#daeron’s last moments

[simplynotcapable]

(“I have been having the most terrible dreams,” Helaena once told him. “You fall up to the sky and the moon’s light burns you down to nothing. You must vow to me that you will never leave the ground at night. Swear it to me, Daring.”

He swore, he swore, but he did wonder why Helaena feared the fall so much more than the fire. The ground did not kill him in her dreams, after all—the moon did. The moon and its fire.)

daring

[saltywritings]

Unsworn Protector ( Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen Niece! Reader )

Summary: The reader is sent to Old Town with Daeron, however, is left in an uncomfortable situation when her uncle finds her with a pillow.

Warnings: explicit smut under the cut minors do not interact, incest, age gap, reader has a pillow princess moment, oral (female receiving), penetration, Gwayne is giving sub vibes.

Word count: 3,728

The journey to Old Town was arduous and slow, a monotonous trek that seemed designed to drain one's spirit. Few things could be more disheartening than being sent to Old Town, a place that felt like exile. Your mother, the queen, insisted that sending you and your younger brother Daeron there was for the best, claiming it would build character—whatever that meant. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that she simply preferred not to deal with you. Sending you and Daeron away made it easier for her to focus on Aegon. Despite her intentions, you were frustrated by being uprooted from your home, all in the name of this so-called character building.

When the carriage finally arrived in Old Town, your eyes took in the sights as you traveled swiftly through the city. Having spent your entire life in King's Landing, Old Town seemed exceptionally small. You noticed the tall walls surrounding the castle, some sections near the gate clad in ivy.

"Finally, we're here," Daeron exclaimed as he rushed to the carriage door, eager to free himself from its confines.

With a mix of frustration and disgust, you pushed at your brother’s back as he deliberately blocked the carriage door, trapping you inside. "Daeron!" you shouted, your hands shoving at the coarse fabric of his shirt. "Let me out, you fool!" You struggled against him as he laughed, his mirth only heightening your irritation.

Suddenly, another voice cut through the commotion. "Come now, my prince. Let your sister out," it urged. Reluctantly, Daeron relented and stepped down the few stairs, finally freeing you from the confined space of the carriage.

As you finally freed yourself from the carriage, you realized the voice belonged to your uncle, Gwayne Hightower. Though many years had passed since you last saw him, you recognized him instantly. Stepping forward, your feet now firmly planted on the ground, you shot a sharp glare at Daeron, resisting the urge to shove him, before turning back to your uncle.

"Thank you, Uncle," you said with a small nod.

Daeron, looking bewildered, finally noticed Gwayne. "Oh—Uncle Gwayne. I didn’t recognize you," he replied, prompting you to narrow your eyes.

"I’m not surprised," you said. "You were but a babe the last time he visited."

"Indeed you were," Gwayne said with a warm smile. "I'm surprised you recognize me, Princess. You've grown as much as your brother."

He stepped forward, extending his hand toward you. You raised yours to meet his, and he took it gently, bringing it to his lips with a delicate kiss that conveyed a soft, caring warmth. Your eyes fluttered slightly as you looked at him, appreciating the affectionate gesture.

"You've grown so much," he remarked, turning his attention to Daeron.

"I'm certain I haven't grown that much," you insisted with a modest smile.

Daeron glanced at you, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and snorted. "Oh, trust me, you’ve grown—just not in height, sister," he mocked. Unable to restrain yourself, you gave him a small shove in response.

Your uncle watched the exchange, a faint smile playing on his lips, and shook his head with a soft chuckle at your sibling rivalry.

Gwayne shook his head with a gentle sigh, his gaze shifting to Daeron. "Now, nephew, I understand why your mother insisted on sending you here. One day, you'll realize the value of your sister's presence. Treat her with the respect she deserves," he urged, his tone firm yet compassionate. You cast a sidelong glance at your brother, a small smile playing on your lips now that your uncle had come to your defense.

Daeron responded with an eye roll, his demeanor defiant. Gwayne cleared his throat, his expression turning more serious. "I'll have your cousin show you to your room, Daeron," he declared, nodding towards him. "As for you, Princess," Gwayne continued, extending his arm toward you. "I will personally escort you to your chambers." You took his arm promptly, grateful for his support and guidance in this unfamiliar place.

Gwayne escorted you up the stairs and down a hallway to your assigned room. As the door swung open, you couldn't shake the feeling of entering a stranger's room. Though the space was well-appointed and fair, it lacked the personal touch of home. Sensing your unease, Gwayne spoke up as the two of you entered.

"This will be your chambers. My quarters are just next door," he explained, his voice reassuring. "Consider me your protector, close at hand." His words were accompanied by a small, comforting smile.

In that moment, you realized Gwayne's striking presence: his piercing blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and eloquent speech. His demeanor offered a sense of security that eased your nerves, prompting you to return his smile warmly.

"You are to be your sworn protector then?" you questioned, eyebrows knitting together as you stood somewhat puzzled. Gwayne couldn't help but chuckle softly as he shook his head.

"No, sweet niece. There's no need for that here," he reassured you gently, "but I promise to watch over you." His words carried a comforting assurance.

You nodded in understanding, your hand still linked with his arm. "Did my mother explain why she sent me here?" you asked, recalling her vague answers and insistence that leaving the Red Keep was in your best interest. Gwayne sensed your unease and took your hands in his with tender care.

"Niece," he spoke softly, "Your mother didn't want to send you away, but you're soon to be married—or at least betrothed. She thought it would be easier for you not to be uprooted from your home like many maidens are." His explanation caused you to look away, a mixture of emotions stirring within you.

"I don't want to be betrothed to a stranger," you confessed to your uncle, your hands still held in his. "The thought of belonging to a man I don't know, who doesn't know me—it frightens me."

Gwayne's expression softened at your confession. He released one of your hands and gently cupped your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. His blue eyes held a depth of understanding as he listened intently to your words.

"Your feelings are valid, my dear. Many women share your apprehensions—I know your mother did," Gwayne said soothingly, hoping to bring you comfort. "Besides, not every lady finds herself betrothed to a stranger. Try not to let fear cloud your judgment until you've had the chance to know your intended," he urged gently, sensing he had eased your nerves.

"I'll leave you to rest now," Gwayne added, seeing your nod of approval. With that, he quietly exited your chambers.

As night descended upon Old Town, you tossed and turned in your sleep, consumed by an unrelenting yearning. The unfamiliar blankets and sheets, devoid of your scent, offered no comfort. Frustrated, you reached for a plush pillow, sitting up and clutching it tightly between your thighs. Slowly, you would rock your hips back and forth, pushing down your core with some friction to alleviate this frustration that burned between your thighs. Your eyes fluttered closed, your night gown slipping from your shoulder as your hips desperately humped the pillow beneath you. You thought of your uncle, you knew you shouldn't, and yet- you could not help but to think of how kissed your hand, the blue of his eyes, how he smelled of sage.

On the other side of the door, Gwayne awoke to a plaintive sound that he initially mistook for a cry. Even through the stone walls, the soft echo of his niece's distress reached him. With concern driving him, Gwayne rose from his bed, the urgency of his duty as her uncle compelling him. He slipped into a pair of pants and quietly left his room.

It was his responsibility to care for and protect her in this unfamiliar place, in the absence of their family. Moving with cautious steps, Gwayne approached her door. Normally, he would have knocked, but in his haste and concern, he bypassed this customary courtesy. He gently pushed the door open, making as little noise as possible.

What Gwayne had come face to face with made him freeze, his entire body tensing up as he looked to the figure of you, the princess, feverously humping a pillow. Your shoulder exposed and hard nipples showing through the sheer of the night gown. Your eyes were still closed as your hips rocked against the pillow. Eyebrows pushed together as soft cries left your lips. Gwayne was more than aware that he should not be there, that he should not be witnessing this, and yet he could not tear his eyes away.

Then you said it, "Gwayne." His name left your lips like a melody and it took one hush of his name to make him impossibly hard. To the point in stung and bulged from his trousers. It was then your eyes fluttered open, and in a few blinks they widened realizing that your uncle stood in the doorway. In a panic your hands grasped the pillow and brought it up to cover yourself.

"Oh, Gods. Princess, I'm -I'm sorry -" Gwayne barely managed to gush an apology as he had went fleeing the room, closing the door behind him as he went rushing back to his room. In the midst of his embarrassment he had been sweating, his heart racing as he stayed in the confides of his room.

He was still hard. Gwayne tried not to think about you. He tried not to think about how you cried as you humped your pillow or how sweetly you spoke his name but he could not.

Gwayne would wrestle with himself for nearly an hour, but at the agony of his own groin he could not contain himself. Gwayne would still be standing as he pulled his pants down, freeing his length as he took it in one hand.

This was wrong, this was so wrong.

And still, he began to pump himself to the thought of you pleasing yourself with a pillow.

I shouldn't be doing this.

He wondered how it would feel to be between your soft thighs, to have you be humping him.

He was almost there.

To have you scream his name instead of whisper it.

Gwayne would soon spill his seed onto the ground as his hand feverishly pumped himself to the thought of you. Gwayne would attempt to find sleep that night but had been unable to do so.

When the next day dawned, you anticipated a conversation with your uncle about the events of the previous night. However, it soon became apparent that Gwayne was actively avoiding you. He didn't join you for breakfast or supper, and your cousin took it upon themselves to entertain you with a tour of Old Town, while another cousin kept you occupied with needlepoint throughout the day. Despite your efforts, the entire day passed without a glimpse of him.

Returning to your chambers in the evening, a growing discomfort settled within you. You couldn't shake the feeling that Gwayne's absence was deliberate. Did he feel embarrassed for having found you in distress? Was he ashamed of you? These thoughts churned in your mind as you lay on your bed, staring up at the canopy for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, unable to endure the uncertainty any longer, you threw off the blankets and stormed out of your chambers. Determined, you strode purposefully to his door, bypassing the courtesy of knocking—after all, he hadn't extended the same courtesy to you last night. You entered his chambers with your face flushed with agitation.

Inside, Gwayne was not asleep. He sat up in bed, bare-chested with the blankets draped over his hips, revealing that he wore nothing underneath either.

"Princess, what are you doing?" Gwayne asked abruptly, his gaze flickering to the sheerness of your nightgown, which left little to the imagination. It was evident that your attire was not quite appropriate for a princess, but after what Gwayne had witnessed the previous night, your choice of clothing was the least of your concerns.

"You walked in on me last night and now you avoid me all day?" you questioned boldly, lifting your chin as you approached his bedside. Gwayne's hands tightened on the blanket, his discomfort palpable as you drew nearer.

"You should go," he insisted, attempting to avert his eyes from you.

"Why?" You questioned sharply as he approached. "Are you ashamed of me now?"

Gwayne shook his head, you had not yet noticed, and he had hoped you hadn't as he looked away.

"It's not that." he insisted quietly.

Your eyes looked down the look of anger seeming to melt from your face as your eyes noticed the bulge beneath the blankets. He was hard, trying to hide it, but failing to do so.

"Please leave." He was begging with all restraint he had. Gwayne could not even look you in the eye as he kept the blankets around him.

You stood there for a moment unsure how to approach but desire beginning to burn between your legs as you looked to him.

"Do you desire me, uncle?" You questioned moving closer to him as a hand gently touched his thigh grabbing a handful of the sheets he was using to cover himself.

"It is wrong- I should not." He said, answering your question without actually answering your question. It was enough for you, his grip tightening to hold the sheets in place as you carefully slid one leg up on the bed, allowing it to rest on one side of him. Gwayne showed restraint, but only little.

"Who says?" you questioned, eyes staring into his as he finally had enough gull to look at you.

"The Gods." he declared. "Common law-" he tried to say with some reason, the one thread of restraint still holding on within him.

"Fuck the Gods," You declared as your hand gave a gentle pull at the sheets. "Fuck Common Law-" He continued to hold on as you pulled. "And fuck me." you said nearly pleading.

Gwayne held the blankets for a moment longer as his eyes looked to you. "You are a maiden, are you not?" He questioned unsure in this moment based on your behavior.

"I am." you declared honestly as you looked to him.

"I can not deflower my own niece." He said allowing a moment of pride to shield him.

"I do not want my first time to be with some lord that I am married off to as a bargaining chip." You insisted nearly pleading. "I desire you, uncle and you desire me." You declared, his grip on the sheet loosening.

Gwayne battled with himself for a moment, but only for a moment, for his strong hands would reach for your face, pulling you gently to meet his lips. Your body pulled onto him as your lips met his. Gwayne kissed your lips with the hunger of a starved man, his hands moved to your night gown and pulled it up, parting his lips to discard it from your body leaving you exposed to him.

He wasted little time in pushing you down onto the mattress, allowing himself to rest above you. In the moon light he took in your bare figure, soon peppering kisses between the valley of your breast and down your body to your cunt. His lips would kiss down to your bud before he grabbed onto your hips. Pulling your thighs to rest on his shoulders as his face pushed into your cunt in a way a pillow never could. It was by this that you were already squirming, back arching at his touch.

Gwayne would not hesitate to allow his tongue to lay flat against your flushed sensitive bud, your hips pushing down slightly as he tried to keep you in place with his grip. Gwayne would lick slowly, tasting your virgin cunt as if it was a delicacy, something he was determine to savor.

Soft moans left your lips as his tongue continued to work against your dripping cunt. Gwayne was carefully when he inserted a finger inside of you. He did not dare to put more than one for with just one finger he could feel how incredibly tight you were. a realization that caused his cock to ache.

Gwayne would slowly pump his finger in and out of you as you moaned loudly, your hands becoming entangled in his long locks, and your thighs pushing shut against him. Gwayne wanted to question you, to ask how you were so sensitive, why you tasted so sweet- but he could not bring himself to remove his tongue if the king himself demanded it.

There would be a hot coil inside of you that would form, growing tighter, as your wet cunt clenched around his finger, and within a moment the coil snapped. A warm orgasm flushing over you as your thighs squeezed his head without mercy, soft tears fell from your eyes as you came down from your high. You were panting as your thighs loosened, Gwayne would pull his finger from you before sticking it in his mouth to suck in clean of your sweet juices.

The two of you locked eyes as you stared at one another for a moment. His hard cock pushed against the inside of your thigh as he debated if he should go through with this.

"We shouldn't." Gwayne gave a small fight once more for the sake of his honor and your own.

"Who would know?" You offered a simple excuse, hoping he would not declare the gods again.

"Who would know . . ." he repeated before he nodded. "You're right. Who would know." Gwayne reasoned as he grabbed his cock as he had carefully begun to move it against the wet folds of your cunt.

"You could drink moon tea after." he suggested again as you nodded in response.

"You're sure?" he asked again his blue eyes looking to you with tender concern but also the last bit of restraint he had in him.

"I am." You said as you pushed yourself down on him slightly causing him to groan.

Gwayne could wait no longer and therefore he lined himself up at your entrance and gently he begun to penetrate you, sliding into your wet cunt slowly.

Your back arched at the feeling of him filling you, he stilled, with only part of himself in you.

"More." You whined out in a demand as you waited for him to fill you completely.

"Patient, princess. Please- I do not wish to be spent so soon." Gwayne insisted, he had slowly begun to push into you. Your legs would soon tighten around his waist, forcing him to put the rest of himself in. A moan came from the both of you as he would soon begin to move slowly.

"Gods, you're so tight." He groaned as he slowly thrusted in and out of you at a slow rate, doing his best not to spill himself inside of you this early.

Gwayne would allow his thumb to return to your swollen bulb, rubbing it softly as he continued to fuck you at a slow and passionate rate. Despite the slow thrust he pushed deep into your warm velvet walls each time, enjoying the feeling of you squeezing his entire length.

Gwayne would continue at this slow rate as you cried out, soon lewd sounds of your wetness would fill the room mixed with your moans.

"I want to be on top." You pleaded, his hips stilled with hesitation. "Please." you begged.

Gwayne hesitated, but even he could not resist. He pulled out of you slowly before allowing his body to fall onto the bed. You wasted no time climbing on top of him and taking his length in your hand. Carefully you lowered your hips onto him.

"Fuck." Gwayne would groan at the sight of you above him. The vision of a Targaryen princess nude above him, as your hips begun to feverishly bounce on his cock. It took everything in him to not spill himself in you at this very moment.

"Princess, please." He pleaded his hands grabbing on your waist to try and slow you down but it was no use, you used him. Moving your hips quickly as you looked to him.

"Hold on, uncle. I'm almost there." You would insisted in a moan as you continued, the feeling of him throbbing inside of you as you fucked yourself on him was enough to let out a cry of pleasure.

"Please get off . . . "He begged, "I shouldn't . . . not inside of you." He insisted more as he tried to steady your hips, though as you moved he relented.

Gwayne could not hold himself back any longer, his fingers dug into your flesh as he came deep inside you. You continued as he filled you with his warm seed. Allowing yourself to fuck every last drop inside of you, peeking your own orgasm that caused Gwayne to grit his teeth. You would roll your hips over him, riding out your high before falling helplessly on the bed next to him. His seed spilling onto your plush thighs.

Gwayne panted as he had looked over to you with soft affection. "I'll have the maester make you moon tea in the morning." he insisted as you looked over to him with a small smile.

"Perhaps if you seed me with your child mother would be forced to marry me to you." You offered looking to him next to you in the bed.

"Or she would have my head." he offered back.

When morning came you were nearly limping as you joined Daeron at the breakfast table, he seemed somewhat restless as he picked at the eggs on his plate.

"There you are." He declared looking to you with dark shadows surrounding his eyes.

"You look like shit." You declared to him with no one else around, he looked to you with somewhat of a resenting look.

"Yeah, well if you're going to fuck our uncle again could you at least keep it down." Daeron declared.

You froze at his comment, you were going to muster up some kind of denial but Daeron spoke again.

"My chambers are on the other side of Uncle Gwaynes." He informed you.

[visenyaism]

top ten clinically depressed asoiafers

I don’t think anyone ever wrote out the Westerosi DSM but I’ll take a crack at it.

Honorable Mention- Mance Raider and Qhorin Halfhand. We don’t get enough to make a full conclusion because it’s not important to Jon’s story so this is just a vibe but I feel it strongly.

10. Rhaena the Lesbian- like one of two actually great fire and blood characters. Convalescing in Harrenhal for like a decade after her wife left her and her third husband killed all her girlfriends plus she was one dead kid and one dead mother down. Kind of epic. Should have survived long enough to be weird and bitter to Jaehaerys’ insane children.

9. Daemon Targaryen- hey speaking of killing yourself in Harrenhal. Him never being happy with what he had or knowing what he wanted beyond getting his big brother to be proud of him so he just had to constantly chase dopamine in the form of insane levels of violence grooming teenagers and getting his cop frat brother employees to like him for money. Chemical imbalance with a body count in the thousands for his last midlife crisis wife leaving teenager grooming riverlands murder suicide bender alone.

8. Rhaegar Targaryen- Hey speaking of making your clinical depression everyone else’s problem at Harrenhal leading to the death of thousands. Why do people keep letting them do this is the question. Could estrogen have saved her is the second realer question

7. Lysa Arryn. Free her.

6. Daeron the Drunken- what if you were HAUNTED by PROPHETIC DREAMS that were only BAD and spelled the death and doom of your ENTIRE FAMILY and you COULDNT ESCAPE THEM except through SUBSTANCES and you were also the HEIR and your DAD was so DISAPPOINTED IN YOU and you had to take your RUDE and disrespectful plucky BABY KING ARTHUR brother to the CIRCUS and he was TEN and BALD and picked up by the hedge knight you DREAMED OF because he is going to INSTIGATE TO THE ETERNAL MISERY OF YOUR FAMILY a little bit on accident because you are DRUNK. NO HOPE. also honorable mention to post-fratricide Maekar who just locks himself in summerhall for years and post-treason court hostage Daemon II Blackfyre. I hope he and Daeron got brunch.

5. Ned Stark- classic flavor original variant Father Depression. Things went wrong for him young that he will never explain to anyone ever and they form a veil that serves as a barrier between him and the world and everyone he loves. Poor Ned.

4. Stannis Baratheon. Never let himself enjoy anything ever. Melancholy from birth. Rude and extremely blunt with everyone. Smiles twice both at Davos. Anorexic. Bald. Who among us has not been there.

3. Alannys Harlaw Greyjoy- finding out that Theon and Asha have an alive mom who is a gothic horror attic wife who never recovered from the loss of her family to the point that she’s still asking when all her dead and missing sons are going to come home to her and then Theon comes home and does not visit her. Actually agonizing for me the reader

2. Jon Connington- I’m about to get real sincere with these last two because Dance was a really good book that hit at a pivotal time for me. Everything he is in the world to do is motivated by this deep and profound grief and repression that simultaneously makes him a worse person (hungry to commit war crimes) and his best self (dives into the river to save Tyrion contracting greyscale in the process, being as loving and supportive of a father to Young Griff as anyone really could possibly be in this series.) The fact that he is such a late-game addition but feels like a missing piece as a character because of the emotional weight he carries is really cool. I love all his chapters. Tried to grasp a star overreached and fell is so powerful.

