a seal, you think to yourself.

The male puppet was switched to another version with much scarier drawn eyes.

“She devised a plan then, come full moon, she shall trick him into bed, and poison him to sleep. And so she waited, and waited, and waited. Until finally, Full moon appeared. With her siren voice, she lured him to bed, and poured his own poison into his wine. Once the prince had fallen asleep, she took the key oh his treasury and unlocked it for her coat. Fash she moved to put it on, and faster more she moved to dive back into the sea.” You felt your heart drop uneasily, what a terrifying story for a child to hear, you thought to yourself.

“The prince was angry when he woke, four of his crewmen were killed on sight in the midst of his rage. For not only did he lose his future bride, he also lost his future child.” The crowd gasped. You gasped along with them, earning an amused smile from your company. “You’ve never heard this story before?” He asks lowly. You shook your head, attention still stuck on the show.

“Aenathema had swam and stayed underwater for moons without knowing she was with child, but once she did, she swore she’d never let harm become of them, and that the child shall never swim to shore as she did, lest they befall the same fate.” What an end. The crowd of kids erupted into chaos again, yelling out their questions and even disagreeing with the narrator’s end.

“A bit too disturbing for the little ones, right?” Jacaerys spoke You felt your body relax as you nod at him. “I want more beefcake.” You requested as the children starts to part ways back to their parents.

♧♣︎♧

After spending the next half hour walking around and the market and eating more beefcakes, the two of you decided it was well past the time to go home.

You twist and turned the new bracelet Jacaerys has brought for you earlier as fixes the boat back where he found it. It was no gold, but the marble like blue beads had caught your attention. His treat, he had insisted.

You made your way back in through the hidden pathway into his chambers. It was dim without the light of candles or day. The both of you were quiet despite the fact that everyone else was asleep. He finds a burner to light up his bedside candle.

“There you go.” He mumbles to himself as the room brightens slightly. His eyes were tired and his hair was disheveled, it was weirdly attractive, you thought. He turns to you, who’s now sat on the edge of his bed, equally as tired and spent. Taking a seat next to you, his fingers were sly, moving to touch the beads around your wrist. “Do you like it?” He whispers. You nod your head subtly. “Tell me, I can’t see you. He asks gently

“I like it.” You whispered back, voice slightly cracking at the end. You were thirsty.

“Did you have fun, tonight?” You smiled. “Shockingly, yes.” You could see his brows raising despite the dimness. “Why suprising?” “Well, I didn’t think you knew how to have fun.” His lips spread from a thin line to a grin, matching your own.

“I know how to do a lot of other things too.” The way he spoke was hesitant, like he knew he’s reaching through a forbidden border. But you leaned in closer, till you noses touch, and you had asked him, with the same angel-like voice you had from the night you first met. “Like what?” He answered you with an embrace of his lips with yours.

The first touch of them were teasing, so you pulled him closer, and you kissed him back, fiercer. As his hands move to cup the back of your head, yours finds the walls of his chest, grasping on his tunic like air restricted from you. You feel his lips wet your dry ones, letting his tongue tease your mouth into opening, and intertwining with your own.

As his hands move to caress your lower back instead, you find yourself pushing him to sit laid back on his bed before climbing onto his lap, devouring eachother with more access. The bolder you feel, the bolder he gets with his hands, and the louder the sirens in your head rang. But how could one move on from another who looked at you the way he does?

One of his palms are now gripping your hips, sitting you on him, while the other grasps your hair tight so your lips won’t leave his. He groans lowly. Your fingers are holding onto his neck so shyly, trying not to squeeze it with the intensity of how he’s kissing you. Like a strike of lightning has struck you, You jolted away from his face in sudden. Heavy breathing fills the air between the two of you. “What-“ You cut off his question before he could complete it, “Someone’s coming.” Too soon the confirmation came, three knocks on his door forces you both to scramble from his bed.

“A second!” He yells as he fixes his tunic and ruffling his hair back, trying to calm himself down enough to remove the redness in his face, while you run to hide behind his secret door, pushing the stone door close quickly without making a noise. “Jacaerys.” It was Baela.

You curse yourself internally, the memory of tasting him repeating themselves in your head like a warning sign. Of course, It’s Baela. It was always Baela.

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon #hotd x reader #jace velaryon x reader #house of the dragon x reader #game of thrones #jace targaryen x reader #hotd #jacaerys targaryen

178 notes · View notes

daemonsdivorcerock · 2 years ago

Text

THE RED QUEEN || d.targaryen

IN WHICH: six years after the driftmark incident, (name) and daemon targaryen receive word that lucerys velaryon’s claim to the driftmark throne is being challenge so they return to king’s landing to vouch for baela’s claim to the throne. to make things worse, viserys is dying and his last words are misinterpreted.

REQUESTED: yes/no

PAIRING: daemon targaryen x fem!targaryen reader

AUTHOR’S NOTES: part three in the shrew of king’s landing series!! reader is described as having silver hair. rhaenyra is kind of a bitch in this, love her tho.

WARNINGS: death, incest, targaryen!incest, angst, shenanigans, dysfunctional family, mentions of cousin marriage, otto hightower, usage of the word bastard, pregnancy, reader is pregnant again.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

THE SIX YEARS BETWEEN THE DRIFTMARK INCIDENT AND THE RETURN TO KING’S LANDING HAD PASSED BY RELATIVELY SLOWLY, that’s how it’d felt. Slow. The years had drolled on by, six of them in total.

The styled “Heir Who Never Was” found herself going through a series of recollection and deja vu as she took in the sight of her chambers. It was like she had never left. Her bed was made. The fireplace was roaring.

Everything was exactly where it had been the day he left. With the exception of rummaged clothes, shoes and books. It pained her to gaze upon her tragically empty bookshelf, which was her pride and joy before she claimed Meraxes from the Dragonpit.

Her household and supporters all adorned the deep shade of rouge, declaring their support to (Name)’s claim to the Iron Throne. She had gained some supporters in the Red Keep, including Otto Hightower, Alicent Hightower, Aegon Targaryen, Helaena Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen and Daeron Targaryen.

Rhaenyra had seldom supporters in the Red Keep. Dressed in a well-fitting crimson dress, (Name) rested her hands on her swollen stomach, round with her ninth child. Six years following the death of Laena Velaryon, a myriad of events had taken place.

Harwin and Lionel Strong had died when Harrenhal caught fire. Corlys Velaryon had an accident at sea and was presumed missing. Rhaenys Velaryon was raising Baela and Rhaena to lead Driftmark. Laenor Velaryon had died. Escaped, some said. (Name) did not blame him.

Daenerys had wed Aegon, bearing him two children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. Aemond had wed Rhaenys and the two had a daughter, Alysanne. Helaena was happily married to the son of minor Lord.

There was talks that Aemma and Daeron would be betrothed. Then again, there was also talks that Aemma would be betrothed to Lucerys Velaryon. The Reds had been summoned to Court to deal with the matter of the Driftmark Succession.

It was elementary. Baela should inherit the Driftwood Throne. She was Corlys’ eldest legitimate grandchild. It made sense. Lucerys Velaryon, despite bearing the Velaryon name, had no right to the throne. Anyone with a brain could see that. Anyone except her father.

She glanced over at Daenerys, Rhaenys and Helaena sitting talking, Jaehaerys, Jaehaera and Alysanne playing on the floor with (Name)’s youngest children, Aegon the Younger and Viserys.

Daemon sat on an armchair by the fire, with Rhaella on his lap. Rumours were flying that Rhaella would be betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon. Over my dead body, is what crossed (Name)’s body.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

The Reds and Blacks were assembled in the throne room, like characters on the chessboard. Each side shot glances at each other. Vaemond Velaryon was arguing how he should be considered as heir to the Driftwood Throne.

“I shall say it if nobody else will,” Vaemond spoke, glaring daggers at Rhaenyra, “Her children are…BASTARDS! And she is a whore,”.

The room was stunned with silence, briefs whispers darting to and fro. In his weakened state, Viserys unsheathed the same Valyrian Steel Dagger that had scarred (Name)’s face all those years ago. She felt an odd chill running down her spine.

“I’ll have your tongue for that!” Viserys had growled, before a slow clapping at filled the room. All eyes darted to the figure of (Name), who slowly clapped with a mischievous smile on her face.