1. Tyrion Lannister- I adore his dance with dragons chapters where after his big moment of patriarchal catharsis he is suicidal and misanthropic and an alcoholic and hurting himself and others. It is really compelling because sometimes people get worse. And yet this is interspersed with moments where he is confronted with real genuine danger or real genuine joy and he consistently chooses to be kind to others for no material gain. Like comforting Penny during the storm or tackling a Stone Man into the Rhoyne to to save Young Griff’s life. Arguably these moments do not outweigh all of the harm he is actively inflicting, but they do show that he is incorrect about his self concept that he’s a monster and is actually just a deeply hurt person who has been traumatized so profoundly and is struggling as a result of it.

[maidragoste]

can we get some headcanons for mister daeron, since he finally was mention on the last episode ✊🏻

Hi anon, thank you very much for your request! I really wanted to write to Daeron 🤭

btw, there is a headcanon that has smut but it is not very detailed, I still warn you that it is number 4 in case you want to skip it 👀

I really hope you enjoy what I wrote 💖 and if you ever come back to my inbox if you want you can choose an emoji so I can identify you ☺️

Now I wish you a good read!

•Daeron who is not interested in marriage but does his duty and marries you because he knows that having an alliance with your house is important to the greens.

•Daeron, despite not being enthusiastic about a hasty wedding with war looming, is enthralled when he sees you in your wedding dress.

•Daeron who recites his wedding vows while looking into your eyes and intends to be a better husband than Viserys was to his mother even if the two of you are only together for a short time.

•Daeron who on your wedding night is patient and sweet with you. He takes his time so that your first time isn't so painful. First, he distracts you by kissing you over and over again. Then he surprises you not by fucking you directly but by pleasuring you with his mouth, making you cum again and again with his tongue until you forget about your nerves. And when the time comes for him to go inside you, he intertwines his hand with yours. He waits for you to assure him that you're fine before he starts moving and it doesn't take long for the room to fill with your moans again as you feel his cock find your sweet spot.

•Daeron who you manage to impress when you meet Tessarion for the first time and don't show even the slightest bit of fear.

•Daeron having to stop himself from kissing you during their first fight because he's touched that you want to accompany him during the war instead of going back to your house.

“I can be useful. I am sure that the maester will value my help when he cannot afford so many wounded. I also know how to sew and...

“It's not about whether you're useful or not. It's about the fact that it's dangerous and I don't want you to end up hurt," he interrupted you with obvious frustration because you continued to insist on the topic of accompanying him during his war camp.

“I am your wife and my place is at your side!” you say stubbornly.

“And my duty as your husband is to protect you, not put you in danger!”

•In the end you end up joining the camp but it was not because Daeron wanted to but because the news of Jaehaerys' murder arrives and his uncle Ormund and your father think that Daeron and you need to have a child as soon as possible in case Aegon loses his other heir.

•That same night Daeron lets you see him vulnerable while he crying the death of his nephew hugging your hip. You accompany him in his grief and try to comfort him as best as possible while you hug him.

•Daeron was always protective of his family and now that you are part of it he will not allow anyone to disrespect you. A lord once mocked you for voicing your opinion during the war council and you and Ormund had to intervene so that Daeron doesn't end up doing the lord major harm.

•Daeron only relaxes once the two of you are alone in his tent. He lets you take off his armor and feels a moment of peace as you massage his shoulders and kiss his back.

•Daeron who prays that the war ends soon so that he can reunite with his family soon and above all because he wants to have a quiet life with you. Every night he asks the gods to protect you and not let anything bad happen to you.

•Daeron who, before going to fight, asks you to give him your favor and the two say goodbye with a kiss, earning mockery from Lyonel.

•Daeron who returns victorious from his first battle and feels his heart race as he watches you run towards him with a smile and he smiles when you scream in surprise when he lifts you into the air before kissing you fiercely, forgetting about the exhibitions and allowing himself to feel hopeful for the future.

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@cosmitton @momoko-world @descon0cidacl @fadingbatmuffindonkey @bryandechartisasmolbean

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hotd masterlist

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Spoil of War

dark!aegon x niece!reader

summary: aegon enjoys his time with his prisoner of war

A/N: my bad y'all, it took me forever to get this up

TW: MAJOR DUBCON, smut!!, bondage, incest, violence, kidnapping, degradation, body worship perhaps

word count: 2,245 words

You sit in your childhood bedroom, stewing with your thoughts. It was all so quick, the battle with Daeron, the demise of your dragon. You should be grateful; she spent her last moments cushioning your fall so you wouldn’t die on impact, but you can’t help thinking that you would be better off dead. There’s hardly anything worse than being a prisoner of war, except being Aegon’s prisoner of war.

Speak of the Devil, Aegon has the guards open your chamber doors and the smug bastard strolls in. “Ah, my sweet niece. I finally have the chance to lay my eyes on you.” He regards your nightgown with great interest. You haven’t had a chance to dress yourself for the day yet. “You’ve been quite the subject of controversy as of late.” He says with a light smirk.

“Which part is controversial, the fact that you’re keeping me prisoner, usurper?” You say back to him with spite.

“Oh, don’t be so melodramatic. It’s a temporary situation.” He says, unconcerned as he walks over to your dining table of untouched food and picks up an apple, taking a bite of it. “Once your mother bends the knee, i’ll return you to her. It’s as easy as that.”

“Or they’ll take control of King’s Landing and Daemon will slaughter you where you stand.” You’ve never heard your voice filled with such hate before as when you speak now.

“Come on, the threats are hardly necessary. You are safe with us - for the time being.” He makes a stupid joking cringe face at the second part of his sentence. “You could do with being more amicable.”

“Amicable? I’m your fucking prisoner and if her Grace the Queen doesn’t bend the knee to your spoiled, traitorus ass, you’ll execute me.”

“War doesn’t often give you many options. And you, my dear niece, are a very valuable bargaining chip.” As he speaks, you know he takes the utmost pleasure in you being in his control. You want to wipe the smug grin off his face.

You reach for the piece of glass you had hidden, ever so slowly. You feel your hand clutch it and your gaze is filled with rage as you launch yourself at him. “You traitor!” You aim for his throat with the sharp point but he catches your arm. The broken glass barely grazes him, leaving only the thinnest line of blood as proof of your attack. He twists your arm and the piece of glass clatters to the floor. Your uncle releases you only so he can backhand you so hard that you fall to the floor.

“Gods, you’re a feisty little thing, aren’t you?” He wipes the drip of the blood off his neck. “Clever girl, going for the throat.” He laughs at you. You just tried to kill him and he laughs at you.

You glare up at him, your face distraught and full of vengeance. You quickly reach for the glass that you had dropped but as soon as you manage to grip it again, Aegon kicks you in the stomach. You curl into yourself, whimpering.

“Okay that’s enough of that. Guards!” The guards immediately enter the room, ready to defend their king. “Restrain her. Use… rope.” He has a certain look on his face as he says the last word, seemingly pleased with himself as he struts out of the room.

You’re left on your knees, by the fireplace for an hour until Aegon returns. Your hands behind your back, the bindings keeping you in place. There is, what you consider to be, an unnecessary amount of rope tied around your body that is seemingly for decoration, for your uncle’s pleasure.

“Are you calm now?” He asks as he strides back into your chamber with arrogance. “I wasn’t sure what the cool down time was for Strong bastards.” His stare is hungry as he looks upon you. “What a pleasant sight, my combative niece tied up at my feet.” He almost mumbles the last part.

“I will be calm when I watch your body burn.” There is heat in your words, your threats.

“That is a lot of big talk for a girl who is kneeling for her king. You’re much more desirable like this… when you’re helpless beneath my gaze.” His fingertips graze under your chin, tilting it up so you have to look at him. You jerk your head away.

“Don’t touch me!” You spit at his feet.

“Silly to say such things when you’re at my mercy.” He kneels down to look at you better, his fingers run along your soft hair. “I’ve never been more tempted. And i’ve been tempted many, many times.” He leans in to whisper in your ear. “I had forgotten how divine you are.”

You know where he’s going with this, what he wants. His finger trails down your nightgown, to your breast, giving it a light squeeze. “You’ll burn in the Seven Hells for this!” You say as you fight against your restraints.

He ignores your words. “If I were a more brazen man, i’d ravish you right here and now… oh wait.” He chuckles at his own joke.

The fire burns bright behind you and his dagger gleams in the warm light as he unsheathes it. He cuts one of the cap sleeves of your nightgown. “You have no right.” Your eyes flare bolder than dragonflame as you speak.

“Oh, my lovely sweet niece, I absolutely have the right because you are under my protection. If I want to rip that nightgown off and ravage you, who’s going to stop me?” He says sadistically… lustfully as he cuts the other cap of your gown.

“It’s not a proper way to treat an important bargaining chip.” You say softly. To be truthful, younger you would be preening at the chance to be so close to Aegon. Up until now, you had thought that part of you had died with Luke. Now, he’s so close, so... alluring.

“It’s not, but when have I ever been known to behave properly?” He then cuts your nightgown off of you, down the middle and as swiftly as he can without cutting through your bonds, leaving you naked other than the smallclothes that barely cover your lower half.

His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you almost completely naked. His hand falls to your thigh, rubbing the smooth soft skin. “You’ve always had such a lovely figure, niece.”

You flinch and squirm some more. And then you begin to scream bloody murder. Aegon winces before grabbing part of your torn nightgown and shoving it in your mouth. “Such a noisy girl. Now, that’s better. You shouldn’t scream so much. I only intend to show you a good time. I promise you’ll love it.”  He smirks again. “Well… i’ll love it.”

His other hand trails up your navel, to your breast, giving it another squeeze. He then pushes you back on the flocculent carpet and what a sight you make with your hair splayed around you and your pretty mouth gagged. The pillows are strewn about you, in place so you can sit as close to the crackling fire as you wish. Now, it has become the perfect scene for Aegon to take you. He looks at you as if you are the maiden herself, descended from the heavens to be gifted to him. To him, your fairness outmatches Psyche… it outmatches Aphrodite. 

“You don’t know how long I have waited for this, princess.” He then rips your remaining small clothes off, leaving you completely nude. His eyes just rake over you for a moment before he speaks.  “Ah, a sight I could get used to.” He leans down to kiss your breast, focusing on your nipple, focusing on making you feel good? He litters little marks all over before moving to the other and giving it the same attention. He then begins to methodically kiss down your chest, to your tummy, past your navel. You know what he intends his final destination to be. You keep your legs clamped firmly shut, not fully because you want him to stop, and partly because of the wetness that lies between your thighs.

“Hm, a little shy, are we? How sweet…” It isn’t difficult for him to pry your legs open and he grins at the sight of you dripping for him. “Naughty little girl, all wet for her uncle.” 

You turn your heat to the side so you don’t have to make eye contact with him. He grabs your chin and turns your head back. “No. You will watch as I fuck you with my tongue.” You try not to groan as he licks up between your legs, his eyes on yours as his pupils blow wide. He kisses, licks and nips at you, taking you to places in pleasure you’ve never been before. When his tongue pierces your entrance, you can’t stop the whimper that falls from your lips. You hope the gag muted the sound enough that he wouldn’t hear, but your hopes are dashed when he lifts his head.

“I think I want to hear all the pretty little sounds that you make. No more screaming though. Unless, they’re screams of gratification.” He pulls the torn cloth from your mouth but you keep your lips stubbornly sealed. He shakes his head and chuckles before he is between your thighs again. The man eats you like you’re his last meal but you don’t let a single sound out, much to his displeasure even if he can tell that you don’t do it with ease. 

“Why must you be so difficult?” He asks exasperatedly.

“I want you dead.” He rolls his eyes at the statement. “Perhaps you aren’t as good at pleasuring women as you believe.” That pisses him off.

“You’re such a little liar.” He flips you over so your ass is in the air and your chest and face are squished into a cushion, your hands unable to hold you up due to their bindings. “Perhaps I need to fuck that bratty behaviour out of you.” He says and you hear the rustling of clothes behind you. You know he’s undressing and you know there’s no way you can stop him from taking you now, not with how you have pissed him off, not with how your cunt is so deliciously presented to him. But it won’t stop you from trying.

“Aegon don’t you dare.” You say with all the confidence you can muster. You don’t fear your maidenhood being taken, you fear the possibility of a bastard being put in your belly.

“Don’t you ever presume to tell me what I can and cannot do, wench.” With that, he shoves himself inside of you, all the way to the hilt. You let out a strangled moan and he laughs. “No keeping your sounds to yourself now.” He then begins to piston himself into you, the head of him brushing your cervix with each thrust. You feel so full every time his hips meet yours. “Gods i’ve never felt a cunt so tight and wet.” His hands grip your hips roughly so he can bring them back with each thrust, making it feel like he’s hitting deeper inside of you. 

“Aegon…” You whine out and squeeze a little around him.

“You like it, don’t you? You like it when your uncle fucks you. I’ve taken you as a prisoner and now you’re moaning in pleasure as I use you. What would your brothers think, what would your mother think, if they saw you taking my cock so well?”

You just whine his name again in response, your head too cloudy to give him an answer.

“I want you to say it. Say how much you love having me inside you.” He fucks into you so deeply that all you want to do is obey.

“I l-ove it, uncle. I love it when you fuck me.” You whimper out again as he stretches you so perfectly.

“That’s what I fucking thought.” His finger comes between your legs to rub your clit and you almost scream. “God, you’re such a little cockslut. Am I your first, little niece?”

“Y-Yes…” You say softly and he grins.

“I thought so. Nobody gets so worked up like a maiden.” He rubs you harder, so fast that you see stars. You begin to squirm a little as your walls begin to squeeze around his thick cock.

He grasps your hair at the roots and pulls your head back so you have to look him in the eye. “That’s right, cum around my cock, baby. Do it.” You fully reach your peak with his command. He watches your face contort with pleasure as you finish around his cock, drawing out his own orgasm. He gives a few more hard thrusts before spilling his seed in you. “Good girl.”

You wince as he pulls out, feeling empty now. He easily manoeuvres you back to your knees and stands up with you at his feet. He tilts your chin up so you have to look him in the eye again.

“I’ll be visiting you much more often now. You don’t have the kind of cunt a man can handle only fucking once.” His thumb strokes your cheek. For the depravity he speaks, his voice is surprisingly soft

“I hate you.”

He smiles gently. “Hate me all you want. I can take it.”

taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey

[rottenfyre]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃: 𝘓𝘢𝘥𝘺 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘯, 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯.

The Red Keep was alive with the sounds of children at play. Laughter echoed through the corridors, and the warm afternoon sun streamed through the windows, casting a golden glow over the stone floors. In one of the keep’s quieter corners, you sat in the nursery, surrounded by your beloved children.

Aegon and Aemond were playfully sparring with wooden swords, their faces lit with excitement as they practiced the moves Ser Criston had shown them. Helaena, ever the gentle soul, sat by the window, enraptured by a butterfly that had fluttered in and settled on her hand. And then there was Daeron, the youngest of the brood, who was currently cradled in your lap.

At just over a year old, Daeron was the apple of your eye—a sweet, cherubic child with a smile that could melt even the hardest of hearts. His bright violet eyes, so much like his father’s, sparkled with curiosity as he reached up to grasp at a lock of your golden hair. You laughed softly, letting him tug at it gently.

“You’re getting so big, little one,” you murmured, brushing your fingers over his soft, silver hair. “Soon you’ll be chasing after your brothers and sister.”

Daeron cooed in response, his tiny hand gripping your finger with surprising strength. You smiled down at him, your heart swelling with love. He was the last of your brood, the youngest of the children you had come to adore with every fiber of your being. You had loved him from the moment you first held him in your arms, and that love only grew stronger with each passing day.

You were softly humming a lullaby to him, your voice soothing and sweet, when you heard a sound that made your heart skip a beat.

“Ma…”

You froze, your breath catching in your throat. Had you imagined it? You looked down at Daeron, who was staring up at you with wide, innocent eyes, his mouth slightly open as though he was about to speak again.

“Daeron?” you whispered, your voice trembling with anticipation. “Did you say something, sweetling?”

“Ma… Ma…” Daeron repeated, his little voice clear and earnest.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop. Tears welled up in your eyes, your heart overflowing with joy and love so intense it nearly overwhelmed you. Daeron’s first word—his very first word—was “Ma.” He had chosen you, called for you, recognized you as his mother.

The tears spilled over, and you clutched him to your chest, pressing kisses to his soft hair as the emotions you had held in check finally broke free. “Oh, Daeron, my sweet boy,” you whispered through your tears.

Your voice was thick with emotion, and you couldn’t stop the tears from falling. They weren’t tears of sadness, but of pure, unadulterated happiness. You had always known you were their mother in every way that mattered, but hearing it from Daeron’s own lips made it all the more real, all the more profound.

Across the room, Aegon and Aemond paused in their play, their wooden swords lowered as they noticed your tears. Aegon, always the more straightforward of the two, frowned in confusion. “Mother?” he called out hesitantly. “Why are you crying?”

Aemond, though younger, shared his brother’s concern. His sharp eyes, always so perceptive, were wide with worry as he watched you. “Is something wrong, Mother?” he asked, his small voice tinged with fear. The sight of your tears had shaken them, their protective instincts kicking in.

But before you could respond, Helaena spoke up from her spot by the window, her soft voice carrying a certainty that belied her years. She hadn’t taken her eyes off the butterfly, but she seemed completely aware of what had just transpired. “Don’t worry, she’s not sad,” Helaena said, her tone as gentle and serene as ever. “She’s just happy.”

Aegon and Aemond exchanged confused looks, but they trusted Helaena’s judgment. If she said Mother was happy, then it must be true. They relaxed, though they kept a close eye on you, just in case.

You managed to compose yourself enough to smile at your sons, though the tears continued to stream down your cheeks. “Helaena is right,” you said, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m just so very happy.”

You shifted Daeron slightly so you could look at all your children, your heart bursting with love for them. “Your brother,” you explained, your eyes shining with joy, “just said his first word.”

Aegon’s face lit up with a grin. “What did he say?”

“He said ‘Ma,’” you replied, your voice soft with wonder. “He called me ‘Ma.’”

Aemond’s eyes widened in awe, and even Aegon, who often tried to appear more mature than his years, couldn’t hide his excitement. “He did? That’s wonderful, Mother!”

Helaena, who had finally let the butterfly go, turned to you with a smile of her own. “He knows you love him,” she said simply, her words filled with a quiet wisdom that always amazed you. “That’s why he said it.”

You felt a fresh wave of tears threaten to spill over, but this time, you laughed through them, a sound full of joy and contentment. “Yes,” you agreed, looking down at Daeron, who was now gurgling happily in your arms. “I love all of you so very much.”

You reached out to Aegon and Aemond, pulling them into a tight embrace, and Helaena quickly joined them, her small arms wrapping around your waist. They stayed like that for a while, a tangle of limbs and love, a mother and her children finding comfort and joy in each other.

Part 2 ♡ Part 3 ♡ Part 4 ♡ Part 5 ♡ Part 6

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Viserys I Targaryen w/Second Wife!Reader Headcanons (Romantic)

❝ 🐉 — lady l: Happy New Year!!! First headcanons of the year and I hope you like it. I hope you have a great year, good things come to you and good reading! Forgive me for any mistakes ❤️✨️.

❝tw: unspecified age gap, overprotection, not compatible with canon and Reader is the mother of Aegon, Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

❝🐉pairing: yandere!viserys i targaryen x female!reader.

Viserys never wanted to remarry after the death of his beloved Aemma. The idea of ​​replacing her with another woman made him sick. He didn't want to get married again, but he was the King and he had his obligations to the Realm. To have a strong bloodline and strengthen the House Targaryen.

Although he didn't like the idea, Viserys after a period of time began looking for a potential bride. He received several powerful offers, such as the Velaryon and the Hightower, but he did not feel comfortable marrying Lady Laena or Lady Alicent.

So he kept looking and that's how he met you. An attractive young woman, but older than the last ones, and from a house powerful enough to provide strength to the Realm. Viserys was immediately attracted to you and knew he wanted to marry you.

The preparations were made quickly and well, Viserys was excited to be able to call you his wife, but in the days before the wedding, he spent time by your side, getting to know you better.

With that, Viserys found out as much as he could about you, about your childhood, your family, and your likes and dislikes. He was more than pleased, especially seeing that you were as interested in history as he was.