She laughed briefly. “Thank you, Vaemond,” (Name) uttered, walking forwards, “What? Oh, Father, do not look at me like that. Somebody had to say it. If you cannot accept the truth, then I shall have to convey it to you. Rhaenyra’s children are illegitimate. I am sorry. Everybody knows. The whole fucking Seven Kingdoms knows. Laenor Velaryon did not father those children, Harwin Strong did. Your blatant favouritism towards Rhaenyra has gone on for long enough. Seven Hells, I have had enough!”.

“If Mother was alive to hear you saying such slanders-“ Rhaenyra began.

“If Mother was alive, Rhaenyra,” (Name) icily spoke, glaring at her sister, “Then she would agree with me! Those boys are barely Targaryens, half at most. And you have no fucking right to sully her name like that. Where were you when she passed? I shall tell you where I was. I was by her side, holding her hand as the Maester cut her open. I heard her screams. When our father decided that two daughters wasn’t enough, and that a child that barely lived a day was worth that more than the woman he loved! You have played this charade from long enough, the boys know the truth. We all do. It is time to stop lying,”.

The court room was immersed in whispers. “What will you do now, father?” (Name) whispered harshly, glaring at him, “Banish me? Exile me from Westeros? Execute me? Do your worst. As long as my bloodline endures, you will never be rid of the Shrew of King’s Landing,”.

•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•-•

The family supper was tense. Aemond had called Jace, Luke and Joffrey “strong boys”, making (Name) snort with laughter. Vaemond Velaryon had been executed. After the Driftmark issue was settled, in which Baela was named heir, (Name) had decided to leave King’s Landing with Daemon and her family, to live in Volantis, with her great aunt, Saera.

She decided to visit her father that evening, a final goodbye. He had been rushed out of the supper, due to his illness. She and Rhaenyra had played civil for their father. She entered his chambers shortly after the Hour of the Owl.

“Father?” She whispered, looking through the billowing white drapes on her father’s bed. He looked terrible. The room smelled pungent, the scent of rotting flesh invaded her nostrils, almost making her vomit.

Viserys’ breathing was raspy and laboured. He would not make it through the night. She knew this. Rhaenyra and her sons has returned to Dragonstone during the evening, shortly after dinner.

“The Song of Ice and Fire…” Viserys murmured, tiredly, “The Princess that was Promised…I was wrong. I should have named you my heir…(Name)…I am so sorry for how I wronged you, my daughter…Aegon’s prophecy. I am coming now, Aemma…”.

With a final breath, Viserys’ body stilled and breathing stopped. (Name) felt tears spilling for her father. She had witnessed her mother’s death in childbirth and now her father’s passing in the night. It stunned her momentarily. She was in shock.

The King was dead.

#house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf #fanfic #daemon x y/n #daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #a song of ice and fire #matt smith #daemon targaryen x y/n #the shrew of king’s landing

797 notes · View notes

shesjustanothergeek · 2 years ago

Text

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Fifteen

Master List of Series

Summary: Being a bastard born in the slums of Flea Bottom was all you were known for. Not the streak of white you had in your dark hair, the violet ring around your pupils, or how your sharp tongue and skills with the blade resembled your father, Daemon Targaryen. You were just a bastard, nothing more, but to him, to Aegon Targaryen, you were everything. You were his love.

Author's Note: Hey, besties! Guess who passed their State Board Exams…? ME! I DID! Now, all I gotta do is fill out some paperwork, and I'll be licensed. I've started working already, but it's only three days a week right now, so pretty good! Don't hesitate to comment or ask me questions. I love hearing them and seeing others discuss them. Happy reading, everyone, and let the celebrations commence!

Chapter Warnings: Violence

The celebrations of Aegon's birth had finally arrived. All the Great Houses were expected to come—all but one. The Velaryons and part of the Targaryen faction were not extended an invitation. Rhaenys had taken this as a political slight by Queen Alicent. She was collateral damage in the cold war between Rhaenyra and her old friend. Guilty by association.

Lord Corlys was still fighting for control of the Stepstones and had put his loyal Lady Wife on the Driftwood throne to rule in his stead. The alliance of the Triarchy and House Martell of Dorne was of much concern, and without the aid of the King's fleet, the battle was all but lost. Yet, through it all, the Sea Snake remained on the collection of islands, fighting tooth and nail against those who wished control of his rightful territory.

Princess Rhaenys did not know of your efforts inside the Keep, slowly but surely attempting to send help to the losing battles. The day she was crowned the "Queen Who Never Was" came to mind. She felt abandoned by her cousins, Daemon and Viserys, for refusing to take a stance on the insurgents. Baela was her only solace, her heart missing the pieces her children used to occupy. She would never forgive them if her husband died.

You sat at the exponentially smaller desk in your room, the maids you had yet to become familiar with brushing your silky hair as you read two pieces of parchment.

Jace and your father had sent you letters. Daemons were curt, mentioning nothing about how he missed or thought of you while away. It was as if he was speaking to a fellow warrior, not his daughter. Only ensuring you were still on track with your efforts, wanting to know how far the influence of the Hightowers reached and when to expect words regarding the Stepstones. You ignored him for now, folding it in threes and placing it in the side drawer of your desk as you read your brother's.

"Dear Sister,

Jealousy became me when I bid you farewell a few days ago. I knew what I said was wrong as the words lept from my tongue. I am not proud, and regret has haunted me since. I express my sincerest and deepest apologies.

You have always been open and honest with your emotions, and I wish to do the same. I love you, sissy, despite what my words may have alluded to. You have experienced hardships that no child of that age should witness, and you did not grow to resent your family for it. I cannot say the same for me if something similar happened.

I wish the Queen did not invite you to Kings Landing, not because I am jealous, but because I haven't a clue what I mean to do without you. Father wants me to be strong, like you. He wants me to practice swords like you. He wants me to listen to Mother's audiences like you, but I am not you. I am a boy whose lineage is clouded with stolen kisses and an accidental fire.

I wish you were still here so I could feel your embrace. I do not believe I can handle Daemon for much longer. How have you done it for so long?

The days cannot go fast enough as I await your return. I intend to give you a proper apology once you are home. Perhaps we can spend some time in Aegon the Conqueror's Garden as I grovel? I will arrange a picnic for when I do. I don't want to beg on an empty stomach.

Missing you,

Jacaerys Velaryon, your wretched little brother."

His endearing letter did not help the ache for Dragonstone. A smile burned your cheeks as you rubbed the dry paper between your fingers. You could smell the brimstone on the fibers, the sulfuric scent taking you home.

"My Lady," a servant gained your attention, taking your focus off the sweet words. "The men should be returning from their hunts in the Kingswood soon. I would suggest we start readying you for the tourney later today."

You nodded wordlessly, giving them a tight-lipped smile as you put Jace's letter next to Daemon's. You will be sure to write them both later.

You were confident Jace would love to hear how the tourney went. He had always gravitated toward stories of knights in shining armor valiantly jousting for a lady's favor. He had spoken several times about wanting to participate in the events. That was the only thing that pushed him to pursue the sword, other than your mother's and father's orders.

You could picture your little brother atop a white steed, armor resembling a dragon with a lance in his hand, asking for the favor of one special noble girl. The image brought a genuine grin to your face. Jace was always the gentleman his Mother taught him to be.

You wanted to stand out amongst the crowd of green royals you were sure to be seated with. It was to be your first public appearance since your legitimization, and you had to make an impression. You allowed your ladies to bathe you, and upon your exit from the tub, you requested one to show you the variety of gowns you had brought. Black was always the most innovative option, representing the colors of your House, and there were plenty to choose from, thankfully. It was only a matter of which one.

You decide to help your decision by considering the weather and environment. Most of the gowns you had were thick for the constant chill of Dragonstone and would indeed have you draped over a chair with a fan to cool off despite the changing seasons. That had only left you with a few options, which immensely helped. It had revealed a dress you once deemed too scandalous to wear in your family's presence.

It was not typical Westerosi fashion. Rhaenyra had commissioned a tailor in Dorne to create a gown when you officially became of bedding age.

You could tell it was something she had longed to wear as a girl, a freeing and rebellious design, but etiquette and her position would not allow her to wear such exotic clothing. You did agree with her that it was stunning. The deep plunging 'v' of the neckline certainly accentuated your breasts and made them much more pleasing to the eye as your maids tightened the strings in the back.

The fabric was a combination of red with an overlay of black lace. Golden thread held the seams together, and a matching cape to your shoulders, leaving your arms bare. Pieces of Aurelian were sewn on the shoulder pads of it, looking like crumpled yellow leaves that cascaded down your biceps. A circled belt of silver was delicately snitched around your waist, the excess of the metal resting between your legs.

After you were dressed, the servants ushered you to the vanity, holding the draping fabric so it did not catch as they began to fix your ebony hair. They elected not to put it in its usual braided style, instead rolling and twisting the long strands onto themselves until they reached the base of your head, pinning it to your head. It was simple, and you immensely enjoyed the freedom it gave to your range of motion.

Next, they adorned you with matching jewelry and a delicate headpiece that arched over the crown of your head. A necklace of a curled golden dragon wrapped around the hollow of your throat, a long needlelike chain attached to it as a polished metal fang hung at the end. They then slid a hammered bronze cuff on your wrist and rings of the same color, dragonglass, and rubies for its gems. The ladies applied the final touch of makeup to your skin, a fine powder to rid the shine from your nose, a dusting of rouge, and a hint of rose-colored balm to your lips.

You felt like the Targaryen princesses of centuries past, the blood of old Valeryia pumping your heart.

You would give anything for your Mother to see you now, dressed in the traditional colors of her House. Though you couldn't hide your relief in Daemon not being here, you were sure he would've made you change or barred your door to stop you from escaping in such scandalous garb. You stood, finding the dagger Daemon had gifted you and the belt it was connected with. You hooked it around your waist, adjusting it to be just out of view.

Your servants stared at you in awe, more amazed by their work than you as you grabbed the wreath of black charm lilies and black crystal pansies you requested to give your favor to the knights who asked. You didn't believe any of them would but knew it was proper to have one nonetheless. You smiled at your ladies, conveying your gratefulness through your unusual eyes. You turned, facing the three women, your cape resembling a waterfall.

"I believe I haven't inquired of your names yet," you prompted, looking them over. The youngest of three fiddled with the hem of her white apron, avoiding your gaze. "I do apologize for that. You all have been very kind to me."

"I am Jeyne," the oldest spoke first, giving you a curtsy. Grey hair poked from under her servant cap, wrinkles creasing the corners of her eyes.

"I am Fiora," the next one spoke, bowing. She appeared not much older than you, with bright green eyes and a splash of tan freckles on her nose and cheekbones.

You would guess the youngest girl, around Jace's age, continued playing with her clothes, muttering a meek "Dyana" and quickly bending her legs. You frowned at her response, sensing her anxiety, and reached for her tiny fingers, rough and dry with callouses.

"You need not be frightened, Dyana. I am not as wicked as the whispers claim me to be," you jested with a grin. She returned it, but it did not reach her eyes. A pang of sadness struck your chest as your gaze flicked over her as if you could understand the reason for her apprehension at a glance.

"My Ladies," you said, standing and clasping your hands in front of you as you bowed your head. "It is a pleasure to become acquainted finally. I am sure we will become close during my stay here." You smiled at all of them once more, your attention resting briefly on the meek fair skinned girl. "If any of you need something from me in the meantime, no matter how small or trivial, I will be at your service as you are to me."

The three shared bewildered expressions, Fiora's mouth agape as all muttered their thanks.

You supposed their reaction was understandable. They had never been treated like people before, almost making you feel bad for your motives.

Your plan would not hurt them in the long run. If anything, they would most likely be grateful to have a princess as an ally. Most nobles did not realize how much of their life depended upon the people serving them, not considering that they saw and heard everything within their homes. You would be a fool not to take advantage of that during such tumultuous times.

"Well," you clapped your palms together, giddy to finally have that out of the way, "I have grown rather famished and wish for some snacks before I watch men get rammed with sticks." Jeyne grinned, and Fiora bit her pink lips at your crude words. "I know that this is not proper, but I truly am in the dark. If you would not mind, could you lead me to the kitchens? I frequented them much at Dragonstone, as midnight snacking is a vice of mine, and wish to know where they are when the cravings emerge."

Knowing your next moves hinged on their response, you had planned those words carefully. You needed to tell them something that they believed was a secret. Daemon had told you once that revealing something one would deem embarrassing, that displaying vulnerability to a fellow human would have them drop their defenses, but if they were smart enough to realize this, it would ruin everything.

Fiora gave a toothy grin, nodding vigorously before looking at her companions. The other two shared the same smile. Through those actions, you could quickly tell what her personality was. She was a giddy and sweet girl, albeit a bit more susceptible than someone of her age should be. The other women followed along. Her joy was contagious as they approached the kitchens with you on their heels.

A self-satisfied smirk replaced the kind smile you wore for your servants.

Everything was going according to how you imagined it. Your maids took kindly to you, and as you traversed the long hallways and steps of the Keep, each passing nobleman and servant noticed your presence. One Lady gasped as you rounded a corner and met face-to-face, quickly scurrying away like a scared field mouse. A man who stood over a full head taller than you raked his eyes over your form, his attention staying on your breasts long enough for Jeyne to notice. She silently stepped before you could truly capture his face, only noting his long black hair and eyes.

Servants bustled throughout the kitchens, some throwing large pieces of dough on a floured table, others running with plates of food and ingredients in their hands. None of them paid attention as you entered, hidden behind the uniformed girls, having to duck beneath a misplaced stone in the stairwell ceiling.

Jeyne, Dyana, and Fiora led you through an archway into a room filled with even more people who still did not notice you, peeling carrots, potatoes, and other vegetables. You felt your chest deflate in defeat at your seemingly unimportant presence, not anticipating them to continue their tasks and not spare you a glance. It was not every day a member of the royal family graced them with their appearance.

It almost felt like the servants of the Keep did not see you as a Targaryen but as just another one of them. Your mouth soured at the thought, digging your nails into your palms until they left imprints. It would be best if you were happy to see them collectively agree you were not like the rest of your kin, but still, not receiving the recognition you tried so hard for was gutting. You could feel your body deflating, curling in on itself as your previous confidence dwindled.

No matter, you told yourself. This can work to my advantage.

They saw you as not someone to be feared, and perhaps you could extend those same opinions toward your Mother. Rhaenyra needed everyone who resided in the Red Keep to be on her side when she ascended the throne, the nobles who lived at court, and the knights who protected and defended the Targaryen name. Everyone was needed.

Jeyne handed you a peach from off the wooden table a male servant used to cut some vegetables, smiling as your thumb stroked the fuzzy skin. You could still remember when fruits such as that were unavailable to you, though these memories were faint and grew more difficult to recall as time passed. Dyana then found a jug of cider, filling a small goblet up to wash down the sweet taste that danced on your tongue, and Fiora used the corner of her apron to wipe the stray juices that dribbled out of the corner of your mouth. You smiled at them both gratefully, fighting on the inside not to swat their doting hands away, feeling like a child again.

You sucked the last bit of the pulp from the large seed before removing it from your lips and throwing it in the bucket they used for scraps. You continued to sip on the brass goblet Dyana had given you, following them from out of the kitchens and into a courtyard you had never seen before. It was lined with pens filled with livestock. Sheep, pigs, goats, and chickens belting, chirping, and snorting as you passed.

You were still determining exactly where the tourney would be held but had yet to hear of the vast and spacious arena it was. You knew you would be sitting inside the royal box next to the other noble members of your family, and you couldn't hide how less than joyful that made you feel. You did wonder if the King would be there, knowing that what the Maester and Otto said were complete lies about his health. Some of you still held onto hope that there was some truth in their deceitfulness. Indeed, they couldn't be so bold as to say something that could easily be disproven with one's eyes. The next Council meeting would undoubtedly be an eventful one.

Your ladies led you back inside an entrance of the castle you had never seen before, urging you to follow their steps and assuring you were close. Soon, the low rumbling of voices could be heard. Different pitches and accents all melted into one continuous barrage of sound as you ascended the stairs to your seat.

The first leg of the tourney was set to begin in a short while, and most of the royal family had already made their appearance. Even the eldest prince sat in a high back chair, practically falling asleep with a cup of wine in his hand. A slight grin formed on your face at the endearing sight, appearing as if you were looking at a babe rather than a man grown. His perfectly pink lips stuck out in a pout, a sigh escaping as he adjusted in his seat.

You were standing above him diagonally on the top riser and could see every huff, and every scoff he made as his Mother spoke to him, but Aegon could not see you. Queen Alicent said straight ahead, not looking at him as you saw her permanent scowl. It was her firstborn's name day, which should be celebrated with nothing but smiles and laughs. One would think she would be happy for such an occasion.

Aegon said something to his Mother that made her snap her head in his direction, ready to offer him some choice words as she saw you.