Rhaenyra also liked you, although she was apprehensive about the idea of ​​a stepmother, about the possibility of you providing a male heir, she liked you. You were kind to her and assured her that even if you have a son, you will not try to replace her on the Throne.

When you became the second wife of Viserys, the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, he was already in love. Much faster than he would like to admit, Viserys was already in your domain and became yours even sooner than anticipated. At first, he felt guilty, guilty that he might be betraying Aemma's memory, but quickly, those thoughts went away. Aemma was dead and you were alive.

Viserys was more than happy to see that you and his daughter were getting along, it made him feel relieved inside. He couldn't wait to have children with you, to grow his family. When he learned of your first pregnancy, Viserys almost cried with happiness, but there was concern. What if you died during childbirth? He couldn't take another loss, couldn't lose you.

You were very much in love with each other, you had learned to love your husband and he was deeply in love with you. Your mannerisms, your personality, everything enchanted him. Your favorite moments together were when you talked about history, whether it was your House or House Targaryen. Viserys cherished every moment, every smile and look shared.

When you gave birth to a healthy son, Aegon, Viserys was very happy, not only because he had a son, but because you were alive and the birth was peaceful. The next pregnancies were no different, with Helaena, Daeron and Aemond.

You assured him, assure Rhaenyra, that you would not let Aegon usurp or anything like that happen when it was time for Rhaenyra to take the Throne. You adored your stepdaughter and she adored you too, seeing you as a second mother. Viserys would never admit it, but if you asked, he would name Aegon his heir if that was your wish. This shows how much he is in love with you.

You tried your best to fulfill your duties as Queen, mother and wife as best you could, discouraging any possible rivalry the children might have and reassuring your support for Viserys and your stepdaughter. Your main priority was to avoid a war. You presided over the Small Council, advising your husband as best you could.

You hold all power over Viserys, it soon became clear to everyone who really ruled the Seven Kingdoms. You could ask for anything, from the most insignificant to the most absurd thing, and Viserys would fulfill it instantly.

He is extremely overprotective, Viserys fears losing you more than anything and every time you have an entire armada comes out after you. When you are sick, he sends the best maesters to take care of you and will not leave your side until you get better.

If something were to happen to you or one of your children, may the gods be good. Viserys tries his best to avoid war and resolve any conflict with diplomacy, but all that changes when it comes to you. Any insult to you is like an insult to him and any way of hurting you will not be taken lightly.

No matter how peaceful he is, no matter how calm and rational, Viserys is still a Targaryen, a dragon and you should never mess with one of them if they don't want to get burn. Not only will you have your overprotective husband by your side, but also your children who love you deeply and will do anything for you.

You are not Aemma's replacement and Viserys doesn't think so. He thinks of you as yourself and loves you for it. He will always love Aemma, but he loves you in a different way. A more overprotective and possessive way. He can't lose you and he won't.

[undertheorangetree]

The Last of the Dragons

Chapter One- The Consummation

Summary- With the Targaryen dynasty at risk, the last of the family must make unsavory decisions in order to ensure their reign continues.

Warnings- MDNI 18+ NSFW. Female reader. Angst. Politicking. Consummation of marriage with witnesses. Mentions of death. Trauma. Uncomfortable smut.

Author's Note- This first chapter is not very sexy!! There is (consensual) smut but it is not hot nor is it meant to be. The sexy smut will happen later. With that said, the link to the full chapter is below :)

series masterlist

When the dust settles around the Dance of the Dragons, she is the only member of her family still alive.

Her mother burned by dragonfire, her step father cut down on dragonback. Jace and Luke lay dead at the bottom of the ocean alongside Aegon and Viserys while Joffrey lay scattered across the streets of Flea Bottom. It is a reality she does not like to face and though she still has Baela, Rhaena, and their grandfather, she knows she is the last of her family line. The last of Rhaenyra's blood, the blood of the true heir. 

It is that blood that damns her the moment Aegon is found poisoned, laying dead in his litter.

She had been spared alongside Baela and Rhaena, though she knew that was more so Corlys's idea than anyone else's. Aegon had demanded her head the moment he learned that it was she and Silverwing who had been responsible for Daeron's death but Corlys had managed to talk him down to simply keeping her as a hostage. He had argued that by having her bend the knee, it would show her mother's loyalists that he was the true king above all others, that her fealty had the power to stop Cregan Stark's march south and would calm tensions in the Riverlands and Eyrie. Aegon had agreed, though only after Alicent had prompted him to, and she had been spared from the executioner's block. Though as she sits at the small council table, staring at her last living uncle, she wishes Aegon had found the kindness in his black heart to swing the axe.

The Battle Above the God's Eye had left Aemond with another scar, this one having ripped through the flesh of his left shoulder and bicep. She wishes it crippled him further, that Daemon's final act managed to cut his arm from its socket, gouge out his last remaining eye and send him plunging into the depth of the God's Eye but other than a deep new scar, her step father managed little. 

"Lord Corlys and I believe that it is important, especially now, to assure the smallfolk that this war is far behind us now. Aegon's death threatens the already fragile stability we have managed to find ourselves on," Alicent explains, though it is not directed at her. They had all been whisked away into the small council chambers less than a handful of hours after Aegon had been found dead and that grief is still present in Alicent. Her eyes are rimmed red- a common trait of hers now- and her voice is hoarse from crying, but she still manages to stay strong before the men gathered. She and Aemond had been ordered to sit in on the small council meeting but neither have been given leave to speak. They sit silently, waiting for the moment that deemed their appearance here necessary as Alicent turns to her grandfather. "Which is why we have come to a kind of agreement."

"We want the Iron Throne to remain in Targaryen hands just as fervently as all others here and with the death of our king so fresh, it is of the utmost importance that we find a suitable heir quickly. One that puts both the Blacks and the Greens at ease and prevents a continuation of the war," Corlys says, fingers pushing at the small ball that rests before him. 

When the two of them had the time to discuss a potential heir, she has no idea, but perhaps it is a blessing that they had. With Aegon and all his children dead, there are few options left for the throne. She knows in her heart that she is the legitimate heir, being the only one left who has Rhaenyra's blood running through her veins, but she is a woman. After all that has happened, only a fool would attempt to crown her. The same could be said for Baela and Rhaena, though their claims are not as strong as her own. That left Aemond, a man, but widely hated for all he had done throughout the war. 

They are damned regardless of who is chosen, the risk of further rebellion at every turn. She does not pity the remnants of this council for the choice they must make now. The realm rests on the shoulders of the six people left in this room and that is a burden she would not want to carry.

"And you have an idea as to who the most suitable heir would be, my lord?" Lord Larys asks. Though he sits at the table, he is not truly facing it, leaning on the cane in his hands. She turns her head to look at him, his eyes wide with his question, and feels her stomach turn at the mere sight of him, their master of whisperers. 

Corlys looks toward Alicent, waiting until she gives the faintest nod of her head before speaking again. "My granddaughter, the princess, is Rhaenyra's last surviving child. Aemond is the last surviving child of King Viserys and acted as Aegon's regent for more than half his reign. The dowager and I propose that we unite house Targaryen once and for all and have the two wed to serve the realm as king and queen, like the Old King and Good Queen Alysanne. Equal in power, so as to bring all this unrest to an end."

Read the rest here :)

Taglist- @ammo23 @bellstwd @kckt88 @aemondsbabygirl @shygardengalaxy @duds31 @at-a-rax-ia @ladymarg0t @queenofshinigamis @drakar-i @cl-0-vr @castellomargot @moonlightfoxx @ladybug0095 @marihoneywk

[missglaskin]

Yan!Great Bastards/Targs house (Platonic) HCS

Characters-Aegon IV, Naerys, Aemon (mention), Daeron II, Daenerys, Daemon Blackfyre, Shiera, Aegor, Brynden

Note; reader is adopted and female, mostly platonic but some relationships can be interpreted. The timeline is inaccurate/messy

Ever since Aegon brought you to court, many whispers assumed you must have been a bastard of his. Yet there was a lack of any sign that the blood of old Valyria coursed through your veins. It also didn't help that there were whispers claiming you already had a family of your own, adding to the uncertainty surrounding their fate. Still, even with doubt, the lord and ladies accept Aegon's claims.

Aegon has kept you close ever since you arrived at court. He has proven to be a man of envy, despising the thought of anyone else stealing your time and attention from him. Despite his best efforts to keep you to himself, Naerys and Aemon were still able to become quite involved in your life.

You quickly won the favor of Naerys, as she would spend alone time with you at any given chance. It's her who also gave you and Daeron and Daenerys the opportunity to finally meet. With Naerys, you can come to expect that she'll hand you clothes that she herself embroidered and sewed.

With you around, Aegon treats Naerys with a little more decency. Aegon is a man who seeks praise and validation, so noticing your frown and distant demeanor in the way he treats Naerys will hurt him just a little. Unbeknownst to you, it only deepens Daeron and Aemon's attachment to seeing you care for Naerys.

Aemon is the last person Aegon ever wants to see you bond with. There is considerable conflict between the brothers, whether it's believed to be over Naerys or the allegations regarding Daeron's legitimacy. The more Aemon spends his time with you, the more bitterly Aegon feels toward his brother.

Daeron, along with Aemon and Naerys, is possibly the most "normal" out of the family. He treats you with such tenderness and care—it's impossible not to warm up to him. Given that his father brought you to court and paraded you around, you initially assume that Daeron would harbor some resentment. But all Daeron's eyes convey is warmth.

Daeron and you are told to spend most of the day together whenever you could, either playing cyvasse, going for a walk in the gardens, or having dinner together. Aegon didn't give much thought if you chose to carry out your princess responsibilities, but Daeron and Naerys did. They had you be taught how to dance, courtesy, and embroidery while he wasn’t around. 

Aemon would always try to accompany you, either walking you to your chambers or through the gardens. He guards you with the same degree of vigilance that he does with Daeron and Naerys, stepping in to help if he notices you in distress. He also permits you to go horseback riding if you choose, as Aegon never lets you.

These are rare moments in between, as Aegon immediately steals you away to his usual spot by his side. As has been said, Aegon was a demanding man. He anticipates your unceasing praise, telling you of something "nice" he has done for Naerys or giving you a gift just to see you smile. It was best for you to pretend he's the favorite of the family.

When Daeron wed Myriah Martell, both of you grew quickly fond of each other. As expected, Aegon did not like the little friendship you developed. When the two soon introduced Baelor (Breakpear) to the court, they made you among the first to hold him. Daeron couldn’t help but smile as he watched you interact with his baby son. Little Baelor was often used as an excuse for Daeron and Myriah to take you away.

While you were very attached to Daeron, he was older (and very busy), so you spent your free time with (Aegon ofc), the ladies of the court and most of all with Daemon and Daenerys. Rumors occasionally circulated that you were spotted in the gardens, showing young Daenerys the lovely view of the flowers with Daemon watching you both from afar.

The tranquil realm Viserys ruled over quickly came to an end when he passed away. Aegon, the fourth of his name, soon sat the throne. The moment the crown was put the crown on his head, the dynamics of the family were entirely shifted. Aegon’s first act was to ensure you were legitimized before the whole court. Giving you the name Targaryen was probably the only time the family came together. 

If possible, Aegon’s treatment of his son and brother worsened. Any disputes he had with Aemon led to the king forbidding his brother from ever speaking to you. It wasn’t beneath him to threaten Daeron with the same thing as well.

As king, Aegon publicly had numerous mistresses. Who all knew to get on your good side as Aegon was persuaded by your opinion. It was told how much he liked a mistress by how much he allowed her to interact with you.  Falena Stokeworth, Jeyne Lothson, Bethany Bracken, and Sereni of Lys were among the familiar faces. You even bonded with their bastards, which one is compelled to believe is a jab at his son.

The court also knew to get on your side; after all, it wasn’t filled with noble or wise men, but those who flatter and amuse. It’s said that if one made you laugh, it was enough reason for Aegon to gift them land.

Aegon always showered you with gifts, but as king, he made sure you were the best dressed at court. From silks taken from Qarth to being showered with all sorts of jewelry—diamonds, gold, rubies, and pearls. And if you asked for it, he would gladly name hills, mountains, and even castles after you.

Aegon assumed that with all he had done for you, you would always be on his side. So one can imagine his fury when rumors of Naerys’s adultery and Daeron’s legitimacy were whispered among the court, and you took his wife and son’s side. Even more when you seemed to admire his brother for defending the queen’s honor.

It was a tragedy when Aemon’s life was taken when he stepped in between the king and his assassin. His death sent Naerys into grief. And while you were grieving for Aemon, you had to also grieve for Naerys as she soon followed him to her grave. Aegon pretended to comfort you, but secretly, in all his selfishness, he was glad to have some competition taken out. 

Daenerys already saw you as her sister, but with her mother’s death, it only made her cling to you far more and made the two of you closer than ever. You did always have a way of cheering her up. In the evenings, either one of you would sneak into each other’s bedchambers just to spend time conversing. 

Daenerys loved when you would do her hair, sending away any of her handmaidens to do it instead. Even when you think you did a poor job, Dany was quick to compliment you. She was affectionate in general, embracing you either when she greeted you or when she said her goodbyes.

With Naerys and Aemon dead, Aegon continued spreading the rumors of his son’s illegitimacy, and tried getting you on his side more than once. But it only made him despise his son more seeing your intense loyalty towards him. Made worse with the queen dead, the mistresses were far more bold, pushing their children to get closer to you as a way to gain more favor in court. 

Aegor was the first to catch your attention. Even as a child, his protectiveness and possessive were evident to the whole court. If it wasn’t your father pushing away the other children, it was Aegor. In his eyes, Aegor saw you as a sweet thing to be protected, and he was willing to do anything you asked of him.

He was easily jealous and bitter of anyone taking your attention away from him. Whether it’s your lady friends, to which Aegor stands in the corner glaring at them, or Daenerys, who’s having some tea time with you. Worst of all, his anger was all directed towards Daeron to which Aegor had to hold himself from lunging at the prince whenever Daeron took you away from Aegor.

Though there’s no bigger rival to Aegon until Brynden comes into the picture. Between the half-brothers, there’s no familiarity. Not only do their houses hold a long rivalry that passes generations but Aegor’s mother was passed over by Brynden’s.

Aegon allowed you not only to know Melissa Blackwood but also to become familiar with her three children: Myra, Gwenys, and Brynden. Aegor hated how Brynden seemed to easily catch your attention. You didn’t notice the way Brynden slowly inserted himself into your little friend group with his sisters. And when you add Shiera to the mix, Aegor only grew to loathe Brynden more.

As said, while Aegor is more aggressive and demanding, Brynden is much more subtle. He has a way of getting you to open up to him, and he is a great listener, remembering every little bit. Brynden also seems to have a knack for noticing the little details from your rings to your headpieces. 

But like Aegor, Brynden is also a jealous man. You have no idea how many he has sent away, whispering doubts into your ears about the "suspicious" acts of your lady friends. Even as a child, Brynden had a way of pulling the strings and somehow he knew all there was to know. 

Shiera takes any opportunity to steal you away, locking arms as she guides you away when the two half-brothers are at each other’s throats. She would spend many hours with you if she could, listening to your sweet voice. One of her favorite things to do is get you ready for feasts in your chambers; she is fond of ivory and lace and incorporates it into your style as well.

Though none of Aegon’s bastards are closer to you than Daemon Waters. You would usually catch him in the corner of your eye, and you didn’t mind his company with how nicely he treated you. Giving you advice when needed, complimenting your dress, or gently tucking anything in place.

He was your father’s (second) favorite, and it’s evident in how he allowed Daemon the privilege to become closer to you. History remembers all too well when he handed Daemon ‘Blackfyre,’ but what history doesn’t know is that it secretly made Daemon feel as if he’s more worthy of your attention.

As expected from an Heir, Daeron resided in Dragonstone for a few years. He promised to exchange ravens and he kept to his word. As much as Daeron missed you terribly and desired nothing more than to bring you along, he knew his father’s answer. 

The more Aegon sat on the throne, the more your seat was right to next to it; a little throne of your own, one made comfortable instead of his. It was the last years that made Aegon actually never leave your side, not even Daemon could interact all that much with you. 

When Aegon’s reign ended, he demanded you to be on his side as spent his last moments on his deathbed. And it made you a witness to his last decree: legitimizing all his great bastards; a last spite against Daeron.

Upon learning of his father’s death, you and Daeron reunited once more, a happy moment instantly overshadowed by the realization that Daeron must do his supposed duty, crowning himself with you as his witness. He spent his time repairing all the damage his father did. Daeron would go as far as to include you in the council, and like his father, would look forward to your advice, but unlike his father, he can choose to make his own decisions.

Daenerys being sent off to Dorne was upsetting for both of you. You both promised to exchange letters and gifts. Dany would send letters detailing her time in Dorne, how she grew fond of the place and the people, but that she missed home and, most of all, she missed you. Daeron made promises to have you visit her, but secretly the two of you knew that wouldn’t happen. 

Daemon and the rest of the bastards being legitimized was an incident that made everyone hold their breath; they all knew the consequences of doing such a thing. But for now, it seemed as if not much had changed. Daemon took the name ‘Blackfyre’, and he and the rest were strangely treated well by Daeron and allowed at court.

With Aegon no longer around, they were all allowed to spend time that they could not have. A secret among everyone was that it was a relief Aegon’s passed. Daeron, of course, had more authority than anyone else, but he strangely did not hold his father’s intense possessiveness and jealousy, and the same went for Myriah, who treated you so well and convinced her husband to give you some freedom.

It meant you were permitted to be entertained in court as much as you wanted. Dancing with the other lords and ladies even if it led Daemon and Shiera taking all of your time.

You were also permitted the freedom to attend many dramatic performances and the jousting where many men competed for your hand. But something that Daeron and all the others agreed on: was that you were off limits.

While Daemon sat well in court, it was Aegor who whispered things to his ear. Aegon’s intense envy and bitterness never dissipated; if anything, he found himself resenting Daeron more and more over the years. He thought while the king presented smiles and courtesy when taking you away, he assumed the king was a fox behind a sheep’s clothing wanting you all to himself.

And we can assume the resentment never stopped towards Brynden. Not only did he take the woman he loved, Aegor is forced to share you with the man he hates more than anything. Brynden gives him passing looks that Aegor knows all too well what it means. But a sight that makes him clenches his fists is watching you read with Shiera and Brynden, sitting too closely between the two of them.

Family dinners, while on the surface seem nice,  all the servants and the guards could feel the tensions rising. You are obviously seated next to the king, or at times seated next to Myriah. They all exchange pleasantries, but one can notice the glare Aegor gives when Brynden speaks to you, how Shiera and Daemon tend to only seek you out in conversations. How the rest tense when you compliment or thank one of them. 

And while everything seems pleasant at the moment, it no longer does when Daemon Blackfyre announces himself as the rightful king with Aegor on his side. When Daeron has you locked in your chambers or has guards watching your every move for your safety, but most of all to ensure you are not taken under his nose.

Shiera and Brynden who take Daeron’s side reassure they all want the best for you. There is a war brewing between the family and everyone is well aware you are stuck in the middle.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

His Princess - Pt7

fancast!bloody ben x targ!fem!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

Summary: The battle continues at Kings Landing as the dance begins in Harrenhal. When everything seems overwhelming there is a break on the horizon. Rhaenyra sends Y/n and Ben back to Harrenhal after they take Kings Landing to see the outcome. 

Warnings: 18+ battle/war, blades, blood, death, swearing, my version of the battle above gods eye(spoiler for the show bc it’s fr and it’s not cute) - mc but cannon death, beheading, alys spreading info like the gossip she is, after war and gossip oral(f receiving), fingering

Authors Note: hopefully the switching of the povs offers what I wanted it to!!!!, hate cole but i can’t deny he’s a good swordsman and would need at least two ppl to take him in a fight, i tried to keep gods eye minimal bc i can’t stand dragons fighting!!!, also daeron is not apart of this story bc i didn’t want another dragon to be hurt!

Word Count: 5.5k almost half of this is war

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Y/n Pov:

“Find him,” I sob to Vermithor and his growls shake the walls around the city as Silverwing and I give out an earth shattering cry as we circle the host raining fire upon the Greens. 

Vermithor gives out a bone chilling roar and sprays fire along the Gods gate. I’m turning my head searching for any sign of Ben as Silverwing follows close to Vermithor. I take notice of Vermithors wound but it’s more of just a scratch and the bleeding has already ceased much to my relief. My adrenaline rises to match my fear as my heart pounds wildly in my chest as we continue our search for Ben. 

Vermithor circles around where I last saw Ben and begins to fly down to the ground. He sprays the ground in dragon flame before he lands on the burning men as Silverwing lands us in the center of the fire next to him. The warmth licks at my armor as I watch the flames die around me. As the haze clears I see Ben cutting down men around him in a frenzy. 