You could hear the gasp leaving Alicent clutching the pointed star of the Seven glued to her neck. You swore by the sound she made she had not seen you but the Stranger himself as her face paled. The Queen whispered something as she quickly looked away. Aegon was just as shocked as you regarding his Mother's reaction. He thought she might faint as he swiftly turned to see what it was all about.

Your gazes looked at one another, and your cheeks reddened under his stare. You felt your heart flutter in your chest, offering him a quick curtsey as you walked to an open seat at the lowest riser, crossing your legs as you adjusted the dagger at your hip.

Aegon had died. Well, it certainly felt like it when he laid his eyes on you. For once, his vision was clear and not yet clouded by the drink, and he could see your perfectly crafted body. He immediately went to the plunging neckline of your dress; how could he not? Your breasts were right there where he could see, noticing how much bigger they were than he initially imagined. He then noticed the curled golden dragon around your neck, reminding him of his own, Sunfyre. Had you chosen that for him? Did you purposefully put that on with him in mind? Aegon could feel his cock harden at the thought.

He watched you descend the giant stone steps, holding your skirts up so you did not trip as he saw your bare ankles. He could hardly contain the twitch of his hips at the sight. Aegon had been with many women in his life, too many to count, and yet seeing just a peak of your hidden skin had him nearly spilling in his breeches.

He thought back to your moment in the Godswood. Underneath the Heart Tree, the fragments of the sunrise peeking through the leaves dotted your skin with beautiful rays of yellow. One had been over your eyes, and Aegon had seen your pupils shrink and reveal more of the purple that bathed there. He never wanted to leave that moment with you. He wanted to stay forever underneath that tree, trace the scars on your skin, and kiss every part of you until he had you squirm underneath him.

Aegon remembered how your breathing hastened as your jaw trembled at his touch, your face contorted into a gorgeous pout as he pulled your lip with his thumb. He noticed how you were clenching your thighs together even though you had no idea. Nothing had changed between the two of you, he realized. Aegon knew you desired him as much as he desired you. You just did not know it yet.

Gods. He wanted to take the empty seat next to you so badly but knew what his Mother would say if he did-- what she would do if he did. So, instead, he signaled for a serving girl to fill his chalice to the brim, drowning his sorrows in Arbor Red.

***

You felt rather pathetic as you shifted in your seat, the wood creaking with your weight as you still held your wreath of flowers. You could sense everyone's eyes on you and the empty chairs positioned at your sides. No one wanted to sit next to the bastard, you mocked in your head, feeling as if your eyes would pop out of your skull if you rolled them any harder.

It was the fifth round of the tourney, and five men had been knocked off their horses, but no fighting had ensued. Bracken, Tully, Arryn, Tyrell, and Blackwood boys had to skulk back to the stables knowing they had lost.

The King had still yet to show if he was ever going to, and you had given a fierce glare at Otto Hightower a few rows up when he announced the tournament had officially started. You had caught the stare of Princess Helaena in the process and immediately softened, returning her kind smile before the One-Eyed Prince stole her. You made a mental note to see her at the feast the following evening, perhaps share a dance or two.

With the end of the fifth round started the sixth, and the vibrant lion banners of House Lannister were prominently displayed as Ser Tyland entered the arena. He sat atop his chestnut horse, trotting over to the squire that held his lance. He approached the royal box, and you thought for a moment he might ask you for your favor. You couldn't hide the distance as he smiled up at you but turned his face away, looking at someone behind you.

"I am Ser Tyland of House Lannister," he announced.

Yes, you twat, you said internally, we know who you are. You live here.

"Princess Helaena," he called, and she looked up from her fingers to the man below her. His voice nearly made you vomit. "Would you do me the honor of bestowing your favor for the next round, Princess?" he asked chivalrously.

She glanced at her grandsire beside her, and he nodded in approval as she stood, her pale yellow dress shining in the autumn sun.

"Of course," she smiled, walking to the steps to place her ring of white and blue flowers on the pole of his lance.

"I thank you, your Grace," he replied and then trotted back to the waiting young squire.

Helaena stood there momentarily, her eyes glassy as she looked at you. It didn't feel like her gaze was on you, but more looking through you as she whispered. "Heed the beast within the deep. Rock runs red, and rocks bleed."

You looked at her confused, brows furrowing, and reached for her hand, asking her to speak louder. She quickly smacked it away, her eyes widening in fear as if she was suddenly woken from a dream, and she hurried up the steps.

You didn't have time to dwell on Helaena's outburst as Ser Tyland Lannister's opponent entered the wring. His armor was an impenetrable crepuscule steel and as shiny as the scales that covered your dragon's flesh, a helmet the same color with a mane of yellow hairs spanning from his crown to the base of his neck. His banners were ones you had only seen on paper. Most of the fabric was black, just like his thick armor, but the sigil was a deep golden kraken with ten long tentacles, nearly spanning the entire flag. The squid-like beasts of House Greyjoy were said to terrorize the depths of the oceans and sink the ships of those unsuspecting.

You were unsure of which Greyjoy it was. Dalton or Veron or maybe a cousin or some distant kin that shared the name. You didn't care who it was. They were just another lord or knight seeking fame inside a wood and dirt stadium.

You signaled for a servant, and he gave you a chalice of wine as you slumped in your seat. You didn't want to cloud your mind with alcohol, always the one to be alert and observe things other people may not notice, but this was getting rather irksome, and you needed something to do other than sit and look pretty.

"Ser Dalton of House Greyjoy," the knight said, his horse a dusty grey color as he lifted his helmet off his head. You ignored him with confidence that it was not you he was speaking to, taking another gulp of wine as you swirled the drink.

Dalton was a fierce and ruthless man. You had heard his stories of his youth sailing the Basilisk Isles with his late uncle, pillaging the towns there. He had somehow claimed a Valyrian steel sword named Nightfall during those plunders. At one point, he had aided in the battle of the Stepstones as a sellsail, where his uncle was murdered. It had been rumored in a fit of vengeance, he killed every enemy within his sight and emerged from the battle victorious and drenched in blood. Since then, he bore the title of the Red Kraken.

"I come seeking the favor of the bastard girl the court speaks so much of." A collective gasp sounded in the royal box, shocked at his words.

You barked out a laugh at Ser Dalton, attempting not to choke on the liquid you just swallowed. You should have been insulted at him for calling you such a name. In the eyes of the law and the Seven, you were no longer a bastard, but clearly, that did not stop people from claiming you as such.

"You have found her, Ser Dalton of House Greyjoy," you mocked, crossing your legs as you began to play with a small leaf. You smiled as you noticed the maroon outline of his House sigil on his breastplate.

Everything thing about him was dark and menacing. He radiated an aura of malevolence from the inside as if you would cut him open; he would not bleed the same red. "Though, I do not think you deserve my favor after calling me such a name." Men and women released more gasps, and you could hear someone muttering a soft "Gods be good" under their breath.

You waited for the following apology, but it did not come, leaving you sitting there like a fool. You hummed in disapproval, pushing yourself upright.

"I am no longer a bastard girl," you stood, holding the flower wreath between your fingers, "but that of a woman born from a night of sinful heat and passion. I am skilled with the blade and well-read. I study history, philosophy, and the politics of the realm." Ser Dalton's onyx gaze crept from your leather slippers to the white streak in your hair. He watched you step closer and lean over the railing so only he could hear you. "I am not just a simple fucking bastard girl."

He watched the words roll off your tongue, gripping his lance tighter with parted lips as you placed the circle of black and wine-colored flowers on it.

You fixed your spine, staring down your nose at the bannerman before you. "Win this joust Ser Dalton of House Greyjoy, and I will forgive the slight you have made upon me. For I am afraid if you do not, the sand of the Iron Islands shall turn to glass, and your Salt Wives will finally be free. You have my favor and my luck." You flicked your wrist as you walked back to your seat. "Off with you."

"Thank you, Princess. You honor me deeply." He lifted the fist that carried his helmet and crossed it over his chest, bowing his head with an amused smirk.

You sat down, grabbed the cup you had been working on, and asked the servant to fill it again, unbothered with his courtly manners. Ser Dalton placed his helmet back on and readied his horse for the first bout.

You almost chuckled at the sight, drink to your lips. Sitting on his horse, he looked like a nasty black pony with a yellow mane, ready to bite and kick anyone nearby. His whole get-up was quite ridiculous as you continued to watch.

Ser Tyland's armor was so very much... Lannister. There was no other word to describe the style. He wore a long red flowing cape, his dense silver breastplate trimmed with gold in the shape of a lion.

An announcer with a sizeable brass horn stepped onto a wooden platform a few meters before the royal box. He wore a plum-colored hat with a dyed feather and an off-white tunic dampened with sweat and stained with dust as he shouted the outlining phrases for the beginning of this round. He introduced each House and their respective ranks within them.

"Ser Dalton of House Greyjoy, Lord Reaper of Pyke, conqueror of thirteen Salt Wives, Lord of the Iron Islands," he boomed into the sky, swaying his hand to the right side of the arena to where the man was. He paused to let the crowd shout their praises.

Screams and hollers of people echoed loudly, drowning out the announcer as he introduced Tyland next. You could see the proud Lannister boy's ego was hurt at the apparent favoritism, and you feigned a pout at the sight.

Finally, he blew his horn, signaling they could begin. Ser Dalton did not waste a breath in fear as he charged at Ser Tyland, his yellow-striped lance already bent and ready to take his opponent off his horse. You scoffed, taking another sip of the sickly sweet wine.

If he planned to knock Tyland down on his first try, he clearly did not comprehend the point of a joust. You did not understand why the audience would love him if he intended to get this over swiftly. This was supposed to be entertainment and not battle. It was meant to be a spectacle for the crowd, a break from the mundane life of the court.

At the last second, as Dalton and Tyland were about to collide stick to the chest, Ser Dalton lifted his lance straight. Ser Tyland's breezed past his rival, completely missing his goal with a cheer from the crowd. You mirrored their sentiments but did not show it on the outside, only adjusting in your seat with a soft sigh. You saw Dalton to the left now, and if you did not know any better, smirked at you. Arrogant, just like the Lannisters.

They went at it again, the hooves of their steeds thundering on the packed earth. This time neither of them started with their poles down, only for Ser Tyland to raise it at the last moment and knock Ser Dalton in the shoulder. Sadly, he did not fall off his horse and only lost his grip on the lance, dragging a line in the dirt. You laughed, pleased to have witnessed at least some bruising to the man's pride.

You tried your best to ignore the stares of those behind you. They had been on you since you sat. No doubt, if you looked, you would only be met with aversion and disgust. You steeled yourself, moving from your slouched position to rest your hands on the arms of the chair.

Aegon was part of the stares, though his expression differed significantly from the others. His Mother had cast him a sidelong glance at his reaction, and only then did he outwardly calm. He had been inside his mind until the squid boy approached you, asking for your favor. He even had the gull to call you a bastard! In front of nearly the entire court of the Red Keep! Oh, how Aegon wanted to call his dragon and burn the fish to pieces.

It also did nothing to soothe him when he saw you lean over the box fence, telling the squid boy only something he could hear. He knew your breasts were on display for the man judging by his hungry gaze. At one point, Aegon swore he saw him adjust his stance in the saddle.

Aegon was furious. His nails dug into his seat's material, feeling splinters wedge underneath them. He stole a pitcher of wine from a servant, keeping it on his lap so he could have continued access to it.

He was so, so furious as he watched your sudden interest in the tournament. He knew you were only mesmerized by the men in front of you because Ser Dalton gave you attention. Aegon wasn't upset over that; no, he was upset over the fact that the Lord of Pyke had won the round by hitting Tyland Lannister straight into the chest, sending him flying into the dust. He noticed how your shoulders lifted with barely contained excitement as he watched Ser Dalton send a bow your way.

He groaned, not filtering his discontent for the rest of the rounds that unfolded, which, sadly, each one Ser Dalton was the victor of. Eventually, the final bout started. His opponent was a Glover boy from the north, unsure of which one, but it didn't matter as he witnessed the Red Kraken get thrown from his horse. Aegon couldn't help but cheer theatrically at the sound of the lance splintering when colliding with his stomach.

He had caught your sudden gaze then, brown eyes flitting over how he stood and clapped his hands. You didn't smile but gave him a look of confusion, your thick brows furrowing. He had felt his jubilance subside, but only slightly.

Suddenly, Ser Dalton shouted, yanking a sword and shield from his squire and challenging the victor to a duel. Aegon felt his stomach sink into his chair as a strand of his blonde mane obscured his vision. Oh, splendid, he mused; the squid has pride.

The Glover had taken up the challenge without strife, still proudly wearing the banner of his House on his back. Aegon wondered if you had ever witnessed a duel before. He knew you had taken a life, but it was not the same as watching someone do it. Selfishly, he dreamed you would turn away at the sight and seek comfort from him, but that was all it was... a dream.

You watched with surprise as the Glover's and Dalton's swords clashed, the clang ringing in your ears. Each slash and thud of their metal longswords sent a jolt through your bones, curling your toes and squeezing your drink in a vice-like grip. You hated to admit that you felt nervous, your heart beating just a little too fast to be considered normal.

Ser Dalton's swings were wild but held a skillful precision, connecting with the Glover's side. It knocked the wind out of the poor boy's lungs and had him raising his shield as Dalton kicked it, sending him stumbling further.

He was so savage, so bloodthirsty that it made you shiver. You finally understood why he was called the Red Kraken, and you feared for the Glover's life. Surely, he wouldn't kill the boy; you hoped he wouldn't. The poor lad looked like he had just become a man. He was much shorter than Dalton but still taller than you, and he looked like this was his first tourney. You wished he would yield.

Ser Dalton swung at the boy, his armored fist connecting to his jaw with a nauseating crunch of bone and metal. Confidently, he kicked to disoriented teen in the stomach, knocking him to the ground, his sword falling just out of reach. He went to pull his shield to defend himself, but Dalton stomped on the arm that carried it. You could see how the Kraken stood over the Armored Glove, unable to hear what he said to him. You didn't need to. You knew what came next, and it did not frighten you. The Glover lost the duel as the Greyjoy raised his sword, cutting off the words that attempted to leave his tongue with a blade to the throat.

It was bloody. So very bloody. The essence of the Glovers' life force spurted from his body onto the face of Ser Dalton Greyjoy, dripping from his chin. You heard the gasps of those around you, a platter dropping at the horrific show as the ground became saturated with red. You didn't feel sad as you watched two people drag his body away, the crowd bursting into cheers and applause. In fact, you felt hardly anything, sitting as if nothing had happened as the announcer raised Ser Dalton's hand in triumph. You were used to death by now.

To the outside person, you looked alright, but Aegon knew you were anything but. Your knuckles blanched around your drink, resting it in your lap. He felt foolish to think you would shy away from such things. He knew you were much more robust than that, but still, he hoped you would run to him.

Everything next seemed to happen in slow motion. Aegon watched the crown of roses intended for the Queen of Love and Beauty be placed into Dalton's bloodied palms, strutting over to the royal box as he called out the most beautiful name he had ever heard... Yours.

His little one. His love.

Aegon went to jump out of his seat, but the firm hand of his Mother yanked his arm, abruptly pulling him back down before he could mock the royal family with his outburst. He wanted to rip his Mother off him and run to you. He wished to hide you from the hundreds of eyes staring at you. This wasn't right. He panicked. This cannot be right. You were his, and he was yours until the end of days.

He pictured what Ser Dalton's head would look like on a spike as you walked down the stairs and onto the small platform below. He watched the Salt Lord's eyes rake across your body as he placed the crown on your head, whispering something that made you clench your fists.

Everyone knew what this meant grandiose display meant. The Lord Reaper of Pyke intended to court his pretty girl and make a Salt Wife out of her. No, Aegon thought. That will never do.

Master List of Series

Spotify Playlist

YouTube Playlist

I hope y'all liked this chapter. It's an exciting one! We've met a new character, Dalton Greyjoy. He plays a big part in The Dance of Dragons. I won't spoil it for anyone, but let's say his heart runs black… The next chapter is the feast for our baby boy's 20th birthday! Let's hope Aegon gets everything he wishes for.