I sob in relief as I see him still in one piece and quickly slide off of Silverwing. I slip the sword from my back and go to Ben’s side. My blade becomes an extension of myself as my body goes into a killing calm. Everything around me fades away as I face man after man. As I turn to my next victim I can see the burnt scorpion behind the host. 

Cole emerges from the ruins and bodies offering me a bloody smile. Our dragons step closer to me and bare their teeth. Their low growls and chuffs vibrate the ground beneath us. Ben turns to me and sees Cole walking over to me and quickly makes it to my side. 

“You need two dragons and a whores daughter to stand against me?” Cole laughs to Ben bitterly spitting.

“You will still die in the end.” I hum raising my sword.

“We shall see.” he charges forward with his blade in front of him and I quickly fold backwards to avoid his swing. 

Ben comes from behind and strikes with his sword and Cole barely avoids the metal. I rise once again and try to catch Cole from behind but he is quick on his feet. The three of us dance with our blades as the war continues to wage around us. My nerves start to rise as I see our host getting overwhelmed as both of our dragons are grounded with us for the moment. 

This moment of thought has costed me dearly. Pain washes through the side of my face as blood trickles down my neck as Coles sword slices my flesh. I give out a loud cry and Silverwing screams with me. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

Harrenhal Pov:

The clouds hang low in the sky as the smell of rain on the horizon washes over the ruined castle. The sky is preparing to weep for the dance that will soon take place. Fog begins to roll in from the forest line casting everything in a gray light.  

“You will die here today.” Alys appears through the foggy gates walking to Daemon and Caraxes.

“As long as I take Aemond with me, I care not.” Daemon pulls his helm on and makes sure everything is secure.

“So eager to die before you meet your grandchild?” Alys tilts her head with a small smile.

“They’ll be better off without me.” he mounts Caraxes and shoots into the sky. 

Daemon has had enough of Alys’ mind games and doesn’t even bat an eye at the insinuation of having grandchildren. He never saw himself living long enough to see his children or wife contented. He knows this is the last thing he will be able to give them and he hopes it’s enough to change the tides of the war. 

Daemon circles around Harrenhal keeping his eyes peeled for Vhagar and her one eyed rider. He’s growing impatient but he can feel the promise of death in the air. Caraxes perches on one of the towers as they await their fate. A low grumble comes from the distance and Vhagar comes into view from the clouds. 

Daemon shoots into the sky and lures them away from the castle. He doesn’t much care for this castle but he knows many Lords will ask Rhaenyra for it so it must remain standing. He leads Aemond over the body of water called Gods Eye.

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Y/n Pov:

As I rise to my feet Ben is relentlessly bashing his sword into Coles. The metal song promises death. I try to find an opening to help Ben once more but he has a glazed look over his eyes as he slams repeatedly into Cole. I watch on in shock as I’ve never seen Ben fight like this. Some of his men stop and watch on as this one on one continues. 

Our dragons grumble as some of Coles men stand and watch. It seems as if this part of the wall is on a pause as they wait to see what happens. I rip a piece of my shirt off from under my armor and wipe off the side of my face. The cut seems to start just under my eye and travels down to my jaw. The dirtied cloth stings but it helps staunch the blood. Ben lets out a mighty roar and swings his long sword and I gasp with widened eyes.

“Your Kingmaker.” Ben yells as he raises Coles head into the air. 

He dips down and grabs Coles foot and drags it to Vermithor who grabs his leg in his claws. He returns to me still gripping Coles head in his hands and I look to him as he’s breathing heavily. He turns my face and looks at my cut as his nostrils flare.

“I’m sorry.” he whispers as the men begin to look around unsure if we’re to keep fighting. “To Silverwing.” he nods his head and begins to usher me over before he goes to mount Vermithor. 

Vermithor and Silverwing shoot to the skies and give out victorious growls. I look down at Vermithors claws as Coles headless body is being paraded through the air. He slides low to the Green host and they falter as they take on the body hanging above them. 

“Your Kingmaker is dead and your King dies at Harrenhal.” Ben proclaims as we fly along the walls. 

A loud grumble comes from the clouds and my heart stops as I see a large shadow approaching. As the dragon comes into view I squint my eyes trying to figure out who it is. It’s not Vhagar or any other I’ve ever seen. Silverwing chirps and flies to meet the new dragon. I shake my head thinking I must be delusional from blood loss as I spot Rhaena atop this dragon. 

“I figured I would help in the war!” Rhaena calls out as her dragon gives out a fierce cry and I look below as a sob rips through me as I see a grand host from the Vale and the North seeping through the tree lines running to meet the Greens host.

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Harrenhal Pov:

Caraxes and Vhagar circle each other around the body of water and give out low grumbles. The sky begins to cry as the dragons close in on one another. The Blood Wyrm quickly twists around the old fossil as she barely turns in time for the first snap of teeth. Vhagar gives out a loud cry as Caraxes sinks his teeth into her neck. 

Vhagar pulls away from Caraxes and breathes fire upon him and Daemon. Daemon flies through the flame and straight for Vhagars rider. Aemond dips, narrowly avoiding Caraxes maw. They pull back from one another and the dragons circle above the water once more.

“You have lived long enough,” Aemond calls across the skies to Daemon. 

“Something we agree upon,” Daemon chuckles as he begins to unclip from Caraxes. 

The world seems to hold its breath as Daemon unsheathes Dark Sister and points to Aemond and Vhagar. Caraxes flies quick and hard latching onto Vhagar. Daemon jumps from his dragon to Aemond landing on Vhagars head. He sprints down on uneven feet as Aemond struggles to get his weapon or unclip from his saddle. 

“For my Queen,” Daemon roars as he pierces Dark Sisters through Aemonds one eye before everything goes black.

The dragon’s give out a cry and spiral down to the water. The impact could be felt well over a hundred miles. Blood rain falls from the sky as the false King and the Rogue Prince implode to their watery grave. 

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3rd person Rhaenyra Pov: 

Addam has been sent to recruit the small folk and hand out armor and weapons for those willing and able. Rhaenyra has slipped into the castle through the tunnels and has made quick work of finding her loyalists. She makes it to the throne room and lets out a breathy laugh. Alicent and Helaena are brought in and kneel before her. 

“Rhaenyra please,” Alicent pleads from her knees as Rhaenyra holds a blade to her throat. 

“You brought this upon yourself.” she looks down to Alicent with contempt. 

“The Kings are dead.” Helaena speaks softly from her place next to Alicent. 

“Which ones?” Rhaenyra turns her head to Helaena lowering the blade from Alicents throat. 

“All of them.” Helaena shakes her head and Rhaenyras blade falls out of her hand. 

“Ring the bells to let-“ 

“Your Grace, another dragon and a host.” Addam bursts through the throne room doors breathing heavily.

“Who?” Rhaenyra looks at him confused. 

“They say Rhaena with a host from the Vale and North.” Addam takes in the scene before him. 

“She’s done it.” Rhaenyra smiles breathing out a sigh of triumph and relief.

“They also say that Ben and Vermithor are flying around Coles headless body above the host. He carries his head on his back.” Alicent lets out a soft sob at his words. 

“Your son’s are dead. Your Kingmaker has been beheaded. You are surrounded. Ring the bells and save your remaining men.” Rhaenyra looks down to Alicent. 

“The common folk will remember this destruction.” Alicent narrows her eyes at Rhaenyra. 

“They fight your host from within the walls. You have lost.” Rhaenyra tugs Alicent up harshly and begins to bring her to the bell tower. 

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Y/n Pov: 

My head cranes to the city as the bells begin to toll. All of the dragons surround the city and  give out one last cry before they start to the Keep. As we look down the fighting is slowing and swords are being lowered. I’m in awe as we fly through the city at the amount of small folk that are pushing the Greens out of the gates. 

Baela and Jace come into view and tears start sliding down my face as I see them unscathed and safe. Rhaena comes from behind the Keep with Addam trailing close behind her. Our dragons follow Syraxs call and we land perched on the main gates. 

We all dismount and make it down to the main courtyard. We all look to each other and my siblings take in mine and Ben’s appearance. Their eyebrows furrow as they see my cut and look to our blood and dirt covered bodies. I turn to Ben and see Cole’s head bouncing against his back as he approaches me. Vermithor lets out a low growl and flings Cole’s body to the center of the yard. 

“I see burning people wasn’t enough for you both.” Jaces voice drowns out as me and Ben look to each other. 

“Let’s find a witch to bring him back. I want to kill him slower.” his voice rough as he tilts my chin to look at my cut. 

“I’m okay.” I look up to him taking in the death that remains in his eyes. 

“We will find you a maester at once.” he pulls me with him into the castle. 

“Where are you two going?” Baela yells after us. 

I tug him to the throne room thankful he doesn’t know where the maesters chambers are. I must see my mother. I need to know who rang those bells and what it means. As the doors groan under my hands I behold my mother atop the throne with her crown on her brow. 

“Daughter,” Rhaenyra rises taking in my state. “My children,” her voice wavers as the rest of my siblings trail in behind me and Ben. 

“My Queen,” I bow. 

“Call for a maester,” Rhaenyra flicks her head to Jace and he’s out in the hall shouting in seconds. 

I huff as he brings in a maester who sits me on a chair and begins to clean my wound. Ben holds my hand as the maester beings to stitch up my cheek. Rhaenyra is lowly talking to my siblings about how their plans went and she finally turns to me and Ben. 

“I wish to see the head.” Rhaenyras voice travels through the hall. 

“The rest of him is in the courtyard.” Ben rises from my side and pulls the head from his back. He offers her the head holding it by his hair. 

“You’ve done me a great service, Benjicot.” she shakes her head at a loss for words. “What happened to your cheek?” Rhaenyra turns her attention to me. 

“Cole.” I say trying to steady my breathing as the maester pulls the thread in and out of my flesh for his last stitch.

“You fool,” she shakes her head before she leans down and engulfs me in a hug before she turns back to the group of us.

“We’ve done it, gather the remaining Lords so we may start about clearing out the traitors and moving forward.” she turns and nods her head to us. “Ben, Y/n,” she stops us before we exit.

“Yes?” we turn back to her. 

“I have one more immeasurable favor to ask of you both.” she whispers down to us. 

“Say it and it will be done.” I look to her with tired eyes but ready to do what she needs. 

“Go to Harrenhal and see what remains.” her voice barely a murmur as her eyes begin to tear. 

“We will go at once,” I nod my head. 

She walks out of the Keep with us as we take in the dragons and the wall crumbling under their claws. Her head snaps to the rest of Coles body that remains in the center of the courtyard. From beyond the gates we hear shouts and cries of agony from the people who were not as lucky. 

“Fly safe and stay together.” she pulls me and Ben into a tight hug. “Please return to me.” her voice a whisper as she looks to both of us. 

Ben turns to me and we finally have a moment alone to ourselves. I look into his eyes and he seems to be coming down from his adrenaline still. I wrap my arms around him and he holds me tightly against him. I care not of our blood and dirt and pull his lips to mine feverishly.

“I want you to fly with me and Vermithor,” he looks down to me separating our lips. 

“Ben, I’m fine,” I sigh looking up to him.

“I know, but I just want you by me.” his hold on me tightens.

“Then ask Silverwing,” I relent and he pulls away to turn to my dragon as I walk to his.

“You flew valiantly today, my beautiful Silverwing. Will you allow Y/n to fly with me and Vermithor on our next journey?” I turn from Verithors neck and see Silverwing nudge into Ben before he starts towards me.

“Up you go.” he softly tugs me towards his wings and I begin my climb. We quickly settle and take flight. Silverwing flies next to us and they both give out a victorious song to the men below before we coast out on the horizon.

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

As we enter the Riverlands we can feel the great loss in the air. The clouds weep, cleaning off some of our blood and dirt as we make our way to the ruined castle. Our dragons give out low grumbles as we approach Harrenhal and begin to make our descent outside the main gates. 

Ben helps me off refusing to let me do anything on my own. He has a hand pressed against me at all times and grabs my hand for his own once we make it the ground. The heaviness in the air is unsettling while the wind sings an eerie song. 

The castle grounds are silent. We saw no dragons on approach and hear nothing as we look around for any sign of a threat. As we turn my heart goes to my throat as Alys appears. 

“Where are they?” I ask pulling the bone knife from its sheath and pointing it at her. 

“I would think you wouldn’t be so quick to show your child more death and violence. Though, you are your father’s child..” she trails off with a smile. 

“My child?” my eyebrows furrow as I raise the knife even higher. 

“The one you’ve been carrying for a moon now.” she nods to me and looks to Ben. I bring my free hand to my abdomen and try to think of any signs that her words are true. “I may have played mind games with your father but I can’t slip through your bond with the child’s father. He’s very protective.” she chuckles to Ben who is now trying to push me behind him. 

“Where is my father?” my voice wavers as my mind already knows the answer. 

“You’ll find him under the Gods Eye.” her skirts swish as she disappears behind the walls once more. 

“Stay with the dragons and I will go.” he looks down to me intensely. 

“You will not start with this overprotective male dominance now.” I huff as I try to walk past him but he grabs my arm to stop me. 

“Y/n,” he looks to me with pleading eyes as his hand travels to my lower abdomen. 

“After I find my father,” I shake my head and pull him along with me. 

We walk silently to the body of water just beyond the crumbling fortress. Our dragons follow behind us the ground shaking at their heavy steps. As we approach my breath catches taking in the blood splattered around the shores. 

Pieces of the once great dragons are jutting through the surface of the water. I can tell it’s both dragons by their coloring and a sob bubbles out of my mouth. My hand slips from Ben’s as I fall to my knees on the shore looking on at the still water. He kneels next to me and hugs me tightly. 

“I have to go find him.” I shake my head as tears begin to slip down my cheeks. 

I rise and start to walk into the once clear water that seems to now be stained a blush pink. Water licks at my thighs until I begin to start my swim. I swim around the masses in the water until I spot Caraxes. As I dip my head under the water to look for him my stitched cut screams in agony. 

I pull up for breath and begin to move around to see if I can find him anywhere else. I’ve been searching around Caraxes and have found nothing so I relent and begin my search around Vhagar. Ben shouts at me from the shore but I can’t abandon this search. 

As I dip down under the surface again my eyes blurry I spot Aemond in Vhagars saddle. I slip above the water to take in a deep breath before I dive down. My eyes bulge as I take in Dark Sister pierced through his remaining eye. I quickly scan the area and my remaining air bubbles out of my mouth as I see Daemon resting on the rocky bottom. I swim to the top and let out a loud sob. 

“Ben, I need you,” I cry and he’s running into the water and at my side in seconds. 

We swim below the surface and I rip Dark Sister from Aemonds head as Ben begins to lift and pull Daemons body to the surface. I grab on and help him carry him to shore. As we finally make it to the sands I sit silently looking down at his blade. 

“I-“ I shake my head as tears begin falling down my face. 

I let out a grief stricken scream and Silverwing quickly approaches the shores and curls near me. Ben holds me to him as my sobs continue to wreck me. My breathing finally settles and he looks up to me with sad eyes while wiping them away with his thumbs. 

“We need to prepare his body to bring back home.” I sniffle before getting to my feet.

“I’ll go see if there’s a maester or someone,” Ben rises wiping the sand off of him. 

“I told him he would die here.” Alys comes from the other side of the shore. 

“Are you just here to mock me and speak in riddles?” I yell exasperated. 

“I’ve brought this for your cheek. It’ll heal it better than those stitches.” she offers me a cup and I look at the foul smelling paste. “I’m also the only maester, if that’s what you want to call me, and I can prepare his body for your travels.” she offers and I cant tell if she’s sincere or not so I turn to Ben hoping he will deal with this situation for me. 

“What is this paste?” he grabs the cup from my hands. 

“Your dragons wouldn’t allow me to poison the mother of your child. Use it or don’t.” she chuckles turning her head to look at our dragons. 

“I want his body treated with respect. Bound and wrapped tastefully befitting a King. All of his armor is to be cleaned and properly packed so we may travel with ease. We will take our old chambers while you finish your work.” Ben pulls me to his side as we begin to walk to the castle once more. 

Our feet drag up the stairs as we stop in front of familiar doors. Ben pushes them open and escorts me to a chair to sit down. I place Dark Sister next to me and let out a shaky sigh. He kneels in front of me and locks his eyes with mine. 

“I’m sorry,” his words soft as he places the cup with the paste next to me and grabs my hands. 

“I had hoped he would make it.” tears still slide down my cheeks as he pulls me down into a hug.

“It seems as if Alys made you a bath. Let me clean you and help you relax.” he hums standing with me. 

He walks me to the bath and begins to remove my stained armor. I peel off my clothes as he starts to take off his armor. When he removes his shirt I can see small cuts littering his skin and I look at him with sad but thankful eyes that he’s still with me. He helps me slide into the bath and takes a seat next to me. 

The warm water lulls my muscles and I lean back resting my head on the lip of the small pool. I feel the water shift and he starts to undo my braids releasing their tension. I sigh in relief and allow my eyes to drift shut. He brings a cloth and soap to begin wiping my skin as I relax further into the water. 

“Do you want to try her paste?” his voice soft as I crack an eye open. 

“Sure, if anything bad happens Silverwing will eat her.” I shrug as he rises out of the bath. 

“I will kill her myself if she causes harm to you.” his voice trails to me from the couch before he returns. 

He applies a generous amount of paste to his fingers and brings his free hand to my jaw to tilt my head. I look up to him expectantly as he lowers his fingers to my cheek. I wince as the cold paste slides down my face and a shiver travels my spine as I feel the wound dispelling the stitches and doing its own work. 

“It’s healed.” his words almost a question as he tilts my head. He brings his hand up and shows me the black thread that was once holding my cheek. “That means she wasn’t lying.” his hand slides from my chin and he places it on my stomach. 

“Ben,” his name falls from my mouth as I allow myself to finally think about Alys’ words and the life growing inside me. 

“The mother of my children, my Princess, my wife.” his words filled with devotion as his lips softly press against mine. 

I let his lips wash away the day and all that’s come with it. His hand resting on my lower abdomen slides a little lower and I moan into his mouth as he circles my clit. His lips kiss down my now healed cheek and licks around my pulse. 

“I can’t wait to see you growing with our child.” he whispers in my ear as he dips his fingers into my core. “You’re gunna be even more beautiful.” I rest my head on his shoulder as my hips grind into his hand as my pleasure is already washing through me from my heightened emotions.

“Come let’s get you into bed while I find you some clothes. I’m sure we’ve left some behind.” he helps me out of the tub and walks me over to the bed always keeping a hand placed on me. 

“Ben I’m not going to break, I just fought alongside you in a war.” I huff but still allowing him to pull the covers over my body. 

“Do not remind me.” his rage seeps off of him. 

“Don’t work yourself up again.” I roll my eyes chuckling. “Come to bed, let’s forget today for a little while.” I pout my lips trying to pull him in with me. 

“I must find you clothes and food and a drink. Is there anything else?” he rambles as he begins walking to the doors. 

“Maybe some clothes for yourself? I know Harrenhal is empty but I don’t think the ghosts want you walking around nude.” I shake my head smiling. 

He pulls open the wardrobe and quickly slides on some pants and continues to rifle through what we’ve left. He pulls out wrinkled shirt next and shrugs before putting it on. He finds the shortest slip that’s been made in all of the seven kingdoms apparently and tosses it to me on the bed. 

“Now you have clothes.” he nods to himself before slipping out the door. I sigh and slip the piece of fabric on nonetheless. I pull the blankets closer and allow my eyes to rest while he’s off on his hunt. 

“I found some meat and cake and that’s about it.” Ben pushes the doors open jolting me awake. “And water. I’ve also spoken with Alys.” I stretch out wiping my eyes. 

“Pray tell what more Alys had to say.” I sigh as I hold my hands out expectantly for my water. 

“Just that she’ll have everything prepared for us by the morning. I’ve sent a raven to  Rhaenrya telling her that we will return tomorrow.” he hands me my glass of water and sits on the bed next to me with the tray of food. 

“You didn’t deliver the news of Daemon in that letter, did you?” I pull the cup from my lips. 

“No, she needs to see for herself.” he shakes his head. He starts to cut up the meat on the tray and goes to feed it to me. 

“Benjicot Blackwood,” I scold. “What happened to the man who made me and Silverwing hunt for him and his dragon?” I raise my eyebrows as a smile plays on my lips. 

“Shh, I’ll be the man now.” he tries to hide his smile as I accept the meat from the fork. 

“Then that means no more jumping off of Vermithor into the middle of a war.” I narrow my eyes at him as I accept another mouthful. 

“I was wondering when you would yell at me about that.” he says sheepishly. 