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @bellameshipper, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @buckylahey, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @fatalewomen, @somemydayy, @ariana-dumbledore8, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @sunny-boy-06

Bold means I couldn't tag you for some reason :(

230 notes · View notes

procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year ago

Text

House of the Dragon Masterlist

my requests for HotD are currently OPEN! i especially love writing for harwin and ser criston (controversial ik!) but i'm open to pretty much any character :)

hmu to be added to a taglist!

main masterlist | request guidelines

Aemond 'One-Eye' Targaryen

Of Traitors and Oathbreakers / Ending 1 / Ending 2 - relationship: aemond x reader | summary: A Black in Greens territory is never a good thing, especially if that means falling into the hands of Prince Aemond | tags: angst, smut

Aemond Targaryen NSFW Alphabet - relationship: aemond x reader | tags: smut

Aegon ii Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen NSFW Alphabet - relationship: aegon x reader | tags: smut

Ser Criston Cole

Fashioned for love / Pt. 2: Our Great Glory - relationship: Ser Criston Cole x reader | summary: It’s never clear what he’s thinking – and you’re not sure if you want to know. | tags: angst, fluff, smut

Patience is the Virtue of a Lady - relationship: Ser Criston Cole x reader | summary: As Daemon's wife, you are left humiliated by your errant husband. As the product of an annulled marriage, you are seen as barren and tainted, left to befriend Queen Alicent, gaining the reputation of an unsalvageable woman over the years. But, the heart wants what it wants, and you have had your eyes on unattainable Ser Criston for years. | tags: angst, smut

Waters - relationship: Ser Criston Cole x reader | summary: Your existence is an insult to the woman you serve, Alicent Hightower. As Viserys Targaryen's bastard, you should not be serving his lawfully wedded wife - and Ser Criston knows this. Still, he can't seem to stay away... | tags: angst, smut

Criston Cole NSFW Alphabet - relationship: criston x reader | tags: smut

Corlys 'the Seasnake' Velaryon

Corlys Velaryon NSFW Alphabet - relationship: corlys x reader | tags: smut

Daemon 'the Rogue Prince' Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen NSFW Alphabet - relationship: daemon x reader | tags: smut

Harwin 'Breakbones' Strong

I am his, and he is mine / Mine to take / A child of our own / Everything and More- relationship: harwin x reader | summary: You’re married off to Ser Harwin Strong by your lord father’s designs, and the prospect of a marriage consummation terrifies you. All of these can be read as standalones! | tags: fluff, smut

Harwin Strong NSFW Alphabet - relationship: harwin x reader | tags: smut

OC: Alethia 'the Immortal' Stahl

Hand turns Loom - relationships: harwin x oc, aemond x oc, rhaenyra x alicent | summary: Hand turns loom. Destiny fucks Alethia over once more. She’d changed the course of history, changed it for the better even. She’d helped defeat the Dead, and then she’d made a vow to never fight again.

Instead, she gets sent back in time, right to the prelude of the Dance of the Dragons. Haunted by memories, and having to deal with the sudden loss of Sansa and her son, she has to navigate a game far more dangerous than the Night’s Watch. | tags: fluff, smut, angst, timetravel

a/n: this fic is extremely important to me! i've created several ocs in the course of the 44 chapters i have written, and plan on completely re-writing the Dance. If modern person in ... interests you, check this out!

gifset by @levithestripper

the fashion of 'Hand turns Loom': women - relationships: none | tags: inspo

more fashion by the amazing, wonderful @15-lizards

oc masterpost - tags: inspo, contains spoilers

#alethia stahl #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #criston cole #criston cole x reader #corlys velaryon #corlys velaryon x reader #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen x reader #harwin strong #harwin x reader #harwin strong x reader

347 notes · View notes

misguidedasgardian · 1 year ago

Text

Desire & Duty (1)

I. Fire & Blood

MASTERLIST

Summary: Aemond finds a way to take his pleasure in his duty

Pairings: Helaena x Targaryen!sister reader, Aegon II x Helaena, future Aemond x Targaryen!reader x Helaena

Warnings: Medieval ASOIF Customs, canon incest, cursing, polyamorous, incestous polygamy, Aemond is more savvy to girl on girl love 😂, mentions of war and death, blood, unreal ceremonies involving fire and blood, blood drinking, lip slicing, polyamorous marriage, jiji you know what this is about

Wordcount: 3.4k

Notes: I’m going to do what I think the TV series is going to do, Maelor, (Aegons’s and Helaena’s youngest son) isn’t alive (yet maybe?), Helaena doesn’t lose any children, I want only love and sex for our beautiful Helaena. ALSO, maybe spoilers… this will be smoother, like I said, I want it to be short, sweet and kinky, so I’m not going to dwindle on details jiji

Two years later

Too much had changed

Too many had died

Too many loose, too much war and trauma

The entire country was destroyed, burned, people were merely joining together after being divided by war.

He had to put together a new council, his grandfather died, so it all stood between Tyland Lannister, as the master of coin, Corlys Velaryon as the master of ships, and other old men.

And now, as he was recently made King, everyone, his mother specially, were urging him to take a wife.

All the surviving Targaryen children had proposals for their hands…

But he already knew what he wanted, he had wanted it for years

First, since he was a child, he always wanted to marry his younger sister, she would always follow him around, even though if her dragon hatched and his didn’t, she would always be kind to him, they would read together, take their lessons together, when he lost his eye, she comforted him, and wouldn’t leave his side for months. He always knew they were destined to be together, to marry in the tradition of their house. And he had always loved Helaena deeply as well, he always resented the way Aegon treated her, and a fierce need to protect her was born in him.

And then he learned about you both, spending your nights in each other's embrace, and he thought he would lose his mind.

When the war broke out after he accidentally murdered Lucerys, he had to put all his fantasies about his sister in the back of his mind. He needed to have a clear head, but he never forgot about everything he heard and saw.

Everything he did he did for his two sisters, all of it, he fought with determination against Daemon and prevailed, only with the thought of seeing you both again, only with the determination of telling you how much he desired you and loved you. He won.

Even though you were in the battlefield as well

He was King now, his brother, Aegon, was dead, his half sister Rhaenrya, was dead, his nephews were dead. The only ones he had left were his beautiful sisters, Helaena, her and Aegon’s children, and (Y/N). Also his mother had survived the rage of Rhaenyra.

They had won

He sat the Iron Throne as a Regent, waiting for his nephew to come of age, but he was in all effects, a King, the King of the Seven Kingdoms

So when his mother suggested you marry a Lannister, Helaena be sent away to Dorne, and he a Baratheon girl, he lost it

“I will not sell my sister away!”, he barked, “she has been through enough!”

“She is a young woman…”, clarified Alicent, “she still has her children by Aegon… but she can still have more children, we need to make alliances”

“What we need is to make the House of the Dragon strong again, diluting our blood with those houses will not help us”, Alicent looked at him in terror, deducing what he was saying

“You cannot wed Helaena… it will look terrible to the smallfolk”, she warned, thinking about how they raised against them, supporting one of Aegon’s bastard children

“A dragon cares about the opinion of sheeps then?”, he mocked

“Aemond”

“Our family had been decimated”, he barked, “The Targaryen line is in the brink of extinction, we need to keep the family pure”, Alicent looked like she had been struck

“It is not wise”, she begged, but sending her daughter away didn’t pleased her either, Helaena was the… gentler… of her children, and she would not wish to see her part from her home and her family. And Aemond seemed determined, so she sighed loudly, “Helaena has her children by Aegon”, she repeated, but she relented, “and what about your other sister?”, she asked then. Aemond chuckled

“I will take them both to wife”, and right there, Aemond thought fleetingly that Alicent has survived the Targaryen civil war, but this just might end up finishing her off.

“No”, she sentenced, Aemond only smiled

“I will take them both to wife, Jahaerys will succeed me either way, no matter what I do, I’m just King Regent”, he said mindesly

“No Aemond, you can marry (Y/N) if you want, but not both”, she said, but there was nothing she could say to prevent it

She could argue that the faith would oppose it, but it was terribly weakened, almost to extinction, by Rhaenyra when she attacked the city, that was a blow thrown directly at her, and her faith.

“You better let me marry both, as I will take Helaena as a lover either way”, he warned, and Alicent’s eyes filled with tears

“What did I do wrong with all of you?”, she lamented, finding it incredibly unfair that she couldn’t pass down her faith to any of her children. “this is twisted! you are not Aegon the Conqueror”

Targaryens, as their dragons, didn’t answer to neither Gods nor men, Alicent often failed to remember that

“I might as well be”, he said dismissively, “I will wed my sisters, and have children with both”

Alicent just cried silently, but said nothing.

Many things have happened in the last few years. A war broke out, a war for the throne. There was no time for anything else, you never got betrothed, you were dispensable, now that your sister and brother were Queen and King, Helaena couldn’t fight on dragonback, but you could.