“I was so fucking scared. I thought my heart was going to stop. Never do that again.” I furrow my brows. “You did look incredibly fierce doing it though.” I whisper and his eyes snap to mine. 

“Fierce, hm?” he smiles down to me. 

“And fucking stupid.” I push him back as he chuckles. 

“Well let’s hope our child takes after you.” his smile is soft as he sits up. 

“Do you wish for a boy or a girl?” I hum as he starts to feed me cake. 

“I care not.” his smile widens. 

“I hope for a girl, so I think we’ll have a boy.” I chuckle accepting more of the sweet dessert. 

“Then we’ll have as many until we get a girl.” he discards the tray on the ground to bring his full attention to me. 

“We shall see what the Gods grant us.” I hum pulling him into a kiss. “Did you not bring any food for yourself?” I pull back looking to him. 

“I ate as your food was being prepared. I wanted to have a different kind of dessert.” his eyes darken and he crawls over me kissing me once more. 

My thighs spread as he settles between them. He licks and kisses down my neck before circling his tongue over my covered nipples. I whine as he scrapes his teeth around them before snaking his way lower. He places featherlight kisses down my slit as I sigh, bucking my hips to his face. 

His tongue juts out and offers small licks to my sensitive bud as I softly pant above him. His lips encase me while his tongue lashes against me quickly. My hand goes to his hair as I grind against his mouth and chase my pleasure. His other hand interlocks with my free hand as he continues with his tongue. 

“Ben, fuck,” I cry as I arch off the bed. 

He licks down my center and pushes his tongue into me as I gasp trying to catch my breath. He brings his other hand to circle along my bud as his tongue laps at my wetness. I explode across his face and he continues licking to clean me off. I sigh as my body melts into the bed as he comes to lay at my side. 

“What of you?” I say my eyes barely open as I go to reach for his length. 

“I’m okay, my love. Rest.” he grabs my hand and kisses my forehead as I curl into him allowing my mind to forget all of the bad today and only think of the good. 

We’ve taken Kings Landing. My mother sits the throne. My cheek is healed. I have a life growing inside me. I have a man who is absolutely devoted to me at my side awaiting the day we can marry and I can’t wait to marry him. I drift off contented listening to his heartbeat. 

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆

masterlist 🔌 

Part 8

ik i said 3 more parts 2 parts ago which means only one more after this but that’s just not enough?? and now i want to write abt them being happy and married and with kids wtfff are ppl down for that or do i do a spin off series??? like lmk bc i want more than just an epilogue and a glimpse like no i want to see this man waiting on you hand and foot and being absolutely OBSESSED with you pregnant with his child 

taglist ✍️ 

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @anaviieiraaa @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @zanygot7straykidsbonk

if I missed anyone lmk!

[n-i-m-u-e]

luke and aemond accidentally run into each other in the doorway luke:*a little shyly* oh qȳbor, look, we're under a mistletoe aemond:*looks up* just a plastic decoration and not of the best quality, aegon hung up to make harass on your older brother luke: 🥺 later that night aemond:*wakes up at 3:47 am* fucking eve! —was he flirting with me?!?! ____________________________________________________ aegon:*leaning casually against the doorframe, filing his nails* jace:*struggling to get through, loaded with packages up to his eyebrows* aegon:*very pointedly* ahem-ahem jace: seriously, aeg? for the fifth time today? aegon: i didn’t make the rules! show some fucking respect for the christmas traditions of your fucking ancestors, jacaerys! ____________________________________________________

joffrey:*has spent the entire day trying to catch a moment when aegon isn’t blocking the doorway so he can bump into daeron* daeron:*walks in, typing on his phone, not looking around* joffrey:*darts out at the last second, but doesn't have time to intercept daeron in time* ah, hi, uncle... i... haha... i mean... daeron:*still not looking up, silently leans over, kisses joffrey softly on the lips, continues on his way with a smile*

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Five

Chapter Summary: Genuine kindness is rare in the Red Keep, and when Prince Aemond had a taste of it, he wouldn’t think it possible for him to ever bestow cruelty on the one who had shown that to him. Word Count: 5,704 Warnings: Realizations, Lady Elinora and Prince Aemond (somewhat) Getting Along, Concerned Elinora, Daeron Playing Match Maker

It’s impossible! The probability of it was slim to none, yet Aemond was kept up all night entertaining the possibility of him having any emotion other than loathing for Lady Elinora. He was greatly upset with himself as he even thought as such. Why was he even thinking as such? Of course, he held no attraction for the girl. And if he did, he surely would come to know immediately, yes? 

However, as Aemond thought of attraction, he had no words to describe it. Had he ever felt attraction before? He tossed in his bed as he thought about such questions. Surely, attraction was not the same as lust— what he felt at the moment was not of urges or bodily whims. If not lust, what then? He refused to believe that it was a fondness he felt, it could not be. He could not definitely say it was affection because he had no idea what that felt like, leading the prince to grow restless the entire night. 

Aemond looked upon the ceiling with a deep scowl, the first sun rays of the day began to shine upon his room. He only rests for a few hours, and to have the limited time of his respite be taken and consumed by a girl, he convinced himself he felt indifferent. He sat up and wore his eye patch, the deep scowl between his brows never disappearing as he readied himself for the day. 

As per his custom, Aemond began his day by walking along the keep. Simply inspecting his home, seeing if the servants did their duties and if everything was in order. But in truth, he is simply killing time as Ser Cole is still to wake so they can begin their sparring session. Aemond passed the godswood, the amber leaves alight with a golden hue, and naught a soul was to be accounted in the area. He then went on to the great hall, maids bustling around as they dusted and swept the room to tidy it from last night’s feast. “Good morrow, Your Highness,” he would hear the servants greet as he passed, and not once did he spare them a second glance. 

Aemond then ventured towards the library, the only time it was somewhat busy was in the morning when maesters searched for specific books needed for their study. The prince then walked past the guest wing, lord and ladies soundly asleep in their chambers. He was almost nearing the end of his routine when he turned to his left and saw the hall leading to the royal wing. Where the chamber of the girl who had haunted his mind lodged. 

Aemond paused in the halls for a moment. A voice in him was telling him to go about the wing, but his stubbornness told him to walk onward. But before the prince could decide for himself, he watched as a door slowly opened, and the girl he had been thinking about sneaking out of her chambers. Making quiet yet hastened steps to the staircase that was situated at the end of the royal wing. Aemond raised a brow, intrigued. Surely, she was up to no good. Aemond had naught a choice but to trail her. He followed the girl, hiding himself behind pillars and walls so she would not suspect that she was being trailed. 

Aemond was led to the gardens, no surprise to him, however, Elinora would usually venture to the gardens at a later time of the day, a fact that the prince was surprised to realize that he knew. Aemond would think she would go to the flowers, just as her usual custom, but the girl continued to walk onward towards the pond where she mourned the fallen butterfly. Aemond had hidden himself behind a bush as he watched the girl crouch at the edge of the pond and take a pouch from her pocket. 

Aemond decided to trail closer to see what Elinora was doing. When he was a few yards away from the girl, he realized that swans and ducks that inhabited the pond began to swim near her as if they already knew Elinora. The prince then realized what the girl was doing, she woke at first light and sneaked her way through the keep just to feed the ducks! Ridiculous. Or… endearing? Aemond scowled at himself at the thought. 

The prince quietly walked his way to the girl’s side, “What are you doing?” He asked the obvious. His voice and the sudden appearance of his reflection upon the water that the girl stared upon shocked Elinora. The girl let out a startled scream and almost fell into the water due to her shock, luckily, the prince was quick to act as he bent down and took hold of her waist to steady her. “By gods! Would you be quiet? The castle is still asleep,” He chastised as Elinora stood, but he never removed his hold on her. Quite odd since Aemond had never been fond of touching or being touched by another. 

“I’m sorry… you frigh— you caught me by surprise,” Elinora explained as she caught her breath. Quickly changing one word to another, she feared that if she said ‘frightened,’ it might offend the prince, however true the statement may be. Aemond pursed his lips as Elinora finally raised her gaze, and her jade eyes were met with his. “What were you doing?” The prince asked once more, unable to think of another point of conversation with the girl. Aemond frowned at himself at the thought. Before, he relished in the silence. However, now, why could he not control himself from speaking to a girl he convinced himself he felt indifferent towards? 

“Feeding them,” Elinora said, her eyes glancing towards the creatures that expectedly waited for her to return to her custom, but the prince hindered him from doing so. That is when Elinora realized that the prince still had a hold on her waist. “Uh… if you would excuse me, my prince, I think they’re quite hungry,” She said and tried to pry away the prince’s hands from her waist. Letting their skin touch and feeling the coldness of Prince Aemond’s hands. 

“They could feed themselves,” Aemond spoke, his hands savoring the touch of warmth that Elinora presented. “I know,” Elinora answered as a swan paddled itself closer to her hand where crumbs of bread were placed. “Why then do you do it?” Aemond asked as he, too, squatted next to Elinora, who attracted all the creatures. “Well, it’s quite peaceful here most days,” She began as she turned to the prince with the pouch of bread crumbs and implored him to feed the birds as well. 

Aemond’s first instinct was to frown and roll his eye at the girl, which is why it was surprising as he did as she silently said without question or mean reactions. “And I noticed the other days that they would fight each other for just a morsel of food,” Elinora finished her thought as Aemond threw the crumbs into the pond, a bread crust hitting a duckling. “Oh,” the girl said as she witnessed the scene, and the duckling quickly swam its way to her as if protecting herself from the prince. “Best not to harm them as you feed them, my prince,” Elinora said as she leaned forward and brushed the duckling’s head with her finger, smoothing its feathers. 

Aemond let out a quiet scoff, but he still did what the girl said—gently sprinkled the bread crumbs onto the water. “That is simply nature, my lady; it’s natural selection. The weaker will yield, and the strong will be triumphant,” Aemond remarked and turned to the girl, her small smile as she tended towards the creatures lessening as she registered his words. “Even so, it could be avoided for now.” She answered.

“You’re coddling them. Each day you do this, you make them dependent instead of them learning how to fend for themselves. Why would they search for food now when they know a lady would come and feed them and turn them fat?” Elinora frowned at the prince’s words, a pout coming to her lips as what she thought was a kind gesture was being criticized by the prince. 

Aemond heard no reply from the girl, only watched as she fiddled with a lock of her hair as she processed his words. No noise was to be heard except for the distinct chirp of birds and the silent slosh of water. Aemond sighed, perhaps that was not the right thing to say, he thought. He never second-guessed what he uttered before. He called it as he saw it. 

The prince tried to reach towards the pouch of bread crumbs again, but their fingers brushed as she took the pouch in her hands and abruptly stood, surprising Aemond. “Good day, your Highness,” Elinora muttered and quickly curtsied before hastily walking away from his presence. Aemond stayed there, comprehending what had happened and how quick she was to depart. 

He recalled what he said and sighed, the swans and ducks looking at him expectantly as if asking if Elinora would return. Aemond shook his head and dusted off his hands, walking off as the day was still fresh, yet he had already offended the girl. 

Elinora wandered about the castle, face flushed in annoyance and embarrassment. She was inside her head as she tried to erase all the prince had said, but it seemed to quickly etch itself in her head. The girl was not paying attention to where she walked and managed to collide with another. “Elinora? Why are you already awake?” Ser Gwayne questioned as he held the girl by her arms to steady herself. Elinora was brought out of her reprieve as she was met with the knight’s blue-green eyes. “I…I—” She stuttered, fearing if she told Ser Gwayne where she came from, he too would frown at her actions just as his nephew had done. 

Gwayne passed his gaze at the girl, a velvet pouch in her hands with a few specs of crumbs and a part of her dress damp and muddied. “You were feeding ducks, weren’t you?” Gwayne smiled, but it was not a cruel smile. “Yes,” She said quietly, making the knight smile fondly. “Well, I’m glad to learn that your stay in the capitol had not disrupted your customs back home,” the knight smiled. 

Aemond had managed to follow the girl again, a few meters away, as he eavesdropped upon her and his uncle’s conversation. 

“I’m certain you have entrusted the ducks and swan’s feeding to the groundskeeper?” Ser Gwayned questioned as he linked his arm with the girl’s. “I have. And Gerald had just written to inform me that the baby ducklings hatched!” She said, her mind now forgetting about her encounter with Prince Aemond. “Though it’s a shame I wasn’t able to witness them hatching,” She muttered as her shadow followed her. 

“You miss home, don’t you?” Ser Gwayne observed, seeing melancholy in her eyes. “I do,” she said. That little pond and the gardens in the Red Keep were the only speck of Highgarden she could cling to. 

Aemond felt an odd twisting in his stomach as he realized why the girl was feeding the ducks and swans. She only wished to recreate a version of Highgarden in the Red Keep, but the prince was too calloused to realize it and only shamed her for her actions. 

He trailed Elinora and his uncle further. Watching how effortlessly it was for his uncle to converse with the girl. Why couldn’t he hold a conversation without offending her? Or anyone, for that matter? Aemond froze as he locked eyes with his uncle, a curious look on his face as he glanced at his nephew. Ser Gwayne did not miss the peck of white upon the prince’s black trousers, bread crumbs clinging to the fabric, and the speck of mud on his knee. Aemond gritted his jaw as he was assessed and forced himself to cease trailing the two and finally return to his custom. 

“You’re frustrated,” Ser Criston remarked as the prince grunted when he missed to hit the knight. “I am not,” Aemond gritted as he once again returned to his attack position, but the knight shook his head, manner lax. “You clearly are— now tell me why or not, just as long as you do better in combat.” The knight suggested as he wielded his weapon in his hands. Aemond charged once more, but his technique was sloppy, and the knight was quick to dodge any of his attacks. 

“Ready to talk now?” The knight teased as Aemond had fallen onto the gravel-covered ground, causing a bloodied bruise to form on his chin; he simply ignored it. “I had told you it is nothing!” Aemond insisted and wiped away the blood on his chin with his sleeve, but Ser Criston only shook his head. “That shall suffice for now. You may leave and only return when you are truly ready to fight,” The knight dismissed his pupil, and Aemond no longer argued as he, too, had grown tired of being bested. 

Aemond walked about the keep again, trying to calm down his frustrations that he could not precisely articulate the cause of. He would like to blame Lady Elinora, but even he knew the girl was not to blame for his state. It was an internal struggle that he inflicted upon himself. 

Aemond passed the pond once more, seeing as Elinora sneaked her way to the edge of the pond to feed the ducklings once again. Aemond sighed, trying to go onward, but as always, his feet carried him toward the girl’s direction. Aemond once again announced his presence by making his reflection known, and just like hours before, the girl screamed, startled. Aemond sighed as he took hold of Elinora again, preventing her from falling into the water. 

“Would you please stop doing that!” She cried as she clutched her chest, never loving being startled. Her brother often did that to her when they were growing up. Waiting for her by the halls or her room, hiding and making his presence known with a loud, bellowing scream just to frighten her. Before Aemond could speak, Elinora removed his hold. “I know! I’m feeding the ducks again, and quite frankly, my prince, I do not care if I am making them dependent and… and fat, as you say. It is cruel to let them attack one another just for food when I can simply give them what they need!” Elinora burst out, her face and neck growing a bit red at the end of her outburst, and Aemond bit his tongue as he found a speck of amusement as it would seem he had agitated the girl. 

Aemond let out a quiet, amused breath as he parted his lips to speak once more, but Elinora spoke first. “You’re bleeding,” She said, eyes widening in concern, which Aemond was taken back. “It is just a cut. It’s no—“ Aemond ceased speaking as the girl quickly retrieved a handkerchief from her pocket and stood to her toes to gently place it on his wound. “You’ll need gauze, Your Highness— it must be disinfected,” Elinora fretted as she had always tended to her wounds as well as her brother’s because if her parents came to know of it, they surely would be chastised. 

“It’s just a scrape, my lady,” Aemond explained, but Elinora ignored his words as she was quick to take hold of his arm and drag him inside the castle. The small cut on the prince’s wound seemed to make Elinora forget all the frustrations she had harbored for him the past few weeks. “I am fine, Elinora; it is just a scrap— you are overreacting.” The prince grunted as his eye glanced toward the girl’s hand that was firmly clasped around his arm, which he then removed and switched her hold to his hand. 

“It may be just a scrap, my prince, but it could still get infected! Believe me, you would not want that.” She muttered as she led him to the maester’s tower. Aemond frowned as he noticed that the maesters that usually littered the tower were nowhere to be seen. Aemond felt the girl let go of his hand and made him sit on a chair. Aemond looked around the room, not entirely certain what was happening. Just a brief moment ago, Elinora was frustrated with him, and now she was searching cupboards and cabinets to find the necessary items to tend to his wound. He truly did not understand her. 

“The gauze is there,” Aemond pointed up to the cupboard, and Elinora was quick to retrieve the gauze needed along with vinegar to disinfect the wound and honey to soothe it. “You have done this before, haven’t you?” the prince observed as he lowered his hand, which was clutching the girl’s handkerchief to his wound. “My brother often gets into scrapes whilst he trains… or when he ventures into town,” Elinora explained. As she was locked inside the castle walls, Edward was permitted to go galivanting around the town, even at the darkest point of the night. Something that Elinora was completely jealous of, but as he explained to her, the only reason he was allowed to do such a thing was because he was a man; a bit unfair in Elinora’s eyes. 

“What had caused your wound, if I may ask, my prince?” Elinora inquired as she dabbed honey upon it, her nose in a scrunch as she never grew accustomed to seeing a wound up close. She hated blood and violence. Aemond blinked, quickly thinking up a story that would not disparage him. “I…I was training, and it would seem my sparing partner had grown frustrated at me and aimed to strike me while my back was turned— luckily, I was agile enough to act and only leave with just a small scrape.” Aemond lied, but he was relieved as the girl quickly believed his words. 

“That’s quite… cowardly,” She muttered as she cut to size the gauze. “Yes, quite,” Aemond agreed and stilled as he felt her touch on his chin, moving his head to look up as she positioned the gauze. Aemond met her eyes, the same warmness he felt the night before spreading in his chest. She was closer than she had been before, her scent now more pronounced, and Aemond could see a few specks of gold in her jade eyes. The prince was overwhelmed and quickly turned away. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt you?” Elinora fretted as the prince bucked away from her. Aemond gulped, “Yes, best be careful,” He said, forcing his voice to be stoic. “I apologize, my prince… but I’m almost finished,” Elinora said, quickly bandaging his wound. When she had, she stepped away, wary about the proximity they had. With her situated between the parted legs of the prince as she tended to his wound. 

“I’ll advise you to change the gauze before you go to bed, my prince, and perhaps dab honey upon it so it would heal faster,” Elinora suggested, and Aemond could not return his gaze to the girl as he felt the warming in his chest odd. His hand fisted the handkerchief she gave him, and the prince forced himself to nod.

 Elinora chewed on her lips and let out a breath, “Good day, my prince,” she curtsied and left, no longer waiting for his thanks, for it was ridiculous for her to expect such gratitude from the prince. Aemond finally raised his gaze just to witness the girl practically float out of the room. 

Aemond rested his back on the chair. A bit dazed at what had happened. How could she be so kind? Tend to his wound so much gentleness and attention even though he had scorned her just earlier that day. Aemond turned his gaze to the handkerchief that was still in his hands. The soft white cloth with the delicate embroidery of her first name’s initial and a blue butterfly now stained with specks of his blood. Aemond’s hand slowly brought it closer to his face, smelling her scent once more. He wanted to take another whiff, but as he realized what he was doing, how he was savoring her scent, his eyes widened, and he quickly tucked the cloth in his pocket to prevent him from doing such a thing again. 

“The duck’s eggs in grandmother’s lake have hatched,” Elinora remarked as there was silence in their familial supper. She hoped that the small information that was written to her by their ground’s keeper that had brought her joy would at least remove the tenseness in the air of their supper. “That’s nice,” Her father remarked with a small smile, and Elinora beamed upon him, hoping it would remove the edge that all the members of her family harbored. 

“Is… Is anything the matter?” She dared to ask, trying to capture the gaze of her brother, who had been staring at the peas for the majority of the hour. She watched as her family exchanged glances. “Your brother had seen you with Prince Aemond, alone, unescorted.” Her mother informed, making her brows raise as her brother bestowed upon her a stony expression. 

“Oh,” She said, as it would seem her brother had shared his concern with their parents. “I was feeding the ducks and swans in the keep’s pond, and the prince suddenly came. It’s not as if I invited him to join me there,” She explained as her fingers fiddled with the ends of her hair in nervousness.  “I saw you two running down the halls, hand in hand!” Elinora’s brother then burst out, shocking her with his accusatory tone. “Calm down, Edward, your sister is not on trial,” Their father warned. Elinora felt tears coming into her eyes as she was surprised that her brother would grow cross with her. Never once had Edward raised his voice when addressing Elinora, and now that he did, she felt a pit in her stomach. 

“I… I just had noticed that— that the prince was bleeding. I had just urged him to have it disinfected because he had no care… but it might get infected. I meant no harm, brother… I just thought it was the right thing to do,” Elinora muttered as her father held her hand from whom she sat next to. “See, Edward, nothing like you were insinuating was afoot, my son.” Their mother remarked. “Elinora knows what is wrong and right, do you not, my darling? We must trust her.” 

“I do trust her! It is these men! We do not know their true nature— they might take advantage of her!” Edward insisted and watched as their parents changed looks once more and as his sister only stared upon her lap, willing her tears not to shed. “You have a point, Edward… but you cannot accuse these men of something that has not yet happened.” 

“So you will wait until it does?!” Edward bellowed, but he was quickly challenged by Lord Tyrell. “Enough! We appreciate your concern for your sister, but you shall not raise your voice against us! Elinora will be fine, and she would tell us if any of the lords or princes, as you insist, would act untoward upon her!” Edward huffed and stomped away as he realized their once over-protective parents could no longer see reason. 

“I apologize for your brother, my darling,” Her father sighed and petted her hair. “I truly did not mean to upset him… and I did try to do as he told and avoid the men of court but—but the prince was bleeding and—“ Her mother hushed her as she stood from her chair and cupped her daughter’s cheeks. “We know, Elinora… and we do trust you. We know that you know what is wrong and right. You are cautious and calculated, that is all we could ask for,” Your mother said softly. “Now, go on, finish your meal so you can rest for the night.” 

Edward walked the keep halls, trying to be absolved of his ire. He held no ill will for his sister but rather the serpents surrounding her. “Good evening, Lord Edward,” Prince Aemond then appeared as he passed through the guest halls on his way to his own chambers. Edward gritted his jaw and saw the wound of the prince, carefully bandaged by his sister. “My prince,” He greeted bitterly. And Aemond frowned to himself at the tone of the lord but carried on to his way to the royal wing. 

Just as he stepped foot in the royal wing’s hall, he caught sight of Elinora on her way to her chambers. They locked eyes, and Aemond moved to speak with her, but she scurried her way into her chambers, leaving the prince alone in the halls. 

Something was off that evening, the prince thought. The usually cheery and well-mannered children of House Tyrell seemed to be sullen and dismissive. “Hello, brother,” Aemond suddenly at Daeron’s voice, the prince having been preoccupied the whole day as he went hunting in the woods with their eldest brother. “Where’s Aegon?” Aemond asked, glancing towards where the girl once stood before fully turning to meet the eye of his brother. 

“Well… I think you would know where,” Daeron said sheepishly. “Hm,” Aemond hummed in disapproval. “You have a wound,” Daeorn remarked as he stepped closer to his brother to inspect the bandage, but Ameond backed away, not used to having anyone in his personal space. “Did Elinora bandage that?” Daeron asked, his brother quickly frowning at his question. How would he know? 

“What?” Aemond bit as Daeron tried to inspect his bandages once more, but Aemond shielded it away from his gaze. “Did Elinora bandage your wound?” Daeron asked once more. “She always has a distinct cut when she bandages— there's somewhat of a heart shape in the gauze,” Daeron muttered as he followed wherever his brother turned his head. “Best dab that with honey, it’ll heal faster— or better yet, ask her for that honey with tea tree oil. It healed a nasty wound of mine in less than a fortnight.” Daeron informed, and Aemond frowned as his brother walked onward. “Well, come on now, lest you want that wound to fester,” Daeron remarked, and Aemond followed him as he knocked upon Elinora’s door. 

“I am fine; it’ll be gone by the next day.” Aemond gritted as they waited for the girl. “Nonsense, brother, I heard from Ser Cole how you… what do they say now? Ate dust in the tiltyard.” Daeron smiled, and before Aemond could reply, the door opened and revealed Elinora in her robe, her hair already undone. “Good evening, my princes,” She uttered in surprise. “Good evening, Eli,” Daeron smiled. Eli? The prince frowned at the way his brother addressed her. 

“Might I help you with something?” She asked, quickly glancing at Prince Aemond, who had a scowl on his face. “Yes, well… I see you had tended to my brother’s wound— very kind of you, but would you please give him that tea-tree-infused honey you have? We would be most grateful… wouldn’t we, brother?” Daeron said and nudged Aemond’s side. “Yes, quite so,” He gritted out, and Elinora was surprised as the prince actually agreed. 

“Well, of course,” Elinora said and expected the princes to wait by the hall as she retrieved what they asked for, but just as old habits began to shine through, Daeron welcomed himself in the girl’s chambers. Aemond tried to take hold of his brother’s collar, but Daeron quickly moved away from his brother’s hold. “You certainly bestowed your touch upon this chamber,” Daeron remarked as he looked about the room while Elinora looked through her vanity for a particular crystal jar. 

Aemond ran his gaze through the room, the once bleak spear chambers now had a warmness in them as Elinora lodged within them. “Oh, you brought Catherine the Caterpillar!” Daeron exclaimed as he took hold of a pillow in the girl’s feathered bed. It was just a regular decorative pillow, but it was tattered and had black beads sown into it to mimic eyes as well as two antennas. “Remember when your brother convinced you he could turn this into a butterfly if you gave him your desserts,” Daeron mussed, Aemond turning to Elinora to witness red creep to her cheeks through the mirror. 

“I did not eat sweets for two moons,” She remarked and finally turned with a crystal jar in her hands. “Here you are, my prince,” She smiled and handed the jar to Aemond, who swallowed thickly as their fingers brushed once more. He had never seen her with her hair down. Her dark, auburn locks were always neatly braided, and now a few locks perfectly framed her face, the curls now looser and a bit disheveled. 

Elinora chewed on her cheeks as the prince only stared at her, feeling warmness further in her cheeks as she felt him stare at her state. Her hair was yet to be brushed, and the only thing between her and her shift was a robe. “What do we say when one helps us, brother?” Daeron then interjected as his brother only remained silent. Aemond turned to his brother, a glare in his eye. “Thank you,” he gritted out, but his eye was pointed at Daeron, a warning in his tone. 

“That’s correct! But do not thank me, brother, I am not the one who bandaged you.” Daeron grinned as Aemond’s hold on the jar tightened to a point he thought it might crack. “You’re welcome, my prince,” Elinora quickly said, saving Aemond from further doing something he did not wish. As the words left her lips, two silver princes turned to her. “But if you would… I must be getting to bed,” She smiled, and Aemond quickly took hold of his brother so they could exit the girl’s chambers. 

“Good night, your highnesses,” Elinora curtsied, and Daeron bid her ‘good night,’ and Prince Aemond gave a nod. 

When the door closed, Aemond turned to his brother, who still had a teasing grin on his lips. “What are you doing!? You do not barge into and welcome yourself inside a lady’s chambers!” Aemond scolded, “Calm down, it’s only Elinora. I often do that in Highgarden; no one seems to mind,” Daeron laughed as his brother’s stoic facade was broken. “Even so! You offer her to scandal!” 

“Scandal? Nonsense! Everyone knows how virtuous Elinora is… and besides, however pretty she is, she is just simply not my kind of woman— do not get me wrong, I love her, but it’s the love of a brother rather than a man,”  Aemond grew confused at his brother’s words, until now, he was certain that Daeron harbored some attraction for the girl. 

“So you mean to tell me that you are not attracted to her… at all?” Aemond questioned, and Daeron nodded. “Gods, no! I see her as a sibling— and not the way our houses sees siblings.” Daeron clarified, and Aemond nodded in understanding. “You, however… I do nothing think you could say the same.” Daeron grinned, watching as his brother paused in the halls, taken aback by his words. “What do you mean by that?” Aemond gritted out, ready to deny whatever his brother would utter. 

Daeron sighed and smiled, “Brother, I grew up with Elinora— had to fend off men who vied for attention, and all of them always had the same look in their eyes when they looked upon her… and another look when she would smile upon them— you have the same look, Aemond. Hide it and repress it as you would; I can see it plainly. You like her.” 

“I do not! I…I— What you speak of is ridiculous! How da—“ Daeron was left amused as his brother ranted out his defense. “Your reaction is only proving me right, Aemond.” Daeron shook his head; Aemond stared at his brother, his eye twitching in irritation. “Do not fret, brother… you may have the same reactions as the others, but I have never seen Elinora interact with you as she had with the others,” Daeron consoled, and as if immediately, the rage on Aemond’s face turned to curiosity.     “What?” 

Daeron laughed at how quickly his brother’s mood turned. “Though men had always been vying for her attention, she never gave them a sparing glance— would not even converse with them with small talk unless she was quite literally forced to. But with you… I do not think I can say the same. Which is why I forced you two to dance the other night— Elinora never dances with anyone but me, Edward, or uncle, yet she still danced with you without being forced.” 

“What are you saying, Daeron, say it plainly.” Aemond urged, but his brother only let out an amused breath. “But where’s the fun in that? And I think you already know what I’m saying… come now, brother— they say you are the scholar of us siblings, surely you can figure out what is plain to our eyes.” Aemond only stared at his brother, the words resting on the tip of his tongue, but he refused to utter them. 

Daeron sighed, “You like her.” He stated. “And do not hold me to it, but I’m pretty certain that she likes you too, at least to some degree— you know what, I’m not actually certain. You have been a point of irritation for her.” Daeron laughed. “But on a more positive note, no one has actually irritated Elinora in the way you have, so… congratulations, brother.” Daeron smiled and finally left his brother in the halls with Aemond standing alone as another confirmed what he suspected and quite frankly feared. 

He liked Elinora… a girl whose hand was already promised to another. And Elinora liked him, they think. No one was actually certain, but the first revelation was enough to confound the ever-certain and stoic One-Eyed Prince. 

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa @summerposie

[babyblue711]

Surrender

(Modern AU) Aegon II Targaryen x Female!Reader x Aemond Targaryen - Part 2 (read Part 1 Here) Summary: Having spent the week at the Targaryen's countryside estate, you find yourself pulled into an unexpected tryst when Aemond confronts you about your mixed signals. Words: 5K

Warnings: NSFW, Sexual Content 18+, Smut, Language, Alcohol, Threesome, Lots of Sexual Shenanigans A/N: As requested by popular demand, here is Part 2! I think this was the most fun I've ever had when writing a fic. (And please, for the banner, let's pretend Ewan has one eye for Aemond's sake 😅) I hope you all enjoy! 🔥

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Various forms of tension now fill the house and you can’t help but feel responsible. There is a magnetic attraction that lingers in the air between you and Aegon, but your playful text to Aemond had clearly not been well-received; he had never bothered responding and was now resolutely ignoring you. In return, you mirrored his behavior, determined not to let it affect you.

On Sunday morning, Helaena approaches you with an enticing offer: to extend your stay for the entire week. With your laptop in tow, the prospect of working remotely from their opulent estate is exciting, especially since it means you can continue spending time with Aegon.

Luckily, neither Helaena nor Daeron knows about your hookup with him. For the rest of the week, he visits your bed each night and it is the best sex you’ve ever had in your life. He’s a generous lover, prioritizing your pleasure before his own and his attentiveness afterwards is always exceptional, although he never spends the full night with you. Mindful of Aemond’s text message, you try to tone down your lusty moans of rapture, but you still feel like he knows what’s going on regardless.

On the last full day before you are set to return to the city, you and Aegon make plans to go for another trail ride. However, after lunch he starts to complain of a stomach ache leading Aemond to step in and offer to take you riding instead. This unexpected turn of events leaves you feeling momentarily stunned, given Aemond has been doing a very good job pretending you didn’t exist up until that moment. Despite your reservations, you agree to Aemond's proposal, still feeling a little wary of his sudden change of heart. 

“You can ride on Sunfyre this time,” Aegon groans from the couch, referring to his grey gelding, as you and Aemond head out the door. 

At first you are unsure of what to expect, but soon find yourself embarking on another memorable riding adventure, only this time with Aemond. It quickly becomes apparent that he shares your love for horses and the great outdoors, if not even more passionately than his brother. You make a bit of small talk as you ride, but most of the time, the gentle plodding of your horses’ hooves and the swish of their tails are the only things that can be heard.

The day was hot and humid, though cooler in the shade of the woods along the trail. A few miles into your ride, you come across a babbling stream with crystal water and decide to stop to let the horses rest and take a much needed drink. 

“Thank you for letting me ride Vhagar this week,” you say sincerely, taking a refreshing gulp of water from your canteen, “She’s a good horse.” Aemond offers a small smile, affectionately patting his mare on the neck. 

“No problem,” he replies casually, “She seems to like you and, to be honest, she doesn’t warm up to most people. Typically bucks them off within a few minutes,” he glances up to gauge your reaction. “I figured that’s why Aegon had you take her out, so he could laugh when you fell off,” he adds nonchalantly as if he didn’t just throw Aegon under the bus. 

Your expression falters briefly, causing you to second guess your perception of Aegon if what Aemond is saying is true but you quickly regain your composure.

“Fortunately, that didn’t happen,” you manage to say as Sunfyre starts to paw, splashing water everywhere and soaking your boots. You urge him from the stream before he decides to roll in the cool water and Aemond follows on Vhagar; you swear you think you see a small, smug smile tug on the corners of his lips. 

As you head back home, the mood seems to lighten and you finally feel like you have a small breakthrough with Aemond. Unlike his brother, Aemond’s nature is more naturally reserved, but you are growing to appreciate his calm demeanor in contrast to Aegon's chaotic behavior. He isn’t as quick to laugh or make jokes either, but you manage to coax him into opening up by asking about his interests, particularly books. He eagerly shares insights into the history of the Targaryen family and their estate, keeping the conversation lively until you reach the barn.

You hand Sunfyre off to the attending groom once more, feeling hot and sticky from your ride, eager to get back to the house to take a cool shower. Aemond falls into step beside you. 

“So you and Hel are headed back to the city tomorrow?” Aemond inquires casually.

“Yeah we are, have to get back to the grind,” you say with a sigh, a note of reluctance in your tone. The week spent away from the city, immersed in fresh air and nature, had been incredibly rejuvenating and you weren’t ready to leave just yet. Fortunately, Helaena is also your flatmate, and the prospect of returning to hectic city life isn’t as daunting when you have a familiar companion by your side.

“What are your plans?” you ask him in return, aware of his involvement in the family business and his regular trips to the city too. 

“I have a flight to catch to New York tomorrow. Work trip. It’s always hard to leave Vhagar…” he trails off with a slight hedge to his voice and you sense he may have more to share, but something seems to be holding him back. 

“Hmm,” you murmur noncommittally, letting the moment ride out, feeling if you were patient, he would speak. It works a little too well. He takes a deep breath before he begins. 

“That text you sent a few days back…” he starts and your heart instantly leaps. Oh god, here we go, you think, now deeply regretting how shameless you had behaved in the moment.

“Did you mean it?” he asks curiously, catching you completely off guard. You had thought he was about to scold you and you certainly didn’t expect him to be inquisitive instead. Your previous words seem to swim in your mind: [Join us next time, then?]  

Did he think you had been serious? You really had only meant it to tease. Regret bubbles in your stomach. 

“I still hear you every night,” he says quietly, gently, not like a reprimand at all, and you continue to feel more unsettled with each passing moment. You blush, embarrassed that you were having this conversation in broad daylight with Aemond of all people.

“I’m sorry, Aemond, truly, I…I tried to be more quiet…” you stammer, trailing off as he takes you by the arm, turning you to stop and face him. You stare up into his crystal blue eye, so much lighter than his brother’s, noticing how much taller he is than Aegon too. Up close, his beauty is so breathtaking, the leather eyepatch that covers his left eye only serves to complement his perfect appearance and intrigue you further. Aemond never spoke about what happened to his eye and you were too intimidated to ever ask. 

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off abruptly. “Your offer, did you mean it?” he asks more insistently and you feel like you could shrink under the intensity of his stare. Did you really want to have a threesome with him and Aegon? Cowardly, you opt to take the easy way out.

“It would be up to Aegon, I suppose,” you manage to choke out, feeling confident that Aegon would never agree. The way he possessively devours your body, like he is trying to consume your very being when you are together makes you think he isn’t the type to share.

Aemond nods, seeming satisfied with that answer as he abruptly resumes walking back to the house and you can barely keep up with his long strides. What the hell was that about? 

Feeling refreshed from your cold shower, you open your bathroom door, still wrapped in only a towel to see Aegon sprawled across your bed, giving you a calculated stare. Your heart skips a beat at his unexpected presence in your bedroom and he has a look in his eye you don’t think you’ve seen before. 

“So,” he says lightly and gets right to the point, “You want to have a threesome with Aemond?” 

You gape like a fish out of water as you backtrack. “I - I didn’t say that. Aemond mentioned it to me on the way back to the house,” you mumble, trying not to feel like you’re in trouble.

“Oh really?” he raises an eyebrow, glancing down at his phone, scrolling as if he’s looking for something, “What’s this then?” 

He holds out his phone and shows you a screenshot of the message you had sent to Aemond earlier in the week, inviting him to join you and Aegon. Aemond clearly has shown Aegon proof of your “offer”, the traitor. Clearly, your lighthearted jest has taken an unexpected turn and signals have been crossed between these two brothers. 

Aegon cannot contain a look of triumph as your guilty eyes flash back to his face. Before you can explain more thoroughly he smirks, “I didn’t know you were also into my brother…”

“Aegon, it was just a joke, I was teasing him,” you try to clarify your intentions and prove you aren’t trying to hide anything, now thoroughly wishing you had been this direct with Aemond too. You didn’t foresee it coming back to haunt you like this. 

“Really? Because that’s not what Aemond said,” Aegon counters, “So do you want to? It would be hot watching my brother fuck you,” he adds provocatively and your breath catches in your chest at his words. 

So many emotions whirl through your mind in an instant. Shock. Guilt. Bewilderment. Confusion. Hurt that he would give you up so easily to another man. Excitement. Lust. Desire. Simultaneously, another thought tugs at your heart: a mixture of determination and defiance. You had been so sure that Aegon would be the one to tell Aemond ‘no’ and you were starting to question his attachment to you, if indeed there had been one at all. If he was so willing to share you with someone else, perhaps you should make him regret this decision. The thought of making Aegon insanely jealous ignites a spark of mischief within your chest.

“Fine,” you say coolly, lifting your chin. “I’d love to fuck your brother,” you taunt seductively, pretending not to care more deeply about Aegon than you do and deliberately trying to push his buttons, but Aegon only gives you a devilish grin. 

“Brilliant. I’ll tell him then,” and with that, he springs off your bed, his earlier stomach ache seemingly forgotten, and bounds out the door in search of Aemond. 

You were a nervous wreck the whole rest of the day. What had you just agreed to? You curse your need for revenge on Aegon. 

That evening, you opt to quietly observe Aemond, feeling a need to familiarize yourself with the person that you would soon be sleeping with. While Aegon could be abundantly charming when he wanted to be, Aemond was simply grace incarnate. You pay particular attention to his interactions with each sibling: he is tolerant of Aegon’s antics, patient with the youthfulness of his younger brother, Daeron, and generously kind to his sister, listening to her discussions about various bugs with genuine interest, as if her words are the most interesting thing in the world. Coupled with his ethereal beauty, you start to question that Aemond might actually be the better of the two brothers. Boyfriend material flashes through your mind. 

At last, you bid the group goodnight for the evening and retire to your room. As soon as you shut your door, you sprint to the bathroom, rushing to brush your teeth, apply more deodorant and fix your hair, trying to make yourself as presentable as possible for perfect, proper Aemond. You aren’t sure why you were doing this; why do you care what Aemond thinks of you so much?

Finished with your “prep”, you put on your usual pajamas, wishing you had brought something a little sexier than an oversized t-shirt and shorts and sit on your bed to wait. Soon a soft knock comes from your door and you know instantly it’s Aemond. Aegon never knocks.

“Come in!” you manage to squeak out, voice unusually high, feeling nervous. Aemond enters, looking entirely unruffled, carrying something behind his back. He approaches the bed and reveals his surprise, holding out an expensive bottle of champagne. 

“I figured there’s no hurry,” he remarks casually with a shrug as he opens the bottle and takes a gulp, handing it to you. Feeling a bit unconventional drinking expensive champagne straight from the bottle, you take a sip, enjoying the tangy liquid that runs cool down your throat. 

You both sit in the middle of your large bed facing each other, talking softly while taking turns swigging from the bottle. Soon, you find yourself relaxing and enjoying his company, forgetting that Aegon was supposed to be joining you. You didn’t even wonder where he was. 

When the bottle is empty, you start to feel properly tipsy as Aemond lays a large, warm hand on your leg. You stiffen instantly, unable to help yourself, glancing up into his intense, one-eyed stare.

“I just want to ask, one more time, if you’re sure you want to do this,” he says with soft sincerity. 

This is it. Your way out. You didn’t have to sleep with Aemond. However, you were finding yourself more and more drawn to him as you discovered his admirable traits. You believed deep down that Aemond was genuinely kind, one of those "nice guys," so to speak. Moreover, defiance still pounds in your heart at the thought of making Aegon jealous, if he decided to show up at this point.

“Yeah, I want to Aemond, truly,” you respond genuinely, placing your hand overtop of his and giving it a reassuring squeeze. He nods and seems to relax, his sensuous mouth curling into a true smile.

“Should we start without him?” you whisper, alluding to Aegon. 

“Yeah, fuck him, I’m not waiting,” Aemond replies boldly before grabbing you by the ankle and pulling you across the bed so you’re right next to him. You slide easily on the soft satin comforter and giggle in delight. Aemond’s lips meet yours and you sigh into his mouth as you melt into him immediately. 

Aemond's kiss ignites a fire within you; while you considered Aegon a skilled kisser, a few moments with Aemond had you wondering who was better. His kiss is effortless, your lips fitting together flawlessly, his gentle tongue playfully exploring your mouth, as you take turns sucking on each other’s bottom lip. You moan softly as you instinctively grasp his hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer to you. Already you can feel your core getting slick with desire and an ache forming at the apex of your thighs.

Aemond maneuvers you to lay on your back and settles overtop of you, lightly pressing you under his weight and you surrender once more to a new man, but this one you think might be more worthy than the last. Still clothed, you are fully immersed in battling his tongue when you hear a low whistle.

“You fuckers started without me,” Aegon growls, low and deep, and you jump, startled since you hadn’t heard him come in. You break the kiss with Aemond, turning to look at Aegon standing beside the bed, seeming completely unfazed seeing his younger brother on top of the girl he’s been fucking all week. Aemond ignores him completely as he kisses your exposed neck, pretending like there’s been no interruption. You notice Aegon is holding his own bottle of champagne and a bag of popcorn, now grinning like a barn cat that has just caught the biggest mouse; he moves to sit in the corner and waves his hand for you to continue. 

You roll your eyes and return your attention to Aemond, who is now sucking a hickey onto your collarbone. You decide to get things moving before you lose your nerve now that you have an audience. You slide Aemond's shirt off, taking a moment to appreciate the contours of his fit physique by tracing your fingers across his chest and along the defined muscles of his back. It's almost like a choreographed dance as you and Aemond smoothly help each other out of your clothes, moving with such synchronized ease that it feels like you're perfectly attuned to each other.

As you remove his shorts, his cock springs free, large and heavy against his thigh. Taking him in hand, you give him a few experimental pumps, making him grunt appreciatively; you find yourself absentmindedly wondering who is bigger, the Targaryen men are clearly blessed in this particular department. 

You try to ignore the sounds of Aegon chewing popcorn as you and Aemond settle back onto the bed, completely unclothed now. Aemond doesn’t seem to mind being naked in front of his brother and you take his lead as your heart flutters nervously, still mindful of having a witness. He bites down onto the fleshy part of your breast, sucking with enthusiasm and you don’t even care about the mark you know it’ll leave. He moves on and takes one of your nipples into his mouth next, rolling the other between his fingers as he works his way down your body, finally settling between your thighs and licking your soaked pussy like a lollipop; you both groan with pleasure. You spread your legs wide for him and start to knead your own breasts, putting your body on display for Aegon, feigning more confidence than you felt in the moment. You glance over and see him watching you and Aemond hungrily. 

Aemond’s lips lock around your bud and he sucks harshly causing you to buck your hips into his face and cry aloud, your breath picking up as pleasure courses like electricity through your body. You feel him slip a finger inside of you followed by another and he crooks them against your sweet spot all while continuing to suck on your bud like he is trying to slurp the thickest milkshake. 

It’s not long before your thighs are shaking around his head as you wail in ecstasy, your orgasm ripping through your core, pussy clenching tightly down onto Aemond’s fingers. You no longer notice Aegon’s presence and you secretly hope he’s burning with jealousy at the way Aemond is unraveling you thoroughly. Aegon clears this throat as you come down from your high and return to your senses.

“I want her on top, Aemond,” he commands from the dark corner of the room. You think Aemond will refuse as he isn’t the type that usually takes orders, and especially not from Aegon, but he lays on his back and positions you to hover above him. Achingly slow, still sensitive from your climax, you spear yourself on his hard, thick cock, sinking inch by delicious inch, savoring the stretch of your soft velvet walls. You breathe through your nose as you try to relax and welcome Aemond into your body, joining as one.

You both groan in unison when you finally sit flush against him, his cock buried deep. He gives you a moment to adjust and lets you set the pace. Knowing Aegon is seated behind you, you lean forward slightly, bracing your hands against Aemond’s chest, arching your back as you ride his cock, letting Aegon get the best view of Aemond’s thick length sliding in and out of your tight pussy, no longer feeling insecure about being watched. In this position, your sensitive bud rubs consistently against Aemond’s pubic bone and you can already feel another orgasm mounting deep in your belly. You toss your hair and moan loudly in pleasure, uttering filthy words to Aemond, knowing full well Aegon can hear you too. You want to leave him without any doubt just how much you are enjoying his brother. 

Beneath you, Aemond looks like a fallen angel. His one eye is hooded and dark with lust, the angles of his exquisite face are sharp in the low light, his sensual lips are parted slightly as he pants softly while you move up and down on his length. His luminous blonde hair is splay out on the bed, creating a sort of halo around his head.  You don’t think you’ve ever seen anything more beautiful in your life.

Spurred on by your passionate words of lust, Aemond grasps your hips and picks up the pace, fingers digging into the soft flesh and you hope for bruises. Taking control, he fucks up into you from below, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. You start mumbling nonstop again, like you always do when you’re about to cum.

“Yeah? You gonna cum on my cock, sweet girl?” Aemond says in a low growl as he watches your tits bounce above him. 

“A-Aemond, don’t stop,” is all you can manage as your peak crashes over you with the force of a hurricane and Aemond groans as your pussy tightens like a vice around him. He rides out your climax, sustaining your pleasure as you soar into oblivion. Finally, feeling like jelly, you topple off of Aemond and onto the soft bed, breathing heavily and trying to recover from your second mind-blowing orgasm. 

“My turn,” suddenly, Aegon stands on the edge of the bed, totally naked and stroking his hard, thick cock. Now that the two are visually out for comparison, you think Aemond’s might be a tad longer, but they are both just as thick.

Your brain feels fuzzy, swirling with endorphins from the rush of your climax. Despite your haze, excitement pulses through your chest when you see that Aegon has finally come to play, hoping he got tired of watching Aemond fuck you so thoroughly. Although being with two men at once is entirely new territory, you trust them completely to take care of you properly and not abuse their positions of power. With a new sense of confidence, adrenaline surges through your veins and you decide to take charge.

“Lay on the bed,” you direct at Aegon and he obeys you instantly, climbing onto the bed and laying his head on your pillow. You crawl over to him, swaying your hips seductively and meeting his dark blue gaze.

“So, did you enjoy watching that?” you purr innocently while taking his cock in your hand and squeezing. 

“More than you know,” he manages to respond before you lower your head and take him in your mouth. Maintaining eye contact with him, you put on a bit of a show as your tongue teases the sensitive tip.

Realizing Aemond is watching from afar, you look over your shoulder at him while continuing to pump Aegon with your other hand. You consider him for a moment, impressed with his endurance as he still hasn’t cum himself, despite riding out your orgasm while buried deep within your body. 

“Aemond, I need you too,” you whine, tossing your hair over your shoulder and bringing your ass in the air, giving him a pointed look; his lips lift in a devilish smirk. 

As Aemond comes to kneel behind you, there is a kinetic sort of energy that passes between the brothers as their eyes meet and you feel a shift as the energy in the room suddenly becomes charged. The hair stands up on the back of your neck and you aren’t entirely sure why; all you know is that you suddenly feel like a lamb caught between two apex predators. Undaunted, the thought makes you chuckle; Aemond has already begun to pick you apart with absurd precision and you feel ready for more. 

You take Aegon into your mouth again as you feel Aemond spread your ass cheeks apart with a firm grip, taking a moment to admire the view before re-entering you from behind, moving slowly to help you adjust to this new angle. You moan in pleasure as Aemond’s cock hits your sweet spot perfectly in this position. Aegon grunts as your moans reverberate around his dick and you hear him whisper “yeah, that’s it,” as your head bobs along his thick length. With one hand wrapped around the rest of Aegon’s girth that you can’t fit into your mouth, the other grips his thigh, trying to hold yourself steady as Aemond’s hips snap roughly into your backside. 

“She really does have the most perfect cunt, brother,” Aemond rumbles, grunting in appreciation as he watches his fat cock slide in and out of you, glistening with your arousal. “You were right.”

“I told you she could be our perfect little slut,” Aegon groans in agreement and gives you a dark smile. You try to ignore the fact that they are talking about you like you aren’t even there. Despite your senses being fully enveloped in a primal sort of lust, you feel a small prick of unease. How much did they discuss about you before today? Have they planned this all along?

You hardly have time to consider further before Aegon takes you by the hair and earnestly starts to fuck your mouth, spit dribbling down your chin as he thrusts in and out. You hollow out your cheeks and try your best to take him, choking at times as his cock touches the back of your throat, all while Aemond continues a steady pace fucking your pussy from behind. Tears prick your eyes and Aegon wipes them away with his thumb, murmuring “good girl” softly and encouraging you to keep going. You watch as his abs contract in pleasure as your tongue swirls around the sensitive tip; you find it becoming more difficult to focus on Aegon as Aemond brings his hand around and starts to play with your bud, rubbing tight, fast circles. Your breath is caught in your chest and you let out a sultry moan. 

For a moment, all that can be heard is heavy breathing, grunts of pleasure, skin slapping erotically, and a juicy sucking noise from your mouth as your orgy progresses. With Aemond’s expert attention on your bud, your walls start to flutter again and you redouble your efforts to suck off Aegon, determined that you both should cum at the same time; his breathing is becoming labored and you know he’s close. Within a few more moments, the three of you climax together in unison; Aegon grunts as his girth pulses in your hand, shooting his seed down your throat just as Aemond’s cock pumps his into your pussy, emptying deep inside you. He gives your ass a hard slap and you wail once more as mind numbing pleasure courses through your belly as your pussy milks Aemond dry.

Swallowing your mouthful, you collapse, exhausted, onto the bed next to Aegon, completely worn out by your third orgasm. Aegon pants softly beside you and Aemond plops down on your other side, the only one to still seem composed despite the sheen of sweat on his chest from his own exertion. 

The next few minutes are spent in comfortable silence as your breathing returns to normal. Aegon rolls to his side and captures your lips between his own. You think he’s just giving you a sweet sort of kiss as a “thank you” for a great time, until he takes your leg and swings it over his hip, reaching down and playing with your sensitive bud. You buck you hips away from his hand and whine pathetically, telling him without words that you are almost too sensitive to touch at this point. He shushes you gently and you feel him reach down to your entrance and gather Aemond’s spend that’s leaking from your pussy, bringing it up and circling your bud with a featherlight touch.

You feel Aemond move until he’s spooning you from behind, trapping you. He brushes your hair to the side as he starts to pepper your neck and shoulder with kisses while his large warm hand caresses your back, moving down to squeeze the ample flesh of your ass. Despite your exhaustion, you feel yourself getting aroused again at their attention. Aegon’s skin is burning as you lay facing him, chest to chest, and Aemond is just as hot against your backside. You feel caught between two flames, like you could catch fire entwined around the brothers.

Aegon continues to kiss you slowly, circling your bud, your leg still hooked over his hip when you feel another set of digits come to play at the entrance of your pussy. You flinch slightly, but Aemond doesn’t enter you digitally, instead seeming to gather more fluid on his fingertips. Without warning, you jump when you feel him spreading his spend on your asshole. Aemond hushes you sweetly, kissing right below your ear, as he starts to push ever so gently on your puckered hole. 

“Come now,” Aegon whispers against your lips, “You didn’t really think we would be done with you already, did you?” His hand moves up to tightly grip your thigh around his hip, holding you in place as Aemond slowly starts inserting a digit into your ass, causing you to moan and arch your back, unfamiliar with this new intrusion.

“Hmm,” Aemond hums appreciatively, nibbling on your earlobe as Aegon watches your face. The pressure is mounting as Aemond pushes his thumb into your ass and realization dawns that they are far from finished with you. They aren’t going to stop until every last bit of you is sore from stretching around their thick cocks repeatedly; their intention to possess you both at the same time becomes abundantly clear as Aemond works to open your tight puckered hole and you know they’ll continue to cover your body in bite marks, hickeys, and bruises, effectively marking you as their own. They haven’t even begun to truly consume you yet. 

“Yes, sweet girl,” says Aemond, an authoritative edge to his tone, “We’re just getting started.”

The story continues in Part 3

Tags: @rhaenyslay, @elizarbell, @aemondsscar, @peonamay, @cyeco13, @quinnquinn317, @multyfangirl, @myfandomprompts, @thekinslayed, @pandemonium105, @fan-goddess, @vencuyot

[masoncantthinkofaname]

A day in the life of Mason, httyd edition

Considering our days can be wildly different, rather than an average routine, I'll describe actual day from my last shift there💚

Most importantly, my coffee picture of the day

Reminder: our dr is based on how to train your dragon, none of the original cast exists there, we don't live on Berk, and there are likely many dragon species that don't exist in the movies!

We woke up, around an hour before sunrise. Which would have been a little before 8am (winter). The fireplace in our room was almost burned out, and I was laying on my husband's chest. We woke up from the sound of children's feet running around outside of our room, for a moment just laying there and enjoying the last bits of our slumber and peace.

Our twins (and in that reality our only sons), were whispering rather loudly, clearly trying not wake us up, and I remember hearing Daeron chuckle quietly. We had our guess what they were doing, they like to sneak in their dragons into their room, especially now that said dragons sleep besides our house.

Eventually I told my husband I'd go check on them, if he could put some logs in both the fireplaces, and we shared a kiss before getting up. I walked into the living room, and my own dragon, Flicker was sleeping curled up near the fireplace. He opened one of his eyes like usual, and just grumbled a bit. I knew exactly why.

Surprise surprise, I walked into the boys' bedroom, to find them and their counterparts there, all with wide, guilty eyes. We went through the usual excuses like ''It's already morning, they didn't sleep here,'' and ''They were lonely outside.'' Honestly I wasn't really mad. We don't mind dragons in the house, Alcae and Stig are just a bit young still, and they have a tendency to chew on things that shouldn't be chewed on.

Made sure the kids, Soren and Oisin got themselves dressed, and it was cute to see them help each other with their hair. Daeron and I also got ready, all while Flicker (my dragon) was still sleeping (he's not a winter person- or well, dragon, which is unfortunate because it's almost always winter). By the time we were ready it was starting to get a little lighter outside, and we had made a plan for the day.

Rather than our usual breakfast, we proposed going out for an early flight, and visit one of the nearby isles. The twins absolutely love flying, and they soak up every bit of practical teachings that we show them. Theory? Not so much, but that's also not what vikings are known for.

Daeron went off to let Bjorn known we would be gone for a little while, and I helped the boys get their dragons ready. Considering their dragons are still growing we take off their gear every time we get home. A lot of people leave it on their older dragons for a few days, because well fitted saddles are not in their way, but can be a bit time absorbing to strap on every time. I also said hello to Frostfang, Daeron's dragon, who usually sleeps outside, as he's quite big and doesn't fancy the warmth that much.

Right before leaving we had to go back inside because the kids didn't dress warmly enough, and were stubbornly set on not being cold until a breeze hit them. When Oisin gave in, Soren folded as well, and they finally listened.

We went in the direction of Haste, watching the sunset on dragon's back. Although cold, it cleared up pretty quickly and it was a beautiful day to be out. I think all our dragons enjoyed getting some freedom, and we spent some time chasing each other, snatching the children off their dragons and practicing their balance, before going to a small bit of land for a break.

Or that's what they taught. Survival day means that we're gathering our own food. I explained to them how to find fresh water, and know you can safely drink it. And then we spent a while catching fish, making a fire and roasting them. Probably half of the catch got eaten by the dragons, but that's fair since they helped us.

They wanted to know some more tricks regarding balance. Their dragon riding is really good, but they're still learning how to keep their balance without being seated or using their hands. We spent some more time practicing, bothering Flicker by walking all over him, considering Alcae and Stig stopped sitting still after 10 minutes.

It was a lot of fun, definitely peaceful. And, I think if anyone is interested I'll have to make a part two because I just realised how ridiculously long this has gotten. If you came this far, thank you for reading, my apologies for yapping!💚

[almondmilktargaryen]

Duty & Sacrifice (Part Four)

Summary: Aemond is married with two kids to Floris Baratheon, as it was his duty. But it's when he ventures into Flea Bottom in the night that he faces his sacrifices.

Couple: Aemond Targaryen/Original Female Character

Category: Flangst

Content warnings: None

Word count: 4.2k

Also on my Ao3

Part one | Part two | Part three | Part four

MONTHS LATER

The first signs of spring bloom from the city with the sun’s warmth—coaxing filth from the stone paths and mingling with the crispness of fresh life. Bright green stems wriggle free from the leftover snow as the Spring Princess does the same in her father’s arms. Aemond pets the fluffy black strands on her head. Her arms navigate out of the swaddle. She reaches up, and the innocence stings more than it soothes. Aemond does not meet her touch, leaving the babe to grasp empty air.

His hands ached beneath her, the bruises dully reminding him of Floris’ record 14-hour labor—fourteen hours of agony for both of them. At the ninth hour, the force of her squeeze shifted the bones in his hand as she abandoned all attempts at demure restraint. He screamed with her then with a shared raw voice, a rare harmony in their otherwise dissonant marriage.

The babe coughs on the capital’s sour air, and Aemond adjusts his hold, cradling her closer as his eye sweeps the cityscape. Exhaustion tugs at him. Yet these basic instincts of fatherhood keep him alert, preventing threats that will never come. It is why he hears boots on the floor and a faint scrape of metal against red stone bricks. “She’s beautiful.” Criston’s tone is low.

“Hmm.” He takes a long breath. “Yes.”

Eventually, Criston passes him. The sun sheens across one of his shoulder plates before he sits by him. His posture is stiff thanks to the armor, but he tries leaning in. “When was the last time you slept, my prince?”

Aemond’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Do you think this is how my father felt, Cole? When he held Aegon for the first time?”

Criston stills.

His eye drifts down. She is scrawny and pink. Her little fingers stretch and reach for nothing all the same. “Did he feel like he was holding a stranger?”

“That is not fair, Aemond.”

“But it is a genuine question. His love for us went to mourning another. I thought I’d never understand it.”

“You love all your children, sons and daughters alike.”

He did not need to think twice about his sons. He always wanted daughters, but the birth of Baelon and Daeron engulfed him with fatherly pride. Both were a peak that crashed into him without warning; a wave taking him down from behind. Before, his children—all his Targaryen children—reminded him of his purpose, his power, and how those elements together would give them the world. The daughter in his arms, however, he sees it coming. The wave is consumed before it has a chance to wet his boots. It is there when she looks at him, her mother’s eyes deep and blue, but it falls flat when he thinks about it a moment longer.

Aemond wouldn’t be surprised if his father laughed at him now. He was likely with his own Baelon: the infamous Heir for a Day and forever five hours old.

“How could she have chosen that name?”

“It is a political spectacle, Aemond. Nothing more.” He puts a gloved hand on his shoulder and keeps him steady as his fingers dig into the leather. “Names are omens. The people need omens to carry on. With Baelon as heir to the Iron Throne…”

Aemond sniffles.

“It was not the deliberate choice you think it is.”

“No father should compare one child to another.”

The babe reaches out as she fusses.

“How am I supposed to avoid comparing, Cole?”

“You cannot stop yourself. You do your best afterward. But that is tomorrow. Today, you need sleep. Come.”

Aemond hesitates, then stands, cradling the babe with practiced care.

Inside, their bedroom was dim, lit only by slivers of sunlight cutting through the sheer green curtains. Floris lies propped against a mountain of pillows. The labor was three days ago, yet she is just as pale and swollen as she was halfway through pushing the babe out. Floris is also noticeably annoyed. Handmaidens flutter around her like skittish birds. Two massage her feet, and each hard press churns out a grunt from the pillows as others fan her face.

When spotting Aemond, they freeze, all hands mid-motion.

He takes another step closer and some shiver like he is holding a blade instead of a newborn. The reputation of being a fright to the Keep’s staff comes with more privileges than burdens; one of them being minimal communication. So by the time Aemond says, “My wife needs her rest,” the group curtsies in unison and file out the chamber doors.

Floris sighs, her eyes still closed. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t appreciate that.”

“May I sit?” He signals to the chair next to her.

She nods weakly.

He walks around the bed. Several bloody rags still hang off the back as Criston stays at the foot. “How are you feeling, princess?”

“The only help I’ll take now is from a maester with a jug of milk of the poppy.” Her laugh is brittle. It bleeds into huffs as she pushes herself up onto her elbows. “Which might be sooner than I wish.”

“You don’t have to sit up,” Aemond tells her. “She’s tired as well.”

Floris doesn’t listen. She shimmies herself upward at her own pace.

“I can help you.”

“You are not a maester.” She winces and braces herself upright. As a reward, she extends her arms, saying their daughter’s name like it is a numbing balm, following it with, “Come here.”

Aemond follows her command, unwrapping the swaddle first to place her on Floris’ chest. She murmured the babe’s name, tender. “Who’s eyes does she have?”

“Yours.”

She frowns, brushing her fingers over her head. “A shame. She won’t look like the boys at all.”

“Eye color can change over time.”

“Really?”

“Possibly.”

Criston clears his throat. “Princess, your husband needs sleep. With your leave, I was going to let him rest in the Tower of the Hand.”

Floris studies her husband. The pinkish whites of her eyes somehow make the blue more prominent. “You haven’t slept at all?”

He shakes his head.

“He’s right then. You need rest.”

“Yes.”

“She’s quiet, but I’ll try to feed her anyway.” She pulls at the edge of her robe while Criston politely makes way for the door.

Aemond shifts his weight and stands. “Do you want me to—”

“We’ve touched enough for some time.” Her voice is calm when she says it. Her eyes remain fixed on their daughter. She opens her robe, and the babe latches without fuss. Silence follows as Aemond departs.

Aemond no longer avoids sleep the way he once had. Each night had been a battle of will: laying his head down only to succumb to silence, closing his eye, and reliving the night he lost Alyssa. The memories turned rest into torment. He awoke so often from stirring in his sleep that a full night’s rest seemed like an impossible dream. Then, the stirrings happened to Floris.

The City Watch had uncovered little after finding Royce’s body. Witness testimonies were scarce. The lords at Chataya’s hid from the Gold Cloaks as if they carried a plague. The only accounts they had were from Chataya and Alayaya, who claimed Royce had staggered out of the building drunk and harassing a young girl. “She clearly escaped,” they both said.

Aemond paid rent early after that.

 Floris rarely spoke of Royce. Her tears, once frequent, hardened into a stoic mask as days morphed into weeks. Though Aemond slept better that first night after justice was served, Floris grieved during the dark hours. She trembled in her sleep, whimpering. Each time Aemond reached for her, she jolted awake, eventually seeking Daeron instead.

Their youngest son became her solace during her pregnancy. Barely five, Daeron seemed to sense her unspoken need, much like Aemond did with his own mother. He clung to her in the gardens, holding a finger as they walked or nestled in her lap whenever he could. With Aemond, the boy grew distant. He spoke less, but he never mentioned his dreams when he did. Nor did he cry for his father when awakened by nightmares.

If Aemond dreamt, he forgot by the time he rose from bed. But some dreams lingered in fragments: blood-soaked screams, his father’s dagger, the reminder of what forever means. The worst were cruel illusions where both his daughters lived and he still felt loved. Over time, his heart became unresponsive to all but the craving for sleep alone.

Their boots echo faintly as Aemond and Criston climb the stairs to the Tower of the Hand. Aemond moves deliberately, his eye fixed on the steps, his posture upright and projecting the composure of a well-rested man. Criston, always watching, is ready to catch him at the slightest stumble.

The door swings open, revealing a room steeped in shadow. A faint scent of parchment and dust lingered in the air, perfect for rest.

Once inside, Aemond sinks into the couch between Criston’s (Otto’s) bookshelves, piled high with scrolls and tomes. Stretching out his legs, he runs a hand through his hair, pulling the tie loose. The front strands fall to frame his face as he looks up, finding Criston standing nearby, a hand extended.

Aemond hands him the tie without a word, but Criston doesn’t retreat.

Aemond sighs. “I can sleep fine with it on, Cole.”

“But you’ll sleep better without it.”

Aemond hesitates, glancing at the door.

“No one will come in. You have my word.”

Finally, Aemond unties and hands his eyepatch over. Criston closes his hand around it and places them both on his cluttered desk, the only truly occupied space in the room. Scrolls and documents covered every corner, spilling to the floor in haphazard stacks. Sriston sits, unmoved by the disarray. He glances at Aemond, his brows raising with his command. “Sleep,” he tells him, a tone that brooked no argument.

And Aemond didn’t try arguing. His eye is already closed.

It was a dreamless sleep, but exhaustion still clung to him. The candles light the room as the moon reveals itself outside of the Tower’s thin windows. Aemond blinks the blur away slowly, degrading the candlelight from fuzzy circles to singular, pointed flames. He spots a raven on Criston’s desk as well. It caws at his side. That and the occasional rustle of parchment are the only sounds in the room. He’s focused, sifting through papers and unaware that Aemond is awake. He makes himself known, pushing aside the fatigue and standing. “I’m going to check on Floris.”

I checked on her. She’s resting.” Criston did not look up, quill in hand.

Aemond grabs his eyepatch first, then his hair tie. “Then I need to attend to at least some duties today.” He heads for the door.

“Aemond, stop.”

Aemond’s fingers brush the iron handle. It wasn’t his name, but the tone. Nothing firm, but paternal; something only he has the power to do now. Aemond straightened, and then turned, meeting Criston where he set his stack of papers aside.

“You asked earlier if your father felt the way you felt when you held your daughter.”

Aemond’s jaw shifts.

“I don’t think you are your father.”

“My father longed for a dead babe over the children who came after him. I don’t deny I feel the same.” Every word makes his throat tighter.

“Your father killed his wife for that babe. He made a choice, one that cost him more than he could ever gain.”

“And I nearly did the same.”

“Nearly,” Criston repeated with a nod. “But you didn’t. And that is the difference.”

The silence hangs heavy. Aemond does not see the difference, or Criston’s point. He does not explain, busy picking through his papers again and counting them under his breath until he pulls out the small scroll lost in between, still curled in from its travel.

Aemond glances at the raven. It caws at him when Criston hands over the paper.

He stretches out the scroll, flattening the ends with his thumbs. His eye trails across the messy handwriting; crooked letters and uncertain strokes. He clears his throat. “Sh-she can write now?”

Criston gave a small nod. “I hired a teacher through Chataya. Her penmanship is far from perfect, but improves with every scroll.”

“Every scroll? You’ve been communicating with her all this time?”

“Now and then. For her practice. And proof of life.”

Aemond returned his attention to the scroll. His head buzzes. He reads every word again and again. Not because of the handwriting itself, but because they are her words. He could see where the quill was pressed too hard into the paper, making the ink leak from certain letters and unintentionally connecting them to others, but he could still read them. The way she spells his name, Aemund, is an honor he did not know he desired. But he reads the final two sentences again, his name and all: As my dater gets older, I think it wuld be good for her to see her fater. Pleese tell Aemund as soon as you can.

Aemond gingerly handles the scroll, preserving the work. Then folds it gently before slipping it into his tunic. The buzzing has spread to the rest of his body. The joy, nerves, and fear all wreaking havoc inside him at once. Yet he stands still when Criston rises from his seat and hands over a cloak.

“You are not your father, Aemond. Because you have a chance at forgiveness. And I know you will take it.”

Winter’s bite clings to the capital after the sun disappears. The wind is sharp as it dives under Aemond’s cloak, but he barely feels it. He keeps his hood up, but the blood coursing through him makes him move swiftly. His breath curls in on itself before grazing his face, moist and warm before dissipating just as quickly. His heart pounds against the raven scroll in his breast pocket—the rolled paper scratching against itself with every beat. The sound zips up to his ears as he slides through small crowds and alleyways while finding his footing before slipping onto the frost-kissed streets.

The foyer is modest and warm; larger than most with extra couches for (particular) guests, and on top of heavy Dornish rugs. Days-old incense lingered in the air, thick and smokey with the hearth in the next room divided by a beaded curtain. Flickering candlelight softens the room and eases the ache in Aemond’s eye as the servants’ liquid shadows coordinate from one terracotta wall to the next. They do not meet his gaze, but they bow when he passes. Even here, he was still the One-Eyed Prince: the war hero whose name (and face) was the source of gasps and wary looks.

He walks through the curtains as the servants silently suggest. The tension coiled in him like a tight spring from the moment he read the misspelled name, making his heartbeat drumroll for this occasion he’d dreaded and longed for at the same time. He eagerly awaited spring’s jump upon seeing her splendor. Because he missed her. How could he not?

Aemond straightened his back when the strings finally slid off his shoulders, clicking together behind him. He took down his hood for a better scope of the place: hearth, more couches, pillows, rugs, a balcony supported by white columns, and a view of the fields outside of the city limits.

But she is not here.

The spring twists in on itself somehow even tighter in his core, like it was hunkering down and preparing for an ambush. But the soft squeak of iron hinges to his right releases it from hold and launches itself into Aemond’s throat; leaving him speechless upon hearing his name.

She strolls into the hallway with a slight correction in her posture, hands collected at her front when stepping more in view. She had replaced the dirty cotton nightgown with a thinly cut pink silk dress. It flows around her body rather than clinging to it. It is held up by a gold collar around her neck. Her copper curls pour down her back. Rebellious strands had long escaped to the front, framing her face, despite the way she tied it. Each one is shiny and defined, like her dress.

And Aemond knows he is staring. (He is still a man in some ways.) He eventually mumbles her name with a swallow, testing to see if the world did not still just now. She did not help with his guesses, as neither of them moved. It was like the room itself also held its breath, limiting the air around them. Aemond searches for words, remembering Westerosi and High Valyrian, but nothing that could form a sentence. But the sound of her bracelets dangling when she lifts her arm flushes them away too.

“Alisha’s in her room.”

Aemond’s mouth is still dry. He swallows again before following her. Aemond swears they are meandering. He cannot see much, but her body sways under the silk. She leans on the door with effortless grace, despite still being in pain from that damn cot.

Orange light spills into the dark room, illuminating the intricate wood carvings along the rim of the cradle. Aemond follows the slender path, hesitant to step on any of her toys. (She better have toys.) Inside the cradle, Alisha stirs in her sleep, her body nestled under a cloth clumsily embroidered with flowers. She is smaller than he imagined. But her features are delicate, and her breaths are soft and even. He doesn’t want to wake her, but the need for touch—the proof of life—is imperative. Gently, he places a hand on her plump belly. Yet even in the joy, his eye searches for the traces himself—white strands amidst her fiery ginger curls.

“She’s growing into your nose.” Her voice comes from behind him, just as gentle. She lingers in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the torchlight.

“Indeed, she is,” Aemond murmurs. His lip quivers into a faint smile. There’s no bump on the bridge like her mother’s. “Is she grabbing yet?”

“Books, mainly.”

Aemond looks over his shoulder. “She’s reading already?”

“We learn together.”

Smiling, genuinely smiling, is something he hasn’t remembered doing in so long. Its natural form comes with his children, and it makes things almost feel normal. “Will she know me?” He asks aloud.

“Perhaps.”

“That’s something only you can answer.” Aemond’s gaze shifts back to her. She doesn’t respond but speaks volumes as she turns and walks out of the room.

Alone with Alisha, he watches her sleep. Her tiny chest still rises and falls in a peaceful rhythm. He aches to stay, to pull up a chair and spend the night memorizing every detail of her face, every wispy inhale. But he cannot. With one last touch, he presses his hand to her side, imprinting the feel of her to his memory. Then, reluctantly, he steps away, closing the door softly behind him.

In the light, he finds her on the balcony, her silhouette outlined against the city’s darkness. The faint glow catches the ripples of her dress and the peachy undertones of her skin. She looks out at the fields of King’s Landing, the ones Aemond wanted to take them to once (forever ago.)

He steps closer, lingering behind the columns. “Your letter,” he begins, “said you wanted me here for Alisha.”

She doesn’t turn. Her fingers only tighten on the wood banister as the wind tousles her hair. She flicks it back.

“You care to share the real reason?”

Her laugh is bitter, though barely more than a breath. “Your Prince Aemond. The Targaryen war hero who commanded hundreds of men and a dragon to fight for you.”

“Yes.”

“You killed thousands in the war. Some of them your own family. I know it haunted you once.”

“It still does.”

Her head spins and her eyes narrow. “Does it?”

“Darling—”

“Just explain it to me.” Her body pivots with her interruption, facing him fully. She leans back, but her fingers still dig into the banister. The wood creaks under her grip. “When did you stop caring about Alyssa?”

“I never stopped.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Yes.”

“Then tell me her name, Aemond.”

“I’m not saying it.”

“She’s the Spring Princess. The world will remember her. You might as well get used to the taste of it.”

“My wife named her.”

“And you couldn’t bring yourself to disagree.”

“It wasn’t that simple. The maesters saw an omen. Something for the people to cling to, a symbol of hope alongside my son.”

“Don’t explain omens to me as if I wouldn’t understand.” Her voice cracks as it rises. “The truth is simple enough. You took our daughter’s name for yourself.”

“I would’ve never.”

“Then you let your wife take the last piece of her I had left without a fight.”

“What was I supposed to do then? Refuse and risk raising questions? Risk someone discovering you and Alisha? She would have looked into why I objected. She would have dug until she found you.”

“You fought bastards to be slaughtered, and you got what you wanted.”

“That’s not fair.”

“And this is where you gave up. Settling for a replacement.”

Aemond’s hands clench to his side. “You think I don’t carry the weight of my actions every day?”

“Claiming guilt and carrying it are not the same.”

“You haven’t seen me carry it!” The heat in his face picks up with his voice. “You’ve spoken to my Hand, but not once have you asked about me. You didn’t see how I mourned her, how I cried every night. The pyre Cole built for her. How I reached for her in my dreams.”

Her lips pressed together, disappearing behind her teeth.

He breathes, he swallows. “I won’t ask you what I can do to make it right. The answer is nothing. She’s gone. But don’t think for a moment that I didn’t want to refuse Floris when she named her. I thought of all three of you. The last thing I was going to do was draw suspicion. I tried to protect all of you before, and I failed. I refuse to lose you again.”

She takes a deep breath, her chest rising and falling as she stares at the sky. The torchlight catches the tears clinging to her lashes like morning dew, and for a moment, Aemond wonders if she’s looking for her up there.

“You know I loved her.”

“I do.” Her voice is softer as she admits it, but no less pained. “That’s what makes this so hard.”

Aemond doesn’t move, his breath caught somewhere between hope and despair.

“The way you speak of her… the dark shadows under your eye. They weren’t there before. And Ser Criston told me about the pyre. Now she’s up there without me.” She shudders as her body folds.

Then Aemond catches her just in time. He doesn’t have the strength to hold both up, so he eases them down to the limestone, submitting to the weight together. Aemond holds her as she sobs into his chest. “She’ll never be within reach.”

“I know,” he whispers, voice croaking. “I know.”

“And I didn’t want to see you then. I blamed you for it all.”

“You were right to.”

“But when I heard her name at the Sept… I thought you were letting us go.”

“How could I do that?”

She doesn’t reply, gripping his tunic and weeping into the leather.

“No.” Aemond pulls her back, holding her red, wet face in his hands. “How could I possibly let you go? The woman who healed me, loved me, all of me? Gave me beautiful children on top of it all. I tried paying you back and I only destroyed us. You’d still have her if it weren’t for me.”

“I wouldn’t have either of them at all. I’d still be alone.”

“Oh, darling.”

She tries catching her breath, opening her mouth to speak more, but wraps a hand around his bare wrist, carefully. Aemond’s pulse quickens under it, her willing touch. He looks at her lips briefly, but plants a kiss on her cheek instead, fearing that he will not hold himself back if he seals them so close.

“I’m sorry,” she splutters out.

“I’m sorry,” he says back. He brushes back the stray curls as he lets out a breathless “And I love you.”

“I love you.” It’s choked out of her. Like she had been holding it down. She’s still overwhelmed, the calluses inside now tethered above her opened wounds. But she blesses Aemond by cupping his face with her other hand. He had been crying along with her. He just didn’t realize how much until her fingers stroked his chin, smearing the cooling single streak. “Don’t leave me here,” she tells him. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“Never.”

“Stay with me tonight.”

“I will.”

Her thumb rubs under the dark circle. “You need sleep.”

“I can’t. I won’t.”

“Aemond.”

“Not yet.” He slips a hand to the back of her neck and pulls her in. He holds everything back and focuses on kissing alone, like their first days together only a year ago (yet somehow decades at the same time.) Except now, he worries he’s too much when she falls back into the balusters. But she brings him with her, sealing both their fates for the night; enveloped in hope and each other, finally.

Taglist: @paprikaquinn @immyowndefender @teal-anchor @dixie-elocin

A/N: Holy shit, we're finally done. It took soo long to get to this point. People died so we could get here. (People being Alyssa, Royce Baratheon, my cat, my dog, and my dad.) (Yeah, I'm serious 🤣🤣) Thank you so much to everyone who encouraged me to write a part two and enjoyed this little series while enduring the choices I made. I appreciate all of you and promise to write happier stories in the future 🤎

[maidragoste]

Hot Chocolate

Gwayne Hightower x Reader

Hi, first day of the December drabble special!

I hope you like it 💖💖

Reblogs, comments and likes are always greatly appreciated. comments always motivate me to continue writing 💖💖

If you have ideas for other drabbles, don't hesitate to write them in my inbox 🥰🥰

Tomorrow's drabble will be with Aegon

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Gwayne smiled as he watched you light up when you walked into the living room with two mugs of hot chocolate. On the way home you were talking about how you wanted to have one and warm up on his couch after spending the afternoon Christmas shopping.

“Thanks,” you said taking one of the mugs and reaching over to give him a quick kiss. “I was waiting for you to pick out what movie we would watch.”

You brought the mug to your mouth as your boyfriend settled next to you.

Gwayne watched you struggle to swallow. It was obvious from your face that you didn’t like your chocolate. Had he put too much sugar in it? Or maybe it was bitter for your taste? Or wasn’t hot enough? He couldn’t believe he had ruined this when it’s something so easy to do.

“Please don’t keep drinking it,” he asked putting his hand on your arm to stop you from bringing the mug to your mouth again. It was obvious that you didn’t want to make him feel bad and that’s why you were planning to finish the drink. “I know you don’t like it.”

“It’s watery,” you said making a face.

“Then the problem is that I put in too little cocoa, I’ll go get more,” he said getting up.

“No, love. It’s watery. It has water instead of milk” you said making him stop on his way to the kitchen and look at you confused “Do you always put water in it?”

“Isn’t it supposed to be done like this?” he said feeling embarrassed. Now that he thought about it the last time Daeron went to his house and had his hot chocolate he had told him that it wasn’t good like his mother’s. But Gwayne hadn’t taken the comment seriously thinking that his nephew was just a mama’s boy.

“Oh, poor you, I’ll teach you how to make a good hot chocolate” You got up with a smile and kissed his cheek before entering the kitchen. “Don’t worry, it’s not difficult”

“You’re my guest, you shouldn’t be washing up,” your boyfriend said seeing you start washing the mugs. He quickly rushed to your side and grabbed a dish towel to at least help you dry them.

“It’s nothing, it’s just two mugs,” you said as you left the last mug beside him and went to look for the milk in the fridge and then went to where the shelves were to take the jug to heat the milk. Probably if you had stretched your arm a little more you would have been able to reach it but Gwayne didn’t miss the opportunity and stood behind you, pressing his chest to your back, and took it himself.

“Here,” he said as you turned to look at him, not at all impressed.

“Thanks” you thanked him taking the little jug but your boyfriend didn’t seem to have any intention of moving to let you pass. “What are you waiting for?” you said trying to contain your smile knowing perfectly well what he wanted.

“A real thank you,” he replied, smiling.

Maybe on another occasion, you would have spun around until he asked you to kiss him. But now Gwayne was looking at you as if you were precious, something unique as if you were the most wonderful thing in the world when you weren’t doing anything special. His gaze makes you feel happy, warm, and loved. You want to kiss him so you do. You were planning to give him just a short kiss to take away your desire and be able to continue with the task of making a good hot chocolate but you forget about that the moment you find yourself tasting his lips and you feel his hands on your waist.

The hot chocolate can wait.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

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