And so you offered yourself as a dragon rider, even against your mother’s wishes, but Dreamfyre was already grounded, your dragon Vhaelar was needed in the battlefield, and so were you. You had burned armies to the ground, you had commanded the death of people by the thousands.

Now wearing dresses and jewelry was almost foreign to you, as the maids helped you dress with a beautiful crimson red gown. they braided your hair and placed rubies between your silver strands, they placed a necklace with the same precious gems around your neck, and you put multiple rings on your fingers

You saw your sister entering your chambers, and you smiled brightly at her sight

“Is it odd that I find dresses incredibly comfortable after being two years dressed in riding gear and coat of mail?”, you asked her cheekily, she only shook her head

“It isn’t”, you hugged her tightly and she hugged you back, burying her face on your neck

“It’s finally over”, what marked the end of the war was the defeat and surrender of the Northerner army. Cregan Stark finally yielded after the ship were Rhaenyra’s last sons had sunk in the Narrow sea after a final attack from the Triarchy’s fleet

You did not cheer for their deaths, they were only children after all, innocent little children, your nephews, if you managed to get a hold of them, they were going to be raised in the castle with princess Jahaera and Jahaerys, but no. Fate had other plans

The wolf had surrendered and pardoned, marching North as you both held each other, the last one standing

The war was over.

You were preparing for weeks of celebrations, but you only wanted to be in between your sister’s loving arms.

But again, destiny had other plans

You mother entered the room, enthralled in her own mind to notice the not so sisterly embrace, you and Helaena separated to greet your mother. The Queen Mother now

“I have something important to discuss”, you guessed it couldn’t be anything good, she had that scowl on her face

“what is it dear mother?”, asked Helaena

“Your brother, the King”, you noticed she had a sort of fascination for saying his title, “wants to take a wife”

You didn’t know why, but a bitter taste installed in your mouth. Was Aemond going to get married?

You always believed you were going to marry your brother, you loved him, but you also believed your mother had only betrothe your eldest siblings to avoid Helaena being married to Jacaerys, and you then believed you were going to be married to Jace, but then the war happened, Jace had died.

“Who does he intend to marry?”, you notice that Helaena was frowning, clearly not thrilled with the news as well as you

You two had always been so jealous with Aemond, when there was discussions of Floris Baratheon marrying him you wanted to feed her to your dragon. In your mind, Aemond was yours, you were born to be together, you were born younger than him to be his wife, as the tradition of your house dictated.

Helaena grabbed your hand and held it tightly,making you wince, your mother didn’t seemed to notice

“He intents to take you both to wife”

And different emotions filled you

In a first instance it was bittersweet because your mother truly looked like she was going to be sick, her mouth twisted in disgust. But you felt incredibly happy and relieved, joyous even

Helaena did as well, and she held your hand tightly and smiled at you

That your mother did notice

“You will say no”, she demanded

“Why?”, you couldn’t help but ask, and she looked at you like she wanted to strike you

“Because it's an aberration!”, she screeched, Helaena walked until she was behind you, hiding from her own mother, and you gladly protected her

“If our king wants to marry us, who are we to say no?”, you mocked, and her face twisted even more. Her mouth turned into a horrible expression of disgust and horror, as her eyes shined with tears of anger

“All of you…!”, she seemed to gather air, as the words that would come out of her mouth tasted like poison in her tongue, “... ARE SICK!”, it didn’t take long for her to place two and two together, she believed you both were going to be horrified by the news of her, she never thought you BOTH would like the prosper of sharing a bed with your brother Aemond, “I FORBID IT”

You had never seen your mother like this, she lost it, completely lost it, and if it weren’t for Helaena, and her trembling frame behind you, you would have been scared also, but you couldn’t afford that luxury, when you felt Helaena whimper behind your back, you felt the need to protect her, even if you needed to protect her from your own mother.

“I RAISED WHORES!”, and she cursed you all, Helaena, you, Aemond, all of you, cursed by your own mother. She screeched, threw around everything she could get her hands on, you turned back and hugged Helaena against you, trying to cover her ears as Alicent destroyed everything around you.

But she couldn’t destroy your love…

The guards posted outside your doors heard the commotion, and ran to get the King’s guard, and as two of the white capes ran towards Helaena’s, (the Queen’s) rooms, one of them fetched Aemond

Three white capes ended up entering the room, Aemond trotting behind them, and under his command, they grabbed your mother, firmly, but gently, and removed her from your space

You said nothing but grabbed Helaena’s hand and led her to your own rooms, which were still quiet.

They were small, but still in Maegor’s Holdfast, you had insisted in this room because it had big windows, looked into Blackwater bay, and still got sun for most part of the day.

Aemond quickly followed you

When he decided to marry you both, he knew he was going to face opposers, he knew his mother, and her strong beliefs, he was also reminded she betrothed her two oldest children to prevent Rhaenyra on insisting to marry Jacaerys and Helaena

She did not share the Valyrian customs.

That and the civil war that killed her father, Aegon, and almost her grandchildren, had left her in the brink of mental collapse

But it didn’t hurt less, having your own mother scream at you like this.

As soon as you arrived in the comfort of your room, you took Helaena’s hands in yours, she was still shaking, and you kissed them, caressing the back of their hands with your thumbs, immediately soothing her, but yet not enough.

You looked at Aemond, who was standing by the door

It was strange

Every time you saw him, you immediately felt relieved, like everything was going to be alright. Like you were lost in the sea and he was the light of the lighthouse, guiding you back home.

The last two years, you had been separated by the war, and you had just got back home after months leading the Green Army of Old Town, you still had to welcome in each other's lives

But Helaena holds tight to you, and in that moment, nothing else matters. You turned to her, she leaned in and you made your forehead touch, your hand went to softly cradle her cheek

“Everything is going to be alright”, you whispered, and she nodded slightly, “We are together again, nothing will come between us, not even her”

“She hates us”, she whined, “her own blood”

“She doesn't hate us, she doesn’t understand us”, you said simply, she just shook her head, and hid in your neck, you hugged her tightly against you

“I send her to her rooms in the tower of the hand”, he offered, “until she can think about what she did”, you barely nodded, but Helaena wasn’t pleased with that decision

“It is not going to change her mind”, she whispered sadly, She squeezed your hand in hers

“Is it true, brother?”, you asked softly, “that you want to marry us?”, you sounded hopeful, and innocent, and that made Aemond tight in his breeches embarrassingly fast

But he regained his composure, he grasped his hands behind his back, and straightened his posture, looking at the both of you with respect, and also devotion

“I can’t stand the thought of anyone else taking you both away from here, away from me”, he admitted

He had to be straight forward, he had known you for all your life, he wanted you both, he desired you, and he was going to have you

“Our mother has forbid us”, you said, and he smiled when he saw a hint of a smirk on your lips

“I will send her away”, he said simply, “she will benefit from being in Old Town, with her family”, he took a step towards you both, and you didn’t move, you just looked back at him, “the real question is, what do you both want to do?”, you looked at each other and smiled

Aemond looked at your intertwined handsome and smirked as well

“I know about both of you”, he said, he walked until he was within your reach, he reached for both of you, and you reached back, soon all of your hands were intertwined, “I will protect you”, he said softly, looking at you and then looking at Helaena, “together we will rule the seven Kingdoms, like Aegon did with Visenya and Rhaenys by his side”, he said, and even though you didn’t believe that was the right reason to join in marriage like Aegon had done, you nodded, and looked at Helaena who nodded as well.

You both turned to Aemond

“My beautiful sisters”, he whispered, his voice thick with desire, “I couldn’t stand the thought of any other man having you”, he leaned in, first towards you, and trapped your lips with his, it was sweet and passionate, it took your breath away, but before it could escalate he abandoned you and turned to Helaena

She was expecting him and devoured him with need and passion.

“No one is ever going to touch you ever again”, he said possessively, “you will be mine, and mine alone, you will give me heirs as well”

“Mother will never allow it”, she whispered

“We are the blood of the dragons, and dragons answer to neither gods nor men”, he growled

Aemond led you to the Dragonpit, and from there, you took your dragons, Helaena on her beautiful she-dragon Dreamfyre, Aemond in the monstrous Vhagar, and you, in Vhagar’s hatchling, or so they said, Vhaelar.

He had grown to be a male, you and Helaena discovered both your dragons coiled together in the pit, you had heard Vhaelar sing to Dreamfyre, and since they had been seen together, Dreamfyre had laid various clutches of eggs. It was so sweet.

Aemond led you, and it didn’t take long for you to realize you were flying towards Dragonstone.

As soon as you landed in the Dragonmount, the Dragon keepers received you.

They knew, you knew, it was an immediate understanding.

Before the end of the day, you and Helaena were fixing each other's headdress and ceremonial robes.

“We will not be married to one another”, she whispered sadly, fixing a silver string that framed your face

“We will”, you whispered

“We will be both married to Aemond”, she said then… and you just giggled

“And that will be enough, we will be together forever”, you said with a wide smile, she smiled back.

So you joined hands, and together, you walked towards the beach

The night had already fallen over the Island, but yet, thanks to the fires lit all over the beach, you were able to see clearly Aemond and the Dragon keepers

Aemond looked so handsome, his eyepatch was missing, his beautiful sapphire shining thanks to the flames of the fire, his hair loose, neatly combed back, he reached for the both of you, taking one of your hands and one of Helaena’s

In a strange way, you always knew this was going to be the beginning for you. Even though that for Helaena, it was like a second opportunity, and for Aemond… for Aemond it was his dream come true.

The night was calm, a nice summer night, the star were shining brightly, there was no wind, none, the only sounds that could be heard where the ones of the fires crackling, and the soft voice of the Dragon Keeper, reciting the vows

You knew High Valyrian, it was the only thing your father had ever insisted regarding the education of his children, but for some reason, you couldn’t quite pay attention. Your sole attention was on Aemond in front of you, and Helaena by your side.

The touch in your hands, where Helaena and you hold hands, the breathing of your siblings, and soon your spouses…, the night was magical, you could feel it in the air.

You could hear your dragons singing, you could feel the words of the keeper

Fire & Blood

The words that bound you, the words that led your house.

Amond took a knife made of dragon glass, he gently sliced Helaena’s hand, and then yours, you winced at the sting, but it passed quickly, you then grabbed the knife together with Helaena, and asliced one of his hands.

Your blood flowed freely to the chalice underneath, the blood of the three of you.

Then Aemond sliced your lip, and then Helaena’s, and then you sliced his. with the blood from your lips he drew a symbol in your forehead, looking straight into your eyes you got lost in his, he then drew on Helaena.

He kissed you sweetly, the tangy flavor of blood mixing in your tongue, then he leaned in and kissed Helaena. But then, you turned to your sister, and kissed her as well, surprising Aemond, and the dragon keeper as well

You were marrying her too, not only Aemond…

But now, you are married.

Married, bloodied, bonded together

In Fire and Blood.

taglist! ❤️❤️🔥🔥

@sloppy0bitch @sweethoneyblossom1 @aemondsdelight @floofdeloop @fangirlninja67

#misguideddesire #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #helaena x you #helaena targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x helaena #aemond x helaena x you #aemond x reader x helaena #hbo house of the dragon #house of the dragon

246 notes · View notes

howyouloveyourdragon · 2 years ago

Text

ASOIAF Masterlist

does not include series' * means it includes smut dividers from saradika

House of the Dragon taglist

Rhaenyra Targaryen

fics: - Lavander Haze - Mastermind - alpha!rhaenyra claims sister, ii* (request) - Yandere alpha!rhaenyra x omega half-sister betrothal (request) - Yandere Rhaenyra takes half-sister from greens power play* (request) - Yandere Rhaenyra punishes omega reader after lords flirt with her* (request) - Alpha!rhaenyra x soft shy omega!sister x alpha!daemon* (request) - Pearls* – sugar mommy rhaenyra au (ft. alicent) - Of Lances and Thorns – male!hightower reader (pending) - A Sunset Seal – male!martell reader (pending) - Perfect – fem!tully reader (pending) - My One and Only, My Lifeline - rhaenicent band au (pending) - Young Dragon (request) (pending) - One Flesh, One Heart, One soul (request) (pending)

headcanons: - Yandere Rhaenyra x Lady-in-waiting (request) - Yandere Rhaenyra takes half-sister from greens* (request) - Yandere Rhaenyra x female dragonseed* ii* (request) - Yandere Daemon joins Rhaenyra x half-sister (request) - Dragonseed reader saves Rhaenyra from execution & Aegon the young (request) - Yandere Rhaenyra x Valyrian sorceress reader* (request) - Short Valentines Day headcanons - Alpha Rhaenyra and omega Aegon headcanons (request) - Platonic Yandere Rhaenyra x Aegon (platonic) (request) (pending) - rhaenyra and laenor x aemond headcanons (request) (pending) - rhaenyra looking after her siblings instead (request) (pending) - rhaenys looking after the kids (request) (pending) - Alpha rhaenyra x omega half sister parenting their kids (request) (pending) - Yandere rhaenyra x daemons bastard daughter (request) (pending) - Yandere rhaenyra x yandere laenor x son reader (request) (pending) - Yandere rhaenyra x laenor son (request) (pending) - Yandere rhaenyra x handmaiden (request) (pending) - yandere rhaenyra x female dragonkeeper (request) (pending) - yandere mom rhaenyra x orphan reader (request) (pending) - alpha rhaenyra x omega velaryon reader (request) (pending) - alpha rhaenyra x omega hightower reader (request) (pending) - rhaenyra targaryen x velaryon reader (request) (pending) - alpha rhaenyra x omega aegon x alpha daemon (request) (pending) - yandere rhaenyra x aegon headcanons (request) (pending) - yandere rhaenyra x helaena (request) (pending)

Alicent Hightower

fics: - Only Queen - Last Kiss - Pearls* – sugar mommy rhaenyra x reader x sugar mommy alicent (ft. rhaenyra) (pending) - The Set-Up – male!velaryon reader (pending) - A Breeze of Decay (pending) - My One and Only, My Lifeline - rhaenicent band au (pending)

headcanons: - Short Valentines Day headcanons

Jacaerys Velaryon

fics: - Everybody Wants you - Namesday* (ft. aemond x reader) - The Heart Bestowed – tyrell!reader - No Rest For The Dragons (request) - Too Much, Too Little* (request) (pending)

headcanons: - Short Valentines Day headcanons - Haelena x Jacaerys headcanons (request) (pending)

Aemond Targaryen

fics: - Some Thread Of Time - Namesday* (ft jacaerys x reader) - Sweet Girl* (ft aegon x reader) - Crystals* (ft alys rivers x reader) (pending)

headcanons: - Short Valentines Day headcanons

Aegon Targaryen

fics: - Gold Rush - Sweet Girl* (ft. aemond x reader) - Prince of Rouge – moulin rouge au, satine!aegon targaryen (pending) - The Memories (pending) - Eagerness* (pending)

headcanons: - Alpha Rhaenyra and omega Aegon platonic headcanons (request) - Short Valentines Day headcanons

Helaena Targaryen

fics: - Maroon - I Think He Did It (pending) - Soft Peace (request) (pending)

headcanons: - Short Valentines Day headcanons - yandere rhaenyra x helaena (request) (pending) - haelena x jacaerys headcanons (request) (pending)

Cregan Stark

fics: - Parchment (pending)

headcanons:

Corlys Velaryon

fics: - The Moon

headcanons: - Short Valentines Day headcanons

Daemon Targaryen

fics: - alpha!rhaenyra x soft shy omega!sister x alpha!daemon* (request) - Remnants* – fem!peasant reader - The Heat* (request) (pending) - Gentle Light (request) (pending) - Head of House (request) (pending)

headcanons: - Yandere Daemon joins Rhaenyra x half-sister (request) - Short Valentines Day headcanons - daemon x hightower fem reader (request) (pending) - alpha rhaenyra x omega aegon x alpha daemon (request) (pending)

Rhaenys Targaryen

fics:

headcanons: - rhaenys looking after the kids (request) (pending)

Alys Rivers

fics: - Crystals* (ft aemond x reader) (pending)

headcanons:

Game Of Thrones

Daenerys Targaryen

fics: - alpha daenerys x brat omega!reader (request)

headcanons:

Margaery Tyrell

fics: - Taking Charge* – ft Robb Stark (request) - Any Path We Take (pending)

headcanons:

Robb Stark

fics: - Taking Charge* – ft Robb Stark (request) - Fight it – targaryen!reader (pending) - Best Friend's Brother (request) (pending)

headcanons:

Arya Stark

fics: - yandere arya x fem!reader pt 2 pt3 (pending) (request)

headcanons:

Bran Stark

fics: - Lady By The Sea – mermaid!reader (pending)

headcanons:

Jaime Lannister

fics: