#dalton greyjoy x reader

[missglaskin]

Just had the thought of Dalton Greyjoy showing up at reader’s nameday celebration feast and them dancing like 3 songs straight and reader is into it cause this is a MAN fr and he’s so chill with his crazy it’s hard to care lol. The entire family would hateee it it like the disgust would be visible on their faces. I wonder who’d cut in first Aemond or Viserion? 🤔

Oh my god Anon, that is the last person we want to add to the mix

But in all honesty, no one ever expected the Dalton Greyjoy to waltz into the reader’s name day celebration. The Ironborn are known to mock such feasts and for Dalton to not only invite the reader for a dance but for her to have to keep up with him. Unlike other Westeros men who make such an effort to win the reader over with lavish gifts and smooth talk, Dalton strikes me as a quintessential "classic bad boy." He is blunt in his desires.

Aemond's only eye is twitching as he watches Dalton act all "vulgur". And Laenor is finding that, for the first time in his life, he agrees with the blacks and the greens. It is necessary to restrain Viserion before he causes a scene, and it is also necessary to restrain Daemon before he and his son pursue the Ironborn. As you can imagine, the entire family is aiming daggers at Dalton whenever he suggests that the reader might visit the Iron Islands. With daggers at his back, Dalton, the man he is, will continue to flirt with you.

And if by some miracle the reader marries Dalton, it may be the push that Viserys needs to kick the bucket.

[annwrites]

⸻ flesh & bone. part one.

· pairing: dalton greyjoy x siren!reader · type: part of a series · summary: dalton’s men make an unexpected capture in their net during a daytime fishing expedition. · word count: 748

“The fuck is that?”

The man beside him squints, trying to peer through the netting—through the numerous fish and rocks and bits of seaweed which fill it.

“Looks like…” The other man begins, grasping, knowing it surely cannot be as he rubs at his dirty beard.

Rather, he supposes, can. It is the Iron Islands, after all. It would not be the first body they have drug from the seafloor. Nor will it be the last.

The net is lowered to the dank ship deck and the men have at it, pulling the netting apart to see what they’ve found. What treasures may be discovered for the taking.

And then they still, until one hollers, “It’s a bloody fuckin’ woman!”

Dalton quickly breaks from the conversation he’s having with the man at his side and begins shoving through the quickly-gathering crowd—roughly pushing his fellow reavers aside—and his dark eyes finally take you in.

Naked, drenched, curled in on yourself, seaweed and shells tangled in your long, dark locks which cling to you.

He kneels, gripping your clammy skin, turning you onto your back and he presses his ear to your breast and listens.

And is thus met with silence.

He stands. “Toss her the fuck over. We’ve no use for dead wenches.”

A man behind him grumbles. “Mayhaps one of us.”

Dalton considers him for a moment, then pushes past, shaking his head. “There’s other work to do now that we’ve reached shore. Next time we plunder, take yourself a salt wife and you’ll care naught for flaccid corpses.”

Just then, you lurch up, turning onto your side once more, and sputter up a lungful of saltwater.

Dalton quickly turns back, heart hammering.

You draw in a ragged breath, planting your palms flat against the wood beneath you as you try to calm your spasming lungs.

And then you stand, and the men take a step back, some marveling at you with wide eyes—your perfect naked form. Some shaken by the act of you rising from the dead, just as drowned priests and brave men do during a Kingsmoot. Some stand with axes in-hand, ready to wield them.

“You said she was dead,” one of them states.

“She’s a witch. I say we take ‘er head!” Another shouts.

“Put a blade through her heart and tie her to the bowsprit.” A few agree, in congress.

“Let us have a few turns with her first. Shame to waste such a comely young thing,” a man in the back states with a dark chuckle.

You stagger, shoving one of them away from you as you head toward the side of the ship.

You had been wrong. You cannot do this. You cannot leave the sea behind, even if it cannot now be undone.

Your legs wobble and you glance down, unsure yet of how, exactly, you are meant to use the damned things.

You look up at one of the men staring at you with hungry eyes and you snap your teeth at him, sending him back a step, practically falling into the man behind him as you then clench your hands into fists.

Dalton grins, stepping forward again, now taken with you, like most the rest of them.

He grabs you roughly by the arm—his grip that of iron.

You stare up, into orbs of blue. Just like the water you had come from, which had cradled you until you at last began to call it home. You no longer remembered the one you’d had before it. All you need know is that it was not worth recalling.

What had you done?

Had the others who had made this sacrifice before felt this? The world crumbling and falling around them like limestone in a fist?

He pulls you close to him, your breasts pressed firm to his chest, which is clad in leather that’s soaked from rain, and stained with blood.

“Where did you come from?” He asks, tone that of disbelief at your mere existence. His eyes appearing wild and delighted at the mere prospect of you.

Darkness begins to take you within its arms.

You glance out at the sight of never-ending water—beckoning you to come back. Come home, come home, the rippling waves call.

You look back to the man which speaks to you at last, unknowing of his future fate.

“The sea,” you whisper.

As you fall, a pair of strong arms catch you, but you do not see whose as your eyes slide shut.

[poppyreader]

Imagine a Jace's female twin and her mother Rhaenyra sends her away to deal with Lord Dalton Greyjoy, aka big dick kraken and there is some HEAVY flirting and Dalton craves the little dragon but eventually she has to leave to Winterfell to tell the bad news to her brother (RIP Luke) and she meets Lord Cregan Stark who is stunned by her beauty. She has to stay for a while, and Cregan falls madly in love with Jace's twin, and on the other side of Westeros, Dalton thinks about her every day. Both swear to support Rhaenyra but in reality they are doing it for her daughter and the war turns into a dick swinging fight between Cregan and Dalton trying to show off for their beloved dragon lady omfg I need these men.

[arabellasleopardcoat]

I cried at this, just so you know. Dalton Greyjoy? Asshole. Women killer, despicable worm. Daemon? Irresponsible asshole, hope he dies. He has no right to mourn her. And Viserys! Viserys graduated from real asshole to absolute one here. I never thought my opinion of him could drop even lower.

Men. I hate them. I am now off to listen to "The fruits" by Paris Paloma. If that doesn't allow me to calm down, I will watch Gone Girl. You know, in times like these I really get Amy, and I hoped our girl would pull one. In my delusion, she has.

The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/domestic violence/assault/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would,; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair falls cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles his way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. His hands grab your knees and parts them for himseld

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill down the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you one before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with the faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

His grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands to push his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his hand coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes his sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffling the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his balls in you, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed to have the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it; he's made you his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparently scorn. He smiles at the man, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile and take the man's hand. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

He does not do so. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

"You fucking--"

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. Youlet a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of the two finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You can no longer stay screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he then shoves Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your hit.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

You were too naive to believe in good things.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You push inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, and sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

" I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you still, and this moment proved it.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are releived he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

As so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room. He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Your heart drops as he storms over, "who's the father of your bastard child?!"

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you across the face, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you again and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows the gods smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge in a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught. Perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your stiff and frigid body.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

[writingwenches]

Iron Price – fish out of water

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— 

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

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

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

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

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

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

[shesjustanothergeek]

His Love

|Aegon II Targaryen x Fem!Reader|

Part Twenty-Three

Masterlist of Series

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

Author's Note: Hey, besties; sorry for the delay. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. First, one of my coworkers called off (she doesn't even work here anymore because she missed too much), and I had to do two 10-hour shifts. Then my freaking internet went out because some tree trimmers cut the connection line for everyone! And after that, I had a crisis and lost the inspiration and drive to write. This chapter is a two-parter, which I usually wouldn't say I like to do, but it would've been over 10k words. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and as always, thank you for reading!

Chapter Warnings: The reader has severely unresolved trauma, angst, Arryk is a white knight.

"The axe forgets; the tree remembers." - Zimbabwean Proverb from the Shona tribe.

You were still determining your place inside Maegor's Holdfast, unfamiliar with the royal wing layout like you were with the rest of the Keep, having found an abandoned terrace that the court long forgot. Leaves of green ivory crawled up the side of the castle, wrapping around the red rock banister like an unkempt tree in the Godswood.

Your eyes gazed at the iron mote of spikes that protected the Holdfast. They shined wet like a predator's teeth, grinning back at you in misery.

Your body felt full, yet empty, full of swirling emotions and thoughts you had long buried, stirring the formerly clear water into a murky pool. Yet in that same emotion, you felt nothing, the well dried up from a summer's prolonged drought left with dust and sand at the bottom. You were uncertain if the nothingness was a blessing. Conceivably, it was your psyche's way of coping with the trauma of your life's story. You were fearful that if you suddenly felt those surges of memories, thoughts, and regrets, the iron spikes would be dripping with your blood.

Your title was called out from behind you so softly and so tender it was a whisper in the wind, almost causing you to disregard it as a trick of your mind. The sound of armor clanking and fabric rustling told you otherwise.

"Princess, the hour is late. You must get your rest," Ser Arryk expressed, his voice as compassionate as a mother. You refused to answer, the energy to move your lips and tongue long sapped out from crying.

He stepped onto the balcony until he was beside you, his arms stiff behind his back, shoulders tense at the silence. Arryk was conflicted about what to do. He knew he could not order you to sleep. His position was not one to command the eldest daughter of Daemon Targaryen, but he was assigned to be your sworn protector in all matters, whether defending you from a foe or yourself.

"My Lady, you need not speak of what has stolen you from sleep, but let it take no longer. I shall lead you to your bed chambers," the kingsguard offered kindly, leaving no room for rejection.

Finally, your eyes met his blue ones, seeing your black lashes clumped together from tears. Arryk wanted to comfort and embrace you as any good-natured person would but refrained, simply placing an inviting palm on your shoulder. He had seen you at your worst years ago after your brawl with the Septa, knuckles swollen and red with the blood of the older woman, beautiful face pink and glistening with tears down your cheeks.

Otto Hightower, be damned. Damned to the fiery pits of the Seven Hells to burn for all eternity for what he made Arryk do. You were too dear to the knight to betray your trust anymore. Though Ser Arryk never discovered any hurtful information other than the peculiarity of you and the eldest son of the King's relationship. He spent every waking moment inhaling the same air as you, breathing in each exhale like it was his last. How could he ever betray your trust in good conscience?

"Aegon was the one who discovered Lyra's plans to smuggle me out of Kings Landing. He killed them." Your words tore him from his internal struggle with shock.

Arryk's brows scrunched in confusion, trying to recall what you were saying. His face paled when he did, remembering the blotchy grey faces displayed on the battlements of the Red Keep for all to see, for all to see the Hand's justice. May Lord Hightower's death be long and painful for what he did to you, Arryk thought.

"I wish Aegon were dead," you spoke aloud without realizing it.

The knight became worried, suddenly closing the distance between you to make somehow your confession disappear. "Princess. You must be careful what you say here. The walls have ears, and the ears have eyes."

"No, Ser Arryk. Let them hear it," you protested, your nails digging crescents into your palms. "Mayhaps they will understand the agony I have suffered all these years. The mornings and nights I have laid awake in bed, praying to the Old Gods and the New for them to somehow bring her back and make it so nothing happened." You sucked in a ragged breath, hiccuping from the remnants of your tears as your body became too challenging to carry. "I cannot do this anymore. I cannot be here."

The kingsguardmen did not understand your true meaning of how you desired greatly to leave this whole charade behind, to return to Dragonstone and watch little Joffery and the younger Viserys and Aegon grow into their skins, to watch Lucerys become the man you were confident for him to be. Instead, Arryk thought the worst, believing your words to be final and life-ending, as he firmly grabbed your biceps.

He said your name gently yet sternly, causing your glazed eyes to widen. "You must not think like that. I shan't allow it," he commanded. "You are the strongest maiden in the realm. You ride the fiercest dragon, feared by humans and its species. You have endured hardships and trials a girl of your age should never have to, and even when your blood was stolen from you, you did not turn to resentment. You were not bitter to those undeserving."

You attempted to move your face away from Arryk's, unconvinced at his words. He was so close that you could smell the mint leaves on his tongue. "You are stronger than you know, and until then, each moment like this, you will feel as if it is too much, but you will always find yourself emerging on the other side."

No words made their way to your lips, and you suddenly felt the rush of emotions you had thought dried. You stepped away from Arryk, embracing your torso as you faced the opened doors that led inside. You didn't want to feel anything. Not now, nor ever again. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you returned to the silver-armored knight of the Kingsguard.

"I seem to have lost my bearings, Ser Arryk," you whispered into the chill night air. "Will you help me find my way back to the guest wing?"

The request was a peace offering, a silent "thank you" for his unfailing kindness. If he had not dedicated his life in service to the King, he would've made an excellent father and an even better husband.

Ser Arryk nodded stiffly, taking long strides ahead of you until all you could see was his pristine white cape flowing like a field of wheat in the wind.

***

You desperately desired to stay within the confines of your bed, as if laying underneath the thin cotton sheets would protect you from the outside world. It was silly, and you felt childish, but truly, that was all you were—a child disguised as a woman painting a facade of fierceness and maturity on your skin. But the pigments had cracked and bleached from weathering winds, rains, and suns until it revealed the canvas underneath. You wished desperately for the chips to be covered, groping at your flesh to hide them from the world.

But it was too late, for they had seen the peeled paint and what lay beneath—a frightened young girl yearning for acceptance and love.

Tears returned to your eyes, a common occurrence over the past fortnight. Your maids had become used to seeing you sniffling in your bed as you were now, covers tucked underneath your nose to hide your sobs. They had tried more than once to find the root of your sadness, but you were a closed door, keeping those who cared for you locked from entering.

Helaena had moved your quarters to the Holdfast as she promised, something you were initially looking forward to. It meant less sneaking around the halls and the corridors of the Keep like a mouse to find Aegon, but that was why precisely you dreaded it now. Though you had scarcely seen him, no doubt drunker than a Bravosi sailor in the pillow houses, the fact that he resided within the same wing made your skin prickle with disgust.

He had yet to return your dagger, small and silver with dragons on the hilt, and you had half a mind to storm inside his chambers for it, but each time you were within eyesight of his door, profound nausea and the sting of tears would stop you.

How could you have lain with the man who bore the blood of two innocents? How could Aegon lay with the kin of the people he sentenced to death? You knew him to be cruel and unusual, but that was something even you could not rightly justify.

Aegon was no matter, you told yourself, rising from your bed at the smell of ham and boiled eggs. All that did was ensuring your Mother's smooth succession. You could achieve it in other manners of not seducing the eldest son of the King. Your presence was something enough to stop them should the Stranger take your Grandsire, and if Queen Alicent and Lord Otto Hightower try to place Aegon on the throne, you would gut her, then her Father, then her beloved first son before the following morn.

You would kill a legion of men before Aegon ever sat upon the Iron Throne, even if it meant your demise.

It's what your Father would want. He would proudly let his daughter lay down her life in service to the crown, just as he would. There would be no nobler of a death.

Jeyne had readied your bath and outfit for the day, a high-collared dress made of black satin. Small silver plates of metal and beads that looked like dragon scales were sewn on the torso in a 'v' shape, accentuating the scandalous low cut of your gown. The sleeves were a long, unsewn style, the stitching keeping them together ending just before the crook of your arm and flowing around you like a cape at your sides. You paired it with an ornate belt, the design of swirling dragons with their teeth bared melted into the steel,  matching hammered cuffs on your wrists. Your necklace was a simple chain, needlelike links dripping down your sternum until they looped into your house sigil. 

You looked to be in mourning garbs rather than the typical court colors, a common occurrence. Perhaps you were, in a sense, mourning. Mourning a loss you should have accepted years ago, weeping for happiness free of politics and schemes, mourning the connection from someone you tried so hard not to form one with.

The three ladies had learnt not to ask why you made such decisions in your clothes. They would only be met with a lie and a smile that stretched a bit too wide. They understood that something had happened and did their best to tread carefully. You were not cross with them, no matter how hurt, vengeful, or angry. Fiora, Jeyne, and Dyanna were innocent in all this, as Sara was, and you refused to have them involved with any of your personal affairs in fear of what would become of the three women.

You paused momentarily, adjusting the designed belt to rest comfortably on your waist, realizing the littlest maid was not there.

"Where is Dyanna?" you asked calmly, curious but not concerned about where she could be. "Is she unwell?"

"No, Princess," Fiora answered, ushering you to the vanity. "She's been assigned to care for Princess Helaena's children after one of the nursemaids fell ill and had to be sent home."

Your brows scrunched in confusion, frowning at the memory of your time with the young Prince and Princess. You have seen the little ones almost every day since the beginning of the planting season, and you haven't noticed any ailments in their caretaker.

You reasoned that illnesses always had the potential to be a sudden onset of symptoms. You had seen in your childhood on the merchant streets how a vendor was acceptable one day, selling different fruits and vegetables you could never afford, then the next, gone without a trace due to a fever. You hoped Jaehaerys and Jaehaera did not catch whatever it was. The first decade of a child's life was the most precarious, their tiny bodies not used to the dirt and disease the realm had to offer.

You left the thought at that, hoping to see the skittish, fair-skinned girl with them. A grimace made its way to your face, attempting to ignore how the wooden comb snagged on a tangle in your hair. Fiora styled it into a braided updo. Two thick plaits in a 'u' shape lay at your skull's base, a silver three-layered chain with black star sapphires pinning it to your hair. Clasping a pair of fan-shaped earrings in your lobes, you stood, stealing one last boiled egg before bidding your ladies farewell and greeting Ser Arryk at the door.

He followed wordlessly, as any knight should, observing how your hips slightly swayed with each step of your leather slippers. Arryk had tread carefully since that scornful night. Since the night you reeked of sweat, alcohol, and tears. He remembered seeing the stars reflected in your dark eyes, the violet hidden during the hour of the wolf, and he couldn't help but think how things might have been if your Father wasn't a Targaryen.

Perhaps he could've met you before he swore to take no wife and bear no heirs. Possibly still while he was a simple bannermen, living from allowance to allowance. Arryk would not have the luxuries he had now if it happened, but if ever given a chance, he might leave it all behind. It would be a shame to leave the highest rank a knight of lower-born descent could achieve, but he would do it for love, for only if you loved him back.

Your guard had suddenly stopped following behind you, standing idly with a slight wrinkle on his forehead and hand on the pommel of his sword.

"Ser Cargyll?" you questioned without words incredulously, tilting your head to the side.

He was silent for a moment more, seeming to come back from wherever he was inside his mind. It was a dangerous place to be inside one's head for too long. It sent some men mad, some women to despair, and some to where they could never leave. You knew what it was like when one would stay inside too long. It sent you reeling in anger, sadness, and joy. There is too much inside not to get lost in.

"Princess, this is not the way to the Godswood," Ser Arryk stated, the crease on his forehead gone.

"I know, Ser. We are not going to the Godswood today," you answered politely, not elaborating further as you continued walking.

"If you don't mind me asking, your Grace, where are we going?"

You flashed a bright smile at Arryk, glancing behind before coyly turning away. He started at the back of your intricately braided hair, mesmerized by the being that was you. His eyes traced how your ebony strands crossed in on themselves, the way the golden chains bounced with every stride. The knight noiselessly cursed the Maiden and the Mother for making you in their image.

While Ser Arryk did recognize the halls you traveled, he was sure you didn't. Your head twists and turns each way, peering into every door and threshold, searching for something he was unsure of.

"Princess, I may be a knight, but I am your protector. 'Tis my right to know your plans and destinations," he commanded as kindly a man could in hopes of not securing your wrath.

He had seen it once before in the training yard at the hour of ghosts, Prince Aegon standing too close to be considered appropriate, his sworn protector nowhere in sight. Despite Arryk's place on the ramparts above and the sun having long set in the west, he could spot the twitches underneath your eye, barely containing malice on your pursed lips as you pulled your bowstring. The knight hadn't noticed how you did it, but a rock was within the place of the arrow as you shot it at the crown Prince's foot, earning a yelp from the twenty-year-old lecher.

You turned back to him, crossing your arms with an undignified huff. "I am not gallivanting off into the Kingswood, Ser Cargyll. I do not understand your persistence with the matter." Arryk attempted to hide the frown that pulled his lips, but you saw him sighing softly and looking to the floor to think over your words more carefully. "We are visiting Grand Maester Orwyle. He has a collection of history and law books that has peaked my interest."

You stepped towards him, breathing a calming breath through your nose, and dropped your arms. Ser Arryk was a fragile soul, simple almost, only following the linear path of honor and duty with no concern for whether it was right or wrong. If the King said it, he did it. If the Queen said it, he did it. If you said it, he did it. His singular vision of things was almost admirable at times. To blindly follow orders without the moral guilt of your actions was something you hoped for. It would make things easier in this game of thrones and less heavy to bear.

But that wasn't life. That wasn't the fate the Gods intended for those with responsibility, though many attempted. Rhaenyra tried, and if you were her, impending the ever-looming doom of the crown, you too would stay tucked away in the little world where life felt light.

Arryk took your stillness as an invitation to walk alongside you, silently leading you to the Maester's quarters and saving your pride from ignorance. You ordered him to stay outside, and he obeyed without a second thought, dipping his head and muttering, "Princess."

Maester Orwyle was hunched over a large oak desk, tomes scattered across it, pieces of parchment covering most of the surface; peeking between them were lighter patches on the wood worn from centuries of usage. It was a simple room with a cot at the far end of it, large bookcases occupying most of the space. Multiple candles were lit throughout the dim room, the smell of incense burning heavily. Shelves lined the bare walls, glass bottles of liquids, salves, and dried herbs occupying them.

The brown-skinned man looked up from his work upon your entrance, sitting the quill he was writing with inside the inkwell and standing.

"Princess, how can I help you?" he asks sincerely. You could still recall when you first met him, scribbling notes and assisting the former Maester Mellos as he tended to you.

"I was inquiring if I may borrow some books of laws from your collection. I find myself not reading the correct ones in the library to assist my studies."

You weren't lying. You couldn't find the text you were searching for because it was not only laws. It was the death records of prisoners, and only the keeper of those things had access to them in their collection.

"Ah. I see," Orwyle nodded, rising from his desk and clasping his hands behind his canvas robes. He led you across the room, showing you to the section. "May I ask what specificity you require so that I may lead you to the correct tome?"

You planned for him to ask you this, and as you rehearsed a dozen times in your head, you smiled, bobbing politely. "Of course. I am in search of the laws regarding war aid. We have provided some to the Stepstones, and Lord Corlys brought to my attention that they require more. I do not want to make it seem like the Crown is inserting itself into the conflict."

He beamed slightly, a sight you never recalled seeing on the man before as he directed you to the section of law. An entire side of the bookshelf dedicated to just that, tomes of varying shades of green, brown, and black, and you blanched at the sight. What would the records be like if this was only the law section? Would you have time to sort through them all to find the one you need?

"Thank you," you said, concealing the sudden rush of anxiety within your gut. "I realized that your collection was vast, but this is..." you trailed off, gesturing to everything around you, "expansive. How do you ever keep track of them all?"

Orwyle chuckled, seeming to preen under what he took as praise, bowing in gratefulness. "It is not all from me, Princess. Each book has been added with every Maester since they were brought to the Keep. We simply divide each shelf by memory, though we try to keep the subjects together."

"That is..." you couldn't find the right words, truly at a loss for them as you stared at the collection before you, "extraordinary. You must show me everything!"

You took his arm in yours, leading him out of the secluded area like a child with their playmate, giggling like an unwed maiden as you skipped along. Orwyle was surprised by your giddy demeanor, contrasting the dim and almost gloomy atmosphere despite the late morning sun shining through the tall stained glass windows. The Maester was alone within these four walls, writing, studying, and mixing away with the occasional Lord or Lady stopping by. To have such radiant company was a welcomed intrusion to his duty-filled days.

Men are so easy. All you had to do was smile demurely, flutter your lashes, and they would eat shit out of the palm of your hand.

Orwyle guided you, explained how each section was organized, and added his anecdotes. You listened intently, nodding along to every word, no matter how minute it seemed. This endeavor had proven more fruitful than you intended. The Maester had enjoyed your company so much that he invited you back, insisting that you could pick whatever book you wished before he left to return to his work.

And so you did. Traversing to your rooms with six tomes piled high in your limbs before Ser Arryk insisted he carry some, keeping one hidden between the stack within your hold.

Once you reach your chambers, your sworn shield follows you, placing the stacks on a table with neatly stacked parchment, a letter sealed with the Targaryen emblem in black wax resting beside your writing set. You catch Arryk eyeing it for longer than appropriate, and you purposely meet his gaze, a raised brow on your face.

"That is all, Ser Cargyll. I thank you for your assistance." You never fail to detect how he stiffens when you say his title, a quirk you've been unable to comprehend.

As always, he bows and takes his leave, shutting the door noiselessly behind him. When the lock clicks, your hands immediately snatch the letter, knowing who it's from. You lived for the notes from your family; they were the lifeline that kept you afloat in the brackish waters of Kings Landing. It was your only form of communication with them, and you looked ahead to whatever they had to say, no matter how asinine or mundane the contents were.

You ripped the wax seal without care, devouring each word, your eyes moving too fast for your mind to keep up. You could quickly tell it was from your Father, the lines of his letters thicker and more potent than your Mother's, his writing purposeful.

"Daughter,

I hope you find yourself well. Your Mother missed you dearly at Jacaerys' nameday this spring, but she looks forward to seeing you for Luke's later this year. I informed her that you are dealing with matters of importance that require your attention and would be unable to attend. Death comes when we least expect it with crowned heads and ambitious hands."

Tears stinging took you from reading, pursuing your lips to keep them from wetting the document and making the ink illegible. You longed to return to Dragonstone and see your family. Smell the scent of brimstone and salt and feel the damp sea air on your skin as you rode Cannibal high above Dragonmont.

Daemon's reasoning was understandable, but it hurt. It made your heart clench and your chest feel hollow. Resting your forehead on the heel of your palm, the letter in the other, you continued.

"I know this will upset you, but I trust you'll understand my reasoning. We must make sacrifices until your Mother sits on the throne uncontested. You see the concept of duty and loyalty to your kin. You've always been the one out of my children to unwaver in your will, and that is something I admire.

I received word from Lord Dalton Greyjoy, who has proposed marriage just as you said. Your wit and cunning never cease to amaze me, daughter. I still need to send word regarding my decision. I wanted you to be the one to decide.

Lord Greyjoy is a fine match for you. His fleet of long boats and swords rivals that of the crown itself, but I hold my reservations regarding his intentions with you. I believe you have outdone yourself, for he seems bewitched, intent on making you his Rock Wife, and I am unsure if that is harmful or helpful. I've heard the rumors of his treatment regarding his Salt Wives, and I will not tolerate such things toward my eldest child. Should you accept his proposal, and he does not honor his duty as lord husband, I shall cut off his cock and throw it into the sea as a gift for his Drowned God.

Think over this. I do not expect an answer within a moon. If he truly desires you in such a way, he will wait as long as you deem fit. My daughter is not a shiny coin to be plucked and placed in a crow's nest.

Expect a letter from Lucerys soon. He's been inquiring about your happiness. I believe he misses you more than your Mother and I put together. I await your next raven with patience.

Yours Respectfully, Prince Daemon Of House Targaryen"

You scoffed, throwing the letter haphazardly across the table. You knew the proposal from Lord Dalton would come eventually, as you had corresponded for the past seven moons. It was a gratifying distraction you should have taken seriously, your letters filled with much less pomp than was expected for a woman of your status. Possibly, in your lack of care, you inadvertently wooed him as his last raven was treading the line of inappropriate. You remembered how his words made you, a girl who spent her early years in a whore house, blush.

He would be an excellent match politically, and perhaps you could grow to love him, even better his treatment of his Salt Wives. But you knew better. Lord Dalton Greyjoy only loved two things in this world: bloodshed and women. He would grow tired of you swifter than you would him, and it was not proper for women of the realm to have paramours, hypocrisy be damned.

You didn't want to give the situation more thought. Your Father permitted you to mull; you would gladly take it, opening the records book hidden between the stacks.

The pages were easy enough to navigate. The Masters, if not anything, were thorough, creating an index of years in ascending order to the most recent. Your finger paused on the one you remembered so well. The year in which you were stolen everything that might have been. The year that the Stranger claimed two souls earlier than they should have.

You turned the pages.

The smell of aged leather and parchment wafted into the air, nearly choking on its scent in the back of your throat. They arranged the death records from the first of the year to the end of it, and you searched for the seventh moon. On the fifth day, only two deaths are recorded, that of two prisoners named Lyra Black and Sara Smithe. The cause was beheaded by members of the City Watch.

It did not say the names of who, an intelligent choice on the Maester's part, for if you knew, their deaths would become sooner. They were lucky Mellos or one of the many others had the foresight not to write them down, as other Maesters had, but it only made this all the more exciting. The satisfaction as you plunged your dagger into their necks, slicing through tendons, muscles, and vertebrae, ensuring they felt every bit of suffering, anguish, and fear Lyra and Sara felt.

It would be messy. There were many veins and arteries within one's neck. You needed to bring some water with you to wash before returning to your chambers. It would all be for naught if someone saw you walking the halls with blood dripping from your digits and face.

You wished it would be the dagger Daemon had gifted you for your first name day to cut through their flesh, but Aegon still possessed it.

It was no matter. You had four more from the past, but that one, with its silver handle and roaring dragons engraved on both sides, held a place deep within your heart. And Aegon took it, as he always did with things. Take, take, take without concern about who he stole from. You would get it back, but not now. That would raise too much suspicion, and you would not put it past the eldest Prince to run to his Grandsire or Mother as he has done before.

You tried to recollect that fateful night, searching your memory for any detail you could sounder up, but it was hazy. The years you had blurred the picture of the throne room in your mind's eye. It was too painful to remember. Each time you thought of it, it was flashes, little glimpses of faces and bodies and heads. When you thought of it, all you could see was Lyra's smile, spending her last moments trying to reassure you, the fear behind Sara's eyes within her shackles, Otto Hightower's indifference, and Alicent's inaction in the face of two innocents deaths. You would never forget that, nor ever forgive.

You were scarcely in the Great Hall for a moment, and even then, your attention was elsewhere. You witnessed Ser Criston Cole grabbing you, pulling you back, the Queen turning away, and Lyra's comforting grin. Then, you saw them, gaze following the loops of the metal chain attached to Lyra and Sara, hands gripping at it as if the two women were nothing more than dogs. You met the eyes of two Gold Cloaks. You did not know their names, but you would soon; their countenance now burned into your mind.

Masterlist of Series

I've decided to change my uploading schedule from Sun/Mon to whenever possible. I'll always let you know before I post so you won't have to ask, "when are you going to post?!" I know that's not fun, but it works best for me because I get myself so worked up over updating on time when I'm in control of the situation. Also, I'm going to be getting rid of people in my taglist who haven't interacted with this fi since the list is so big. I want to have it all in one and make room for those who are active. So if you've been in my notifs in the past two months, you'll be fine. Welp, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. The chapters are gonna get a little messy from here! xD

Tagged Peeps: @zeennnnnnn, @malfoytargaryen, @targaryencore, @justasmallbean, @alexandra-001, @omgsuperstarg, @sommornyte, @silverslive, @unclecrunkle, @prettykinkysoul, @duesobabe, @djlexi, @ynbutbetter, @honestlykat, @graykageyama, @legolas017, @iiamthehybrid, @brezzybfan, @dd122004dd, @ladybug0095, @millies0bsimp, @kalfild, @sheislonelyalways, @tempt-ress, @daenerysqueenofhearts, @minttea07, @trikigirl271, @esposadomd, @prettywhenicry, @justarandomflowerchildofthenight, @partypoison00, @please-buckme, @pastelorangeskies, @joliettes, @existential-echo, @priyajoyy, @valaenatargaryensdragon, @merovingianprincess, @rachelnicolee, @candy12110, @w3ird11, @ruhjkie, @somemydayy, @marikkjj, @zillahvathek, @sunfyresrider, @heavenly1927, @prettylittlelady, @hjgdhghoe, 

[alannybunnue]

Yandere Dalton Greyjoy headcanons?

Yeah, he is a bit confusing to me

Dalton is know for having 22 salt wives and no iron wife, so i don't know if his treatment with you would be different depending of which is you.

Whether you are his 23th salt wife or his only iron wife.

So what i can say of his personality as a yandere?

Maybe something like Gregor, he is possessive asf (let's remember that none of his wifes liked him) is not afraid of hurting you if he needs to and...he is needy (Uno reversed).

He gets tired of women, but not you, you are a drug to him, so prepare for his constant presence around you.

Also, you have a lot of scars (Blood kink mfs)

[flowerandblood]

Song from the Sea

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Greyjoy! • fem! oc!reader]

[warnings: sex content, angst, smut, domination]

[description: Aemond and Aegon arrive in the Iron Islands, to confirm the arrangements made years ago and the marriage of Lord Greyjoy's daughter to Aemond. (Anon Request) During a break on a long journey, at one of the taverns Aegon drags him to, Aemond meets a woman, who will change his life forever. (Anon Request) Smut, angst, sexual tension, domination.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

The Iron Islands seemed to Aemond the ugliest place on earth that he had ever seen in his life. His future wife was from these regions. His father made a pact with Dalton Greyjoy years ago, thus securing a monopoly on the importation and trade of dragonglass and many other goods that could enrich the kingdom.

He and Aegon were to fly there to confirm the arrangements made several years ago and to set the date of the wedding, which was proposed by the king himself. He tried not to listen to the ironic tone of his drunken brother, whom he had just nursed at one of the inns, where he insisted that they stay during their journey on the dragon's back.

“Apparently all iron women have beards, brother, because they are half men. They're blunt and big, talk low and don't comb their hair, probably don't wash either. But well, you're so devoted to your family so you'll surely do what's right for the kingdom." He grunted as he sipped his beer from his big metal mug. They were both in cloaks with hoods over their heads.

Aemond carefully watched what was happening around, wanting to make sure that no one recognized them. He begged Aegon to continue their journey, but Aegon brushed him off, saying that he could go alone and he would join him later.

Aemond had promised his mother that he would not let Aegon humiliate the king in the eyes of the Ironborn, and he had to make sure that nothing uncontrollable happened. He pursed his lips at his words.

"Yes. I, unlike you, know what duty is." He hissed low, looking around. He turned his gaze quickly towards the front door as he heard it open with a loud creak of wood. Several hooded figures entered.

Two of them were quite elderly men, one with a long, white beard and an earring, the other completely shaven and covered in disturbing tattoos. The third figure was a woman, her waist-length, dark hair partially tied back, unruly curls around her face.

Her face was pale, her eyes seemed golden to him from a distance. She was a head shorter than both men. They were both talking to her quickly, apparently treating her as their companion, not a kidnapped maiden from a good family.

The three of them approached the counter, talking to the owner who greeted them cheerfully, obviously knowing them well, squeezing the men's hands. After placing their order, they approached one of the tables which was already occupied.

The men sitting there nodded and just stood up without a word, obviously fearing or respecting them. The three of them sat down, undressing. Only now did Aemond see that the girl was dressed similarly to him, in tight, leather, simple black outfit, consisting of a jacket and trousers.

"Are you even listening to me?" Aegon mumbled after his third beer. Aemond grunted, turning to face him, looking down at him.

"That's enough. We're leaving." He said, getting up.

He feared that the strangers who had just graced the inn might recognize them or be Lord Greyjoy's men. He didn't want any misunderstandings that he was a drunkard like his brother. Aegon, however, laughed at his words, his eyes clouded and thoughtless.

"You're leaving. And I stay." He purred, raising his hand, indicating to his host that he wanted another beer. Aemond grabbed him by the fabric of his cloak and hauled him up, but Aegon began to struggle and kick.

"Stop it, gods, don't act like an animal!" Aemond hissed, glancing out of the corner of his eye at the three strangers who were now watching them warily, concerned.

He cursed mentally, knowing, that they had already drawn attention to themselves. His older brother did not give up and broke free after a moment.

"I'm staying here. I have the right to rest after eight fucking hours on a dragon back." He sputtered in his drunken voice, and several people turned their heads in their direction.

Aemond squeezed his eye shut and shook his head, furious. He decided that if any assassin wanted to kill them now, it was his brother fault. He decided that he had had enough and approached the counter, furious, asking for a beer himself. He couldn't bear to look at it all soberly.

He heard footsteps and the rotted, wooden floor kneaded beneath them. The girl he had noticed earlier stood now next to him. The host approached her, smiling from under his slightly reddish hair.

"What's for you, sweetie?" He asked in a soft, slightly hoarse tone.

"I'd like a round for this lord at my expense." She said calmly, her voice surprisingly pleasant and graceful.

Aemond felt uneasy and looked at her dispassionately, his right hand close to his belt, where his dagger was strapped. She looked at him. Indeed, her eyes were a light, warm color, brown and gold, piercing, large. Her black eyebrows and eyelashes framed her beautifully pale face. She turned her head, looking curious.

"I don't envy you, comrade. Is this your younger or older brother?" She asked softly, genuine, unforced curiosity in her tone.

Aemond stared at her blankly, wondering why he should answer her at all. However, he felt a kind of discomfort at the thought she had immediately guessed that they were related.

"How can you be sure that he's my brother?" He asked low, dispassionate, almost in frustration.

The girl gave him a pearly laugh, glancing at Aegon. He was talking to one of the innkeepers who was wiping down the table next to him.

"You can only have so much patience with your own siblings." She said amusedly, glancing at him again, her gaze warm, her face expressing surprising cordiality. He thought that he did not trust her and that she must want something from him.

"I won't give you gold if that's what you mean. I don't have much of it with me either." He grunted, taking a sip of the beer that his host had just placed in front of him. The girl laughed again, leaning back against the counter, facing him, looking at him with a satisfied smile.

"I don't want your gold. Here, in the Iron Islands, we don't care much for it. We get what we want ourselves. You can give me something else that I desire." She said, looking at him in such a way that his throat tightened.

He thought that she didn't meant it. Involuntarily, his gaze traveled over her body, to her clearly defined breasts hidden under the jacket, her compressed waist, her round hips. He returned his gaze to her face, which was bright and soft. Her beauty wasn't vulgar or intense, it didn't seem to fit who she was, or how she was dressed. Seeing her up close, he thought they were about the same age.

"What do you want?" He finally asked coldly, pressing his lips together, tired of this exchange. He knew that he should leave, sit next to Aegon, wait until he fell asleep, and just carry him out.

But there was something in her eyes, in her words, that drew him in. The women of King's Landing, even if they were interested in him, would never dare approach him willingly.

They feared him, his eyepatch that covered his missing eye, his scar, his stony face, his deadly gaze, his clenched fists.

The girl tilted her head to the side, her cheeks warm and red from the small amount of alcohol that she had already drunk.

"Come upstairs with me. By the time we're done, your brother will fall asleep here, on the table." She spoke softly, almost silky, her lips slightly parted. He felt his manhood pulsate hard in his trousers at her words. He couldn't take his eye off her lips.

"So your friends can kidnap him or kill him?" He hissed, looking into her eyes again, annoyed that she had tried to fool him in such a primitive way. The girl sighed.

"My father serves Lord Greyjoy as his vassal. I wouldn't dare hurt his daughter's future husband or his brother, any more than my friends. By the way, you have dragons nearby, am I wrong? Isn't your one command enough to burn us all to the ground?" She asked gently. He stared at her with pursed lips.

It was always Aegon who indulged all his pleasures at the expense of others. He thought if he was to meet a woman tomorrow that he would probably never love, who he might not even be able to look at, that maybe once, just once, he might be the one irresponsible.

Go upstairs and fuck her the way she wanted, feel the warmth of a woman that he thought was beautiful.

Seeing his hesitation, she walked slowly towards the stairs, turning to him over her shoulder, smiling at him from the corner of her mouth. Aemond downed what was left in his pitcher in one gulp and followed her without thinking twice.

He saw her enter one of the rooms where a fire was lit. He closed the door behind him and looked at her. She stood with her back to him, staring into the flames, lost in thought.

She took off her leather gloves, her slender fingers deftly beginning to undo the knots of her jacket. The fabric parted slowly, revealing her bare skin, the faint outline of her breasts, now practically uncovered. He quickly looked her up and down and saw that she had no weapons hidden anywhere.

He unbuttoned his coat, shrugging it off, eyeing her warily, circling her with a dark, dangerous gaze, like a predator looking at its prey. She glanced at him, as her jacket slid down on its own, revealing her naked body from the waist up.

He swallowed loudly when he saw her soft, firm breasts. He thought that they would fit the shape of his hands perfectly and felt he was completely hard at the thought.

"Have you done this with many men before?" He asked impassively, unable to take his eye off her chest. She smiled, sighing as if in pity, her gaze warm and full of something that he couldn't describe.

"No. But seeing you, I couldn't resist. Such a handsome man." She said softly, approaching him slowly, there was no trace of shame on her face.

He flinched and stepped back when she wanted to take his hand. She wasn't put off, she took his fingers gently in hers and lifted them, placing them on her breast, letting him touch the warmth and softness of her body. His mouth parted at the sensation, the heat in his lower abdomen unbearable.

"You are mocking me." He said low, but there was an uncertainty in his voice that he chastised himself for in his head.

He knew that nothing could change what his face looked like - the first thing anyone saw. He didn't know how anyone would want to kiss him willingly. He decided that the girl was having fun at his expense, sensing his desperation, the fact that women stayed away from him.

Nevertheless, instead of a malicious smile, he saw surprise on her face. She blinked as she stepped closer to him, placing her free hand on his chest, the other rubbing her breast with his hand. He felt her nipple harden under his touch and pursed his lips.

"I'm not in the habit of mocking people. I don't like wasting my time, my prince." She whispered, her lips slightly parted, her gaze sensual and full of desire.

He sighed and pulled her to him, she kissed him suddenly, softly, noncommittally. With each sticky click of their lips brushing against each other, her lips pressed more and more against his, her body close to him, finally feeling how hard he was. He didn't stop her as her hands slid down to the fabric of his trousers, undoing them.

"I will give you a lot of pleasure if you only want, my prince." She whispered, taking his hard length in her hand.

He moaned low into her mouth, surprised by her directness, how gentle her touch was, how soft her hands were. She squeezed him timidly, rubbing him up and down, never taking her lips off of his, one of his hands gripping her waist tightly, the other still involuntarily massaging her breast.

He suddenly grabbed her hair, tilting her head back, looking at her with parted lips, all hot. He felt that there was no turning back, that it was too late. He thought that he wasn't married yet, that today was the last day that he could do what he wanted.

"Let's see what you can do." He hissed, grabbing her hips suddenly, and she yelped softly, wrapping her arms and legs around him, breathing fast.

He sat down with her on the bed, and she immediately straddled him, unbuttoning her trousers, sliding them off her. He was surprised that she didn't mind that she was completely naked while he was fully clothed.

She rose slightly, positioning herself above him, her hand in his hair, looking at him with her mouth slightly parted. She took his hand, now clenched around her hip, and led it between her hot thighs, straight to her throbbing womanhood, wet with her moisture.

He took a deep breath, feeling a woman like this for the first time. The whores that Aegon had taken him to a few years earlier had just been riding him, and they certainly weren't as wet as she was now.

"Do you feel it, my prince? It can all be yours tonight." She whispered, pressing her forehead against his, encouraging him to slide his finger inside her with a motion of her hand. He did it slowly and sighed shakily, as he felt her rough, fleshy walls pressing against him. He couldn't take his eye off her face.

He grabbed her wrist roughly and firmly, still holding his other hand between her thighs, as her fingers reached for his eyepatch.

"No." He said coldly, looking at her angrily, his jaw clenched, his heart pounding like crazy.

"I want to look at your face while we do this, my prince. Whole." She whispered, guiding his second hand, so that he was rubbing against her clit and the point of greatest pleasure inside her. She rose and fell on his finger, seeking a point of friction, breathing faster and faster.

“I saw men without legs, arms, eyes, ears. The sea spares no one, my prince. Just like fire." She whispered, her free hand brushing over his scars.

He thought that she was lying.

Still, he wanted to believe her. He pursed his lips, torn inside, wanting and not wanting to do it. He wanted to break free, to show himself as he was and hide at the same time. To shut up, to give up, to leave her and go back to Aegon.

When her hand grabbed his eyepatch again and slid it off his head he didn't stop her.

Her expression didn't change, he felt her walls tighten around his finger, a sweet moan escaped her lips.

"Gods, how handsome you are." She whispered helplessly, pressing against his lips, and he moaned loudly in surprise. He didn't believe a word she said, but he wanted it to be true, he wanted her to want him.

He slid his finger out of her quickly and lifted her hips, directing her to his swollen, throbbing manhood that craved her attention so much. They both gasped loudly as her hand guided the tip of his length to her throbbing, hot entrance.

They moaned in surprise as he slid into her suddenly, easily, all the way. She was tight and warm, but at the same time so wet that he began to move inside her at once, imposing a fast, intense pace.

She didn't seem to mind, placing her hands on his shoulders, supporting herself and responding with her hips to his every thrust, panting along with him. His mouth bent down and found her breast, soft and firm, which he grasped, his tongue teasing her nipple with a grunt of delight, tasting salty sweat and her own, sweet scent.

She moaned softly at his caress, pressing his face to her chest, moving on top of him, collapsing against his thighs with a loud slap.

"Oh, gods, my prince - yes, that's right - caress me like that -" She moaned sweetly, delighted, their movements faster and faster, his thrusts brutal and intense, his cock tearing apart her walls, pushing all the way inside her.

He didn't care if it made her uncomfortable or if the pace was too fast. She pressed him so wonderfully, was so incredibly warm that all he wanted was to come inside her. He let her breast out of his mouth with a wet plop, his hand tightening on her hair, tilting her head back.

"Do all Iron Women get wet so fucking easily? Hmm?” He hissed in a hollow voice, panting and moaning in turns with her, his thrusts increasingly sloppy and chaotic.

He could feel the tension in his limbs reaching its zenith, he knew that he wouldn't last much longer. She smiled at his words, her lips slightly parted, her eyes pressed shut in pleasure.

"No, my prince. Only my insides will make you feel this good." She mewled in delight, plopping down on top of him and rubbing against his throbbing cock in such a way, that she felt like she was about to come on him.

Her fingers tightened on his leather jacket as he moaned loudly at her words and sped up, fucking her with all the strength that he had in his hips, both panting restlessly, out of breath, sweat running down their bodies.

“I will leave a little reminder of myself inside you. Would you like that?" He hissed, feeling that a few more thrusts and it would be over. She moaned at his words, gasping for breath, his fingers clenching painfully tight on her hips.

"- yes, oh, gods - I beg you, just cum in me - please, please, please!" She sobbed loudly, and then the sound caught in her throat.

She sobbed helplessly as a strong, brutal orgasm stormed through her body, almost causing her to ache with pleasure. Aemond pressed his forehead against her chest as he felt her tighten on him. He just cum inside her, letting his warm seed spill inside her, panting loudly, shaking with her.

When it was over she slid off him, laying on her side on the sheets, staring at him. He, still breathing uneasily, trembling, quickly tied back his trousers, looking at her out of the corner of his eye.

Her body rose and fell, all hot and quivering, her lips parting sweetly, her eyes staring at him with such warmth and fulfillment that he felt dizzy. He had never experienced such a powerful orgasm in his life.

He didn't know what to say or if he should say anything. He swallowed softly as he saw his semen drip from between her thighs onto the sheets.

He walked over and bent down, taking his cloak from the floor, and left the room, closing the door behind him. He put his clothes back on, pulling the hood over his head, trying to calm down, telling himself that nothing had happened.

That it was just a pleasant adventure and nothing more, that no one will know about it. He pressed his lips together and sighed in relief, as he saw Aegon snoring loudly, his face pressed against the table, beer spilled around him.

He threw his hand over his shoulder, sighing heavily, looking out of the corner of his eye at the companions of the girl that he had just fucked. He felt hot at the thought of her wonderful insides, her soft breasts, her lips, her eyes. He shook his head, dismissing the thought as he and his brother walked outside.

The next day, though not without problems, he and his brother reached the stronghold of Dalton Greyjoy, ruler of the Iron Islands. Aegon looked like he was about to die, but Aemond looked no better.

He hardly slept, and he felt guilty about what he had done. He wondered what his mother would say if she found out. He decided that his Seven Gods must have despised him for what he had done.

He was also afraid to see his future wife.

He was afraid of the disappointment that was to come.

Dalton Greyjoy received them with reserve. He used the proper titles for them, but Aemond felt that he didn't want to see them at all, and he treated the whole thing as purely political himself.

"My daughter is a true Iron Woman, not some delicate flowers you have in your King's Landing, my prince. I give you my greatest gem." He said as if in pain, lowering his head, his wrinkled, stern face looking tired and impatient. Aemond pursed his lips, thinking that he would gladly let him keep his daughter if it were up to him.

After a while the gates opened. Aemond pursed his lips and froze, feeling his throat tighten painfully at the sight of his future wife.

His mistress from the night before approached Dalton Greyjoy cheerfully, smiling broadly. She was dressed in a beautiful, simple, black, suede dress with long sleeves, reaching down to the floor, her dark hair was loose. Even though she wasn't wearing any jewelry, she looked dignified.

"Father." She spoke softly, then turned and bowed before him.

"My prince."

_____

I'll be absent tomorrow, so tomorrow's chapter I'm posting today. Be sure to read my new oneshot I posted this morning, I'm very proud of it. Enjoy! 💖

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13 @snh96 @diosademuerte @rwdkarla

[claymoresword]

The Queen And Her Knight | Chp: 2

Alicent Hightower x Knight Fem!Reader

Summary: Alicent Hightower against her better judgement, falls in love with her sworn protector. Can she bear to fight her feelings or will she finally just give in?

Pairing: Alicent Hightower x Reader

Wordcount: 3.6k

Warnings: Smut(?), Angst, Harsh language, Mention of abuse, Aegon ii targaryen sympathiser, Reader and Alicent can't stay away from each other if they tried

Note: Bare in mind that I am writing this with very surface level knowledge of the Greyjoys and asoiaf in general so apologies if i write anything wildly inaccurate its not my intention to offend! Also disclaimer: i aged dalton greyjoy up in the story to make the narrative more logical

As usual i hope you enjoy and let me know what u think!

Chapter 3

Alicent awakes from her restless slumber. Her body was exhausted beyond belief pleading for sleep to take over and yet her mind had other plans.

She had spent the entire hour of the wolf weeping. Recalling her encounter with y/n and everything she had said. Everything she wishes she could have said.

It was now dawn, only a few minutes until the sun rises. Moments until she will never have to see you again.

Alicent gets up from her bed, situating herself beside it. On her knees, she begins to pray. She prays for strength, she begs to the gods to make all of this bearable. She wants so badly for her feelings for you to be squandered. Alicent spent countless nights praying for the same, she quickly realised it doesn't work that way.

The Queen was prepared to spend the entire morning practicing her faith, asking for forgiveness as the events of last night haunted her. Looming over her like a dark cloud. She feels guilty for kissing you, even more guilty for enjoying it.

Alicent couldn't help but feel entirely responsible. Her status meant she had dominion over you. She blames herself for allowing you to grow fond of her. It is her fault for abusing her power, you are entitled to your own feelings but she is far from innocent.

Alicent recalls her mother's words, her father's abhorred gaze.

She had been through this with the Princess and now she had done it again with you.

Rhaenyra.

Tears flow out of the Queen's eyes again and she shuts them tightly. Her childhood companion threatening the forefront of her mind, demanding to be remembered.

Alicent begins to pray again, she recites loudly. A desperate attempt to silence her mind, her heart.

A knock at the door and the auburn haired woman lets out a sigh. She glances over at the window, the sun streaming in. Alicent feels relief and dread all the same.

She stands up and grabs her robe, covering herself up for modesty.

"Come." Alicent announces.

Her handmaiden Talya walks in and does a curtesy before speaking.

"Lady y/n has began her departure your grace. I came to see if you would like my help to get dressed, if her grace would like to see the lady off?" Talya asks earnestly.

"Yes, Talya thank you. Help me dress, but I will not be seeing lady y/n. I would like to attend to the King and get started on my duties for the day."

Talya doesn't not attempt to hide her confusion at the Queens words but decides to question her no further.

"Ofcourse, Your Grace."

--

Alicent had been at the sept for all hours that morning. She missed breakfast and hadn't greeted her children yet, a routine she rarely broken.

Alicent couldn't bare to face them, she had no desire to see anybody.

Heavy footsteps approach her, interrupting the Queen mid prayer.

"Mother!"

She recognised the voice immediately. Her son. His tone had quickly given him away but the look on his face solidified it. He was angry.

Alicent swiftly stands up and faces her son.

"Imagine my surprise mother, when I took to the field prepared to spar with my usual partner and yet Ser Criston was sent for me instead."

Alicent breaks her son's gaze and glances down but says nothing. 

Aemond continues.

"Please allow me to understand dear mother, why did you send her away?"

The prince's tone now gentle, a rather abrupt shift of demeanor from just a moment ago.

"I no longer saw need for lady y/n services. I am perfectly content with Ser Criston as protector."

Alicent falsely admits, shocked at her own ability to sound poised while telling a blatant fib.

Aemond scoffs, he is no longer angry but in disbelief.

"Did you think to ask me for an opinion? Or even Helaena for that matter."

"You may no longer need her but we do. Cole is competent enough but he provides no real challenge, and he is certainly no confidant. I saw lady Y/n as an equal" Aemond pauses.

"She was my friend."

Alicent's heart shatters. She had been so caught up in her own problems with you that she had failed to considered her own children.

"I apologise Aemond, truly. I did not realise how much she meant to you." The queen admits rather sheepishly.

"Your Grace, I do not want your apology. Please just ask for her return." Aemond storms off quickly, as if incapable of bearing another second alone with his mother.

Tears well up in Alicent's eyes again, perhaps she had acted too rashly. She decides her children's needs far surpass her own, she will make things right.

--

You were in bed at home, two weeks since leaving King's Landing.

The moment you stepped foot in the Iron Islands you had reverted back to your old self. No longer a Knight of the Queensguard you decided nothing you do now will matter.

You took to the brothels, drinking all hours of the day. Sleeping with every and any whore who will have you. You couldn't allow yourself to think of the Queen, you felt you had to either numb the pain or die from it.

Your head pounding from the night before you reached over to your bedside to grab a cup of water, gulping it down.

Soon you realise you were not alone, another woman naked in your bed. You do not recognise her, you try your hardest to recall the events of last night but to no avail.

The woman turns over in her sleep and moves to wrap her arm around your torso.

Her touch felt repellent, wrong. A suffocating feeling overcoming you. You got out of bed and headed towards the door. You just needed to get out.

--

You found yourself by the sea, the smell of the saltwater had quickly calmed you. However, solitude forced your mind to wander. Inevitably your thoughts settled on Alicent. You did not bother to fight them this time. You found yourself wondering about her. Who she's been with today, if she had eaten, if she has slept. Was she truly content now that you were away?

Her absence, it weighs on you heavily. You feel it in your chest, your entire body aches to be around her, to feel her. The only solace left are your memories of the Queen. This fills you with an overwhelming dread, but you are strangely comforted by the knowledge that you still had the power of your mind to rely on.

"Y/n!" A voice breaks you out your thoughts.

You turn to see your brother, speedily walking towards you. A piece of parchment in his hand.

"Rodrik, what's wrong?"

Your brother doesn't respond but extends his arm to you urging you to grab the letter in his hand.

You looked down at it but didn't move, skeptical.

"Came for you from King's Landing" Rodrik explains.

You wasted not another moment and snatched the parchment from his hands. You tear it open and quickly skimmed its contents, you couldn't believe it. The Queen had written to you.

Dearest Y/n,

I would like to first, extend my apology. Sending you away was an act of impulse on my part. I claim to value duty above all, but I let my emotions guide my judgement and for that I am truly sorry. You have served me well and faithfully. I could not have asked for a more competent Knight. I write in hopes that you will find it in your heart to forgive me, as well as accept your previous post as my sworn guard. Prince Aemond has expressed his unhappiness with my decision to dismiss you. My Helaena has also refused to speak to me properly and grown entirely despondent. Prince Aegon may have not plainly stated his thoughts, however, his dejection is hard to miss. I realise now the grave mistake I have made. The children miss you dearly y/n. I miss you. I ask you to please return to King's Landing and serve me once more, I will do everything in my power to make it worth your while. Do consider my proposal. I anxiously await your reply.

Sincerely,

Your Queen Alicent.

'I miss you'.

You read the letter once more. The Queen's words ignited something deep inside you. You recognise how difficult it must've been for her to write to you. She was vulnerable and she let you see it through this letter.

You stood for a moment deliberating, you had so much love for the Queen's children, even Prince Aegon. He has acted disagreeable in more than one occasion but strangely enough you understood his intentions and he respected you the same.

You let out a sigh. To return to King's Landing is to open yourself up to her again. A great risk you are not sure you could bear to take.

You had entirely forgotten your brother was stood beside you, watching you the entire time until he spoke again.

"Go back to her y/n. You are clearly miserable here. I truly had not seen you half as happy as you were when I visited you serving under the Queen." Your brother expressed truthfully.

"Father will never let me go, Rodrik. He was already hesitant to welcome me back after all that time I spent away from home. If I disobey him again he might disown me entirely."

You were conflicted.

Your heart is asking you to return to your queen but logic and reason is telling you to stay.

"You are wise to worry but let me ask you this, has father once ever acted in your favour? We live our entire lives trying to please him but what has he truly done for us? Did you forget the way he treated our mother? You may be right to want to spare his feelings but I swear y/n, we owe him nothing."

There was truth what your brother said. Your father was a selfish man, never once asked what his children needed. Your mother was a kind woman, her fate doomed when she fell in love with him.

She deserved better.

You deserve better.

You decide you will return to King's Landing.

"Thank you brother, you speak the truth. I will begin my journey back to King's Landing come the morrow." You state genuinely.

A proud smile flashes across his face and you smile at him in return.

---

You found yourself in a screaming match with your father, Lord Dalton. You had just told him of your plans to resume your post as protector of the queen.

"Do think yourself above me, y/n? " Your father accuses.

"Now that you have the Queen asking after you, you think you are allowed to do as you please?" He raises his voice.

You suppress the urge to scoff, Lord Greyjoy and his never ending ability to underestimate you.

"I am a woman grown, father. Therefore entitled to my own decisions."

"I will not let you smother me the way you did my mother." You taunted, knowing the consequence that'll follow. You still couldn't deny how good it felt.

Your father moves to strike you but you quickly dodge it.

He tries to gather himself after failing to hit you, face reddened with anger.

You begin to walk away, no longer possessing the patience to be near him.

He grabs your arm harshly forcing you to stop walking and hear his next words.

"If you decide to leave y/n, do not bother coming back." Your father says before releasing your arm.

You look up at him with a scowl.

"You are no child of mine." He says, tone dripping with disdain.

Being a girl in a family that only consisted of boys, your father's rejection was nothing foreign. You were used to it. You had decided long ago to never seek any sort of validation from him as it only led to your disappointment.

He intended for his words to cut you but you stopped giving him the satisfaction long ago.

You storm off without another word and headed to your rooms.

Morning comes and you swiftly aboard the Greyjoy ship supplied by your brother. You were eternally thankful to have him in your life. Rodrik being the only person in your family who truly cared for you.

He grabs your shoulder, urging you to meet his gaze.

"What is dead may never die."

A saying you were all too familiar with.

You nod, understanding the true meaning behind his words.

"I love you, brother." You say before making your way onto the ship, finally setting sail for King's Landing.

--

You arrive at the Red Keep and were immediately greeted by Aemond and Helaena. The Queen stood by them, at a distance.

Helaena meets your gaze and a large smile flashes across your face. The Princess wasted no time, she runs up to you and pulls you into a tight embrace.

"Don't you ever abandon me like that again Y/n." Haelena exclaims.

You let out a chuckle, a true talent for dramatics. Much like her dear mother.

"I promise that was never my intention Princess. I had rather urgent business in the Iron Islands." You lie, hoping Helaena would lessen the blame on her mother and warm up to her again.

You look up at Alicent as she watches the entire interaction before her. She throws you a genuine smile as a silent 'thank you'. You return it.

Helaena releases you from her grip and you turn your attention to Aemond.

He surprises you by also pulling you into a hug. Albeit, the embrace ended quicker than his sister's but you could feel his sincerity.

"It is good to have you back my lady." Aemond's words were accompanied by a fond smile.

"I must admit I have missed your company my Prince."

"I hope your sparring skills have not waned in my abscene, that would be most dissapointing." You jest as Aemond's smile grows.

"Helaena, we seem to be missing your lord husband, where is he?"

"My best guess, he is still asleep in his chambers. I imagine a long night of whoring in the streets of silk can be terribly depleting" Aemond remarks and Haelena shifts uncomfortably.

"Ah, and here I thought the Prince missed me." You quip, at an attempt to lighten the mood.

"I almost forgot, I have something for you Princess." You watch Helaena's eyes light up immediately.

You pull out a book from your satchel. You came across it wandering the city one night and thought of her. You had plans to gift it to her by raven but circumstances allowed you to now hand it to her in person. 

A book detailing all the organisms and insects that can be found in the Iron Islands. It was rather hefty and informational, not a book you'd personally enjoy but you knew the princess found joy in these things.

Helaena pulls you into an embrace once again and you let out a real laugh this time.

"Thank you. I love it." Heleana admits sincerely and it warms your heart.

Alicent finally walks up to you, a look on her face you can't quite read. Perhaps she's glad you are back but embarrassed she sent you away, you could not truly say for certain.

"Come, Lady y/n must be exhausted from her journey. Let us allow her to rest." Alicent says gesturing to her children.

---

You were laying in bed. You had managed to sleep off most of the journey but now that you are energized it was only hours past dinner time and your duties don't resume until the morrow. Right now, you are left with nothing to do.

Just as you turn over to try and resume your slumber there is a knock at your door. You assumed it to be Ser Criston or one of the handmaidens as nobody else visits you this late.

"Yes? Come in"

The door to your chambers open and the Queen walks in.

You stand up, scrambling to find something to cover up with. You were only in your small clothes and breeches. Eventually finding your robe, you put it on.

"Apologies for my lack of decency Your Grace, I was not expecting company."

The queen gestures for you to relax.

"I will only be here a moment."

"My reason for being here is- Well I wanted to say- I would like to just-". Alicent stutters and you fail to hide your amusement.

Your heart swells at the sight of her stumbling over her words before you. The queen has never seemed so ordinary, so human.

"I must admit, during your arrival earlier today I could not find the proper words. I thought to visit you here and try again but clearly, words are failing me still."

You didn't respond, allowing the auburn haired woman to continue.

"I just wanted to thank you. For coming back. I also wanted to again, extend my apology."

You walked towards the Queen, interrupting her mid sentence.

"I do not need your apology, Your Grace. If I truly held any ill feelings I would not be here."

You extend your hand, placing in on top of Alicent's.

It was indecent, but you needed her to know you truly meant what you were saying.

"I forgive you." You admit, maintaining eye contact with the queen.

You watch as tears well up in her eyes and her gaze softens.

She grabs your hand, intertwining your fingers. The feeling of her hand in yours making your heart skip a beat. You had spent countless nights yearning to touch her again. Now that you are, you feel the urge to pinch yourself just to make sure you weren't dreaming.

Your eyes shift to the Queens lips for a moment and you hear her breath hitch. The air in the room feels thick, your own chest heaving as breathing suddenly became difficult.

You knew you had to step away from her, terminate all physical contact.

Instead, you found yourself leaning in. Your lips crashing into hers.

Alicent lets out a noise in surprise but doesn't make an effort to push you away.

You took this as a sign to keep going. Your hands settling on her waist, you grip it harshly as her own hand grabs the back of your neck in response.

You make quick work of deepening the kiss, your tongue enters her mouth and a  moan spills out of her lips.

The both of you now completely overtaken by desire. You walk Alicent backwards pushing her up against the wall next to the window. You disconnect the kiss, to move your attention to her neck, placing wet kisses against it.

Alicent chokes out another moan, one hand still grabbing your neck her other moves down to the hem of your breeches, roughly pulling you in closer to her. Your hips buck in response and you fight the urge to grind into her as you desperately needed the friction.

You lips finds Alicent's again and this time she takes the opportunity to enter her tongue into your mouth. This sends your body into overdrive. You needed to have her now.

"Y/n" Alicents says breathlessly as soon as your lips disconnected. She was asking you for something but you were unsure. Did Alicent want you to stop? Or did she want you to keep going?

As it seems you were not going to receive your answer as the door to your chambers suddenly flies opens.

You quickly stumble back away from the queen and Alicent pushes herself off the wall trying her best to steady herself.

"So it is true! You are back!" Aegon exclaims sauntering over to you.

You do not respond and instead glanced over at Alicent, she looked slightly dishevelled but otherwise a picture of grace. Her hands clasped over her abdomen, she stands up straight. To the untrained eye, absolutely nothing unseemly has taken place here tonight.

She truly is good at this. You were captivated.

"Oh, hello mother." Aegon says.

"I had only wished to get caught up with my dear friend y/n, it has been entirely too long since I have last seen her." The prince remarks.

Alicent smiles at her son, it does not reach her eyes.

"Ofcourse, I will leave you." Alicent says, stealing a glance at you before walking out.

Shit.

You definitely had gone too far once again. The queen may never want to be near you now.

"Y/n , what do you say? Fancy a walk with me around the city?" Aegon asks you joyfully.

"My prince, it is nearly the hour of the bat. I think its wise I rest before resuming my duties on the morrow."

The prince lets out a groan.

"I will not force you out till late, I promise."

You stare at him, genuinely deliberating.

"Come on, where is that sense of adventure?" He urged one last time.

"Fine. I ought to keep an eye on you anyway. I will meet you outside, I need to dress."

Accomplished smile on his lips, Aegon walks out of your chambers.

You sigh recalling what just happened between you and the queen. Anxiety overcoming you once again. You hated being apart from Alicent and yet entirely dreaded the thought of seeing her in the morning.

Pushing those thoughts aside you choose to focus on Aegon and the time you are about to spend with him. You will have to face the queen again soon enough. You decide there is no point in agonizing over it.

[cosmoeticss]

The Pact | Aegon Targaryen Modern!AU (part one)

Words: 4.3K

Pairing: modern!Aegon Targaryen II x reader, slight Dalton Greyjoy x reader

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI Cheating, caught cheating, swearing, underage drinking, eventual smut. this is my ‘rom com’ fic so please expect rom com level corniness.

Note: This is probably gonna run for about 4 or 5 parts depending on how I lay it out but I’m so excited to share it with you. Also aegon isn’t show canon aegon obviously, I’m just very in love with tgc I pulled it from another random idea I had wrote out months ago with no plot line and made it into this. I hope y’all enjoy it.

my masterlist

seventeen

The summer you turned seventeen had seemed never ending while you had been living it. The hot nights were spent next to your best friend, sneaking out to parties, stealing bottles from Aegon’s fathers liquor cabinet, and climbing out of bedroom windows to stargaze and ponder what the future would hold for you both. It wasn’t until that fateful August night – the night of his older sister's wedding – when you both had exhausted the dance floor and small talk with distant family members and friends, that you felt in the air that it was coming to an end.

You were sitting at your assigned table, music from the reception blaring as you finally discarded the sandals that had been hurting your feet all night, when you felt fingers brush your shoulder, grabbing your attention. You snapped your attention to the culprit, none other than Aegon Targaryen moseying past you, a bottle of Casterly Rock red wine tucked discreetly behind his back as he beckoned you to follow. You gave him a lopsided grin, jumping from your seat to grab on to his arm as you both made a break for the exit. 

“Did they just let you take that?” you exclaimed, the excitement of getting caught jumping in your chest.

“I snuck in the kitchens while no one was paying attention,” he explained, arm linked with yours as he led you to a patch of soft grass outside the gardens of the Red Keep. 

“And no one saw?” you raised an eyebrow at him, stifling a giggle as you both found your place on the ground next to each other. 

“Don’t act so surprised, I can be sneaky,” he furrowed his brow, feigning offense. “Like a ninja.”

An earnest laugh bubbled in your chest as you took the bottle from him, making quick work of breaking the seal and attempting to remove the cork. “Of course, because the first thing I think of when I look at you is ninja.” 

“Let me,” he snatched it back, rolling his eyes as you struggled. He winced as he tugged at the cork with all his might, letting out a breath of relief at the satisfying ‘pop’ as he finally freed it. “I’ve never had wine before. My mum drinks it all the time, though.” He admitted, passing it back to you.

“Alicent is a woman of taste. This isn’t just wine, Aeg,” you said, mimicking a dramatic posh accent as you lifted the bottle to your nose to breathe in the bitter, fruity scent. “It’s very fancy, expensive wine for very fancy, expensive people.”

Aegon chuckled, eyeing her as she sized up the thick, deep red liquid.. “Well tonight, we are very fancy people, so bottoms up, mate.”

You took a deep breath, raising the bottle to your lips and grimacing as the liquid reached your taste buds. Coughing at the flavor, you reluctantly swallowed the large swig you’d taken down, gagging in disgust as you handed the bottle back to Aegon who was already in stitches. 

“Don't laugh!” you whined, only slightly embarrassed as you laid back in the grass. “It’s disgusting! I thought it was supposed to be good, your mum is mad if she drinks that all the time.” 

“What happened to her being a woman of taste?” he took a big swig, handling it with much more grace than you had but expression still twisting with distaste as he spun the bottle to read the label. “Yeah, that's rank.” 

“I told you.”

“Maybe we’re drinking it wrong,” he took another drink before setting it down and laying back with you, bringing his arm to rest under his head. 

You rolled your eyes half heartedly. “How can you even drink something wrong?” you poked, fingers weaving through the blades of grass between the two of you.

“I dunno, maybe we’re not fancy or expensive enough,” he teased, his hand falling from his stomach to scoop yours up, fiddling with it as you both admired the clear sky above you, the smell of fall air just lingering in the distance like smoke.

You giggled sweetly. “Yeah, that’s it,” he hummed at your response. “I’ll stick with my good ol’ Vodka Cran’s, thank you very much.”

He groaned in mock annoyance. “You and those Vodka Cran’s.”

You pointed your joined hand at the bottle sitting unevenly in the grass. “They taste better than that, I’ll tell you what.” 

He shrugged, smirking lightly at your defensiveness. “Cheaper too, I suppose.”

“Right,” you teased.

“Right,” Aegon squeezed your fingers as you two fell into a comfortable silence, the boisterous sounds of Rhaenyra and Harwin’s reception muffled by the distance and the chirping of nearby crickets were the only noise filling the air.

“I can’t believe Breakbones really cried when Nyra came down the aisle,” Aegon mused softly, breaking the pause. “I can,” you shook your head fondly at the memory of earlier today, as his fell to the side to look at you as you spoke. “He’s all big and tough on the outside, but on the inside the man is nothing but a softy, I swear it.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever get married?” Aegon pondered, studying your vague expression, brows furrowing as he tried to decipher what you were thinking. “What?” He pressed as you didn’t answer straight away, lost in thought.

You snapped out of whatever trance the question put you in, finally meeting his gaze. “Um,” your eyes averted, blowing raspberries through your lips as you thought. “I dunno. I hope so.”

“What do you mean you ‘hope so?’”

You shrugged shyly in what felt like defeat. “I mean I want to someday, it’s just,” you paused, feeling a bit silly about what you were about to admit. “Seeing your sister and Harwin today, like they really love each other.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, still confused at where you were going with this.

“I just have a hard time believing anyone will ever love me that much,” you huffed, and his face softened. “Like I can’t imagine anyone ever wanting to be with me like that. I just don’t see it ever happening for me.”

Aegon shook his head in disagreement. “(Y/N), I’m saying this as kindly as I possibly can, but that’s complete bullshit,” you veered your attention back up to the stars, and hoped Aegon wouldn’t see your cheeks burning red. “You’re gorgeous, and like, the best person I know. There’s no way you’re gonna end up alone.” 

“You think?” you frowned, holding back the tears that we’re pricking at your eyes. 

“I know it,” he insisted. “Anyone who doesn’t see it is stupid.” 

“Thanks, Aeg,” you fell into another silence, this one less peaceful than the last. 

“I’ll marry you,” he muttered and nudged you then, causing you to chuckle.

“Would you now?” you rolled your eyes.

“I would!” he sat up slightly, shifting to his side and looking down on your jovial expression. “What? Do you think I wouldn’t be a good husband?”

You burst into playful laughter, softly hitting his chest with the back of your hand. “No, I’m sure you’d be a brilliant husband,” you jested, sarcasm evident in your town.

“I’m serious,” he raised his eyebrows at her, his bemused smile outing him entirely.

You put up your hands defensively. “I’m sure you are.”

“I think we’d be a great married couple,” he offered, rattling off the next few things that came to mind. “We already spend every day together, and they always say you should marry your best friend. Our wedding should be half as big as this one, though. It’s more intimate that way. With more dancing and better booze.” 

You beamed at him in awe. “You’ve just got a pros and cons list, have you?”

“It’s been a very tough decision, but everyone else is insufferable so I might as well marry the one person who isn’t,” he affirmed, very matter-of-factly.

“And you’re so sure that I would want to marry you?” 

His eyes fluttered over your face in admiration, your fingers still intertwined between you as he toyed with them thoughtfully. The action made your breath catch in your throat as you suddenly took note of how close you actually were.

“I’ll make you a deal,” Aegon rasped, mulling something over in his head a moment, thinking it through before putting it fully out there. “If we’re both not married or in a serious relationship when we’re twenty-seven, we’ll marry each other.”

“Ten years from now?” your eyes widened. 

Aegon smirked. “Yes seventeen plus ten is twenty-seven,” he chaffed, causing you to smack him on the chest again.

“Thirty,” you wagered. 

He shook his head softly. “Twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-eight?” you raised an eyebrow, he pursed his lips as he pondered your bargain.

“Twenty-seven and a half,” he detangled your fingers to offer out his pinky, you eyed it a moment before interlocking it with yours.

“Deal,” you whispered breathlessly. “Stamp it.” You twisted your hand to press your thumbs together. 

“Uh-oh,” he grinned. “That’s legally binding now.” 

“Uh-oh,” you busted out in a genuine laugh then, throwing your head back as he joined in with you, lying back down on the ground next to you and wrapping you up in his arms and pulling you into his chest. “I better make quick work of finding a husband if I want to get rid of you.”

“Silly girl,” he dropped a chaste kiss to the top of your head as you both drank in the night sky and the sweet dwindling of summer warmth. “You’ll never be rid of me.”

twenty-six

The second you had woken up that morning, you knew it was going to be a strange day. Strange was one way to put it. It had been the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that you had noticed while only half awake that morning, that hadn’t gone away no matter what you did. You weren't hungry, nor did you feel sick like you were going to spill the contents of your guts at any sudden moment, it was just that ever present sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that followed you the whole day.

That sinking feeling, combined with the staleness in the air at The Golden Stag – the pub where you worked – and the King’s Landing summer heat swallowing you whole was what you thought really did you in. There you were, hunched over the cash register taking deep breaths. Her back was turned from the mild crowd, one hand gripping the POS monitor and the other twisted in a fistful of hair to keep it off your shoulders.

Gods, a shower would fix most of my problems right now, you thought, the thin layer of sweat covering you was only making things worse. You were almost so wrapped up in trying to will your ailments away with your mind that you didn’t notice your shift leader, Cassandra Baratheon, approaching from behind to use the register you were currently hogging. 

As if on cue, you finally felt her presence, jolting from your spot to lean on the bar next to the register. “Sorry, did you need this?” you mumble as you do.

Cass cocks an eyebrow at you, “No worries,” she says as she begins punching in an order, her warm green eyes only leaving you to check the screen.  “Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You don't look so good, lovey.” 

“I’m probably fine,” you brush her off. “I’ve just been feeling a little off all day.”

Cassandra doesn't seem convinced. She looks over her shoulder, scanning around the room before bringing her attention back to you as you picked up a plastic laminated menu and began fanning your glistening chest with it. “Y’know we’re pretty dead,” she reasons. “If you wanna head out, no one would be mad.”

“What if it picks up?” you try, not wanting to sound too eager to bail so early in the night. Cassandra lifts up her wrist, her watch screen illuminating her face as she does.

“It’s almost one, love. I’m sure if we were gonna pick up we would’ve by now,” she pinched your elbow playfully. Gods bless this angel of a woman.

“I’m sure we’ll survive two more hours without you.”

You sent her a grateful look. “I’m sure I’ll feel better tomorrow.”

Cass rolls her eyes playfully at this, “Yeah, yeah. Just get out of my bar and go home,” she grins as she says it. “Make that himbo boyfriend of yours take care of you, I want you better by 6 tomorrow, missy.”

“Dalton? Coming anywhere near me while I’m sick?” you scoffed in spite of yourself as you collected your purse and keys, imagining it. “I highly doubt that will ever happen.”

“Jerk,” she frowned. “Tell him I said hi anyway, and be safe going home, would ya?.” 

“I will,” you called over your shoulder, shuffling out to the street and starting the five block trek back home. You had met Dalton Greyjoy at work, a couple months after you and Aegon had first moved into the city after university four years ago. He was a regular at the Stag, and hit on you relentlessly for weeks until you finally took him up on his offer to let him take you on a date. Everything fell into routine after that first date, two months later you were official, and eight months after that you were moving out of yours and your best friends shared flat and into Dalton’s one bedroom down the street from your work.

Though it was a complete change of pace from having spent nearly everyday together since you’d met, Aegon didn’t mind. Sure, he wasn’t Dalton Greyjoy’s biggest fan but, he wanted you to be happy, and you seemed happy enough. It wasn’t like he particularly needed you to help with rent. He would have used his trust fund for the both of you to live there if you had allowed it, but you weren’t one to take handouts even from him. So your nightly chats under the starlit Westerosi sky turned to weekly chats and sometimes took place over the phone after a long weekend shift. And your days spent always together became midday coffee runs a few times a week, and tipsy visits while you were bartending with whoever he was seeing this month. 

The newest one was called Sara, who despite her passive aggressive jealousy whenever you were around each other, seemed good for him. You didn’t know if this one would last, as they often didn’t, but had hoped regardless for Aegon’s sake.

The walk home had not been as bad as you had set it up to be, it was the rickety elevator in your building stamped with a neon yellow ‘out of order’ sign that was the real bitch. On any other night, the five flights up would be nothing, annoying at most, but now you were considering making a new home for yourself on the second floor landing. You paused as you made it to the third floor finally, bracing yourself against the wall as your chest heaved to give yourself a break. 

Gods, all you wanted was your bed and some peace and quiet, and it was so close, almost right in reach. “Come on, (Y/N).” You mumbled to yourself, forcing your legs to continue on. When you finally reached your door, you pressed your forehead to the hardwood, dropping your purse from your shoulder and fumbling around for your keys before your fingers grazed the familiar plastic souvenir keychain Aegon had got you on your summer trip to Dorne last year. You unlocked the door, before stepping inside and pressing your back to the door to shut it, taking several deep breaths. Your lungs were putting in overtime, as if you’d just run a marathon. 

As you finally steadied yourself, you moved to slide down the door to sit on the floor and finally remove your non-slip sneakers. As your fingers fumbled with the laces, you heard a muffled sound coming from your bedroom, almost as if your boyfriend had left the TV on in bed. “Babe?” You called out, ears perking to listen for a reply that didn't come. You furrowed your brow, eyes narrowing on an unfamiliar purse on the kitchen island in front of you.

Your breath caught as you halted the unlacing of your shoes and your gaze traveled to the ground next to you to find a pair of women's trainers that certainly weren’t yours. 

No. You thought sharply, that sinking feeling that had been plaguing you all day gathering as bile in the back of your throat. Absolutely not.

You stood slowly, not fully registering what you knew you would find on the other side of your bedroom door. Your steps were achingly slow as you approached, fingers reaching out to graze the door handle, your eyes falling shut as the muffled noises became clearer. You swallowed the dreadful acidic feeling and mustered all the courage you had in you to twist the knob and push open the door.

They didn’t notice you at first, Dalton and the pretty brunette underneath him that he was rutting into, the girl who was certainly not you. The bile rose again, as you finally were able to find your voice. “What the fuck is this?” You spat, nausea taking over as the girl gasped and your boyfriend halted his actions, cursing as he pulled out of her and covered himself.

“Shitshitshitshit,” he hissed, frantically scrambling to find his boxers. “Babe, this isn’t what it looks like.”

Don’t cry. 

“I’m gonna be sick,” you uttered, turning quickly on your heel to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before the contents of your stomach spilled out of you. You gripped the bowl tightly, hunching over and retching, as your body finally relieved itself of that nauseating, sinking feeling. You were left gasping for air when you were finally done, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“(Y/N)?” Dalton whispered, fingers barely reaching your shoulder before you smacked them away harshly.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” you hissed, using what was left of your energy to push yourself to your feet.

Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry.

“Babe,” he rambled desperately, following her through the apartment as you hastily made your way to the closet. “I swear it’s not what it looks like. I don’t even really know her, it was just a one time thing.”

The girl, still tucked under your covers didn’t dare move or interject as you gathered any article of clothing in arms reach of you and stuffed it in an overnight back. “Oh, it was just a one time thing, was it?” you exclaimed, sarcasm dripping like honey from your lips.

“Yes! I swear!”

“Fuck you, Dalton. Is that supposed to make a fucking difference?” you shoved past him, and back into the bathroom to gather all your toiletries and stuff them haphazardly into the bag.

“Please, (Y/N). Let me explain,” he was right on your tail, a pitiful look on his face that made you want to bury your fist into it. “Can’t we talk about this?”

You scoffed. “There’s nothing to explain, I understand perfectly what’s going on here.”

“What are you doing?” 

“Leaving.” you stated, matter-of-factly.

“Where?”

You barked out an insincere laugh. “I don’t see how that’s any of your fucking business, Dalton.”

His expression changed then, to something almost angry at the flip of a switch as you brushed past him to the door. “Oh, I don’t even have to ask, do I?” “I’d prefer if you didn’t, you fucking asshole,” you grabbed your spare pair of shoes by the door, making it the last thing you grabbed in your rage. “Besides, I don’t think you have any room to be patronizing me about Aegon when you were just fucking someone in our bed!” Your hand grabbed hold of the doorknob. “Fine, leave then,” Dalton threw his hands up dramatically. “Run home to your little boyfriend.” 

Your head snapped, over your shoulder, stricken with disbelief as you shook your head. You wanted to say something clever, something just outright mean, something that would really hit him where it hurt. You wanted to be brave and put him right in his place, but no words came to you. You just stood there in the doorway, frozen in place, and utterly dumbfounded. 

When you finally came to, you simply turned back to the door, opening it swiftly and slamming it shut behind you, stumbling down the five flights and into the street.

You finally let the tears fall then, a strangled sob erupting from deep within you as hot tears flowed freely and mascara ran down your cheeks. You took off walking through the city without a second thought – a babbling, crying, mess – to the only other place you wanted to be.

The sharp chime of the doorbell rang through Aegon’s townhouse a little after two, followed by a pounding on his door. He groaned, curling deeper into his covers in annoyance. “I don’t wanna,” he whined, hoping the assailant would get the picture and leave. It was to no avail though, the bell rang twice more, followed by that same hastened pounding. 

He practically growled as he gave in, throwing the covers harshly off of him, making his way to the door. “Alright, I’m coming!” Aegon shouted frustratedly, not bothering to check the peephole to see who was waking him at this hour as he unlocked the door and flung it open. “Seven Hells, what?” 

Aegon’s temper diffused at the sight in front of him. You stood pitifully before him, hands full, hair disheveled, eyes rung red and mascara running down your swollen cheeks from crying. “(Y/N)?” he pulled you through the door frame without a second thought, tense worry painted over his face. He shut the door behind you and helped to drop your bags to the floor. “What on earth is wrong, sweetheart?”

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” you hiccupped as he took your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the tears that flowed freely. “I didn’t know where else to go, Dalton, he–” 

Aegon’s jaw clenched when you couldn’t bring yourself to finish. “Did he hurt you?”

“No,” you shook your head frantically. “He didn’t touch me.” 

“What did he do?” Aegon tried to remain calm at the state of you. 

You sniffled, bringing your fingers to wrap around his wrists. “I walked in on him with another girl in our bed,” you sobbed, breaking Aegon’s heart as he pulled you into his chest.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he stroked the back of your head and rubbed circles into your back to comfort you as you wept. “I’m so sorry,” he muttered over and over.

“I was sick all day, and they sent me home from work early,” you lifted your head from his chest to look up at him. “I didn’t know what to do. I just came straight here.” 

“It’s okay, I’m glad you did. Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you cleaned up,” he brushed away the hair stuck to your damp cheeks, taking your hand and grabbing your overnight bag as he gently led you to the bathroom. “Before I drive over there and kill him myself.” 

Aegon wet a washcloth under cold water, handing it over to you to clean your face off. You accepted it gratefully, the cool sensation washing over you as you ran the rag over your face and neck. His lips dropped to your hairline, his hand coming to rub your arm softly. “I’ll grab you a sleep shirt.”

“Thank you,” you muttered hoarsely as he disappeared into the hall. You dug through your bag and the random things you remembered to grab during the fight. Aegon returned after you had nearly finished brushing your teeth, dark green t-shirt in hand. 

He handed it over, leaning against the sink as you rinsed out your mouth. “I haven't touched your room in ages,” he admitted carefully. “Not since you left.” 

Three years. Aegon hadn’t done anything with your room for three years.

“It’s empty then?”

“You took your bed when you left.” 

You nodded thoughtfully, eyes glued to his chest. “I can take the couch and figure things out tomorrow.” 

He shook his head softly. “No need, you can just sleep with me.” “Aegon,” you started. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You didn’t ask,” he shrugged. “And neither am I, come lay down with me. You need some rest and we’ll talk about everything in the morning. It’ll be a slumber party, like old times.”

“I’m not feeling very party right now, Aeg,” you chuckled humorlessly, looking over his facial features cautiously. “And coming from personal experience, I’m sure Sara wouldn’t be pleased to find me snuggled up to her boyfriend.”

If you call what you walked in on ‘snuggling.’

He pressed his lips together, shaking his head. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not her boyfriend anymore then.”

Your eyes widened at his admission. “Aeg, why didn’t you tell me?” you moved to wrap your arms around him in comfort.

“It just happened last night,” he pulled you away to look you in the eye. “It’s alright. We’ll talk about it in the morning though.”

“Aegon—“ You protested as he pulled you carefully by the wrist towards his bedroom.

“In the morning,” he hushed you, straightening out the pillows and blankets that were splayed across his mattress to make room for you next to him as you changed into the shirt in his walk in closet.

When you emerged, clad in only his oversized ‘Hightower Family Reunion’ shirt, Aegon was already nestling under the covers. He gave you a sweet smile when he saw you, throwing them open to beckoning you in. You crawled into the spot beside his, the tension in your shoulders dissolving on the cloud he called a mattress. A sigh of relief slipped from your tear swollen lips, Aegon’s fingers found their home in yours between the two of you and he squeezed them three times, lulling you into relaxation.

You hummed softly, your eyes fluttering closed. The warmth of his bed and the smell of his cologne wrapping around you like a tender hug. “Goodnight, Aegon,” you mumbled sleepily, sinking deeper into the sheets.

“Goodnight, sweet girl,” he whispered, fingers drawing soothing circled into your palm. “I’ll see you when the sun is shining.”

next part

[misguidedasgardian]

The White Dragon (40)

40. Maegor

MASTERLIST

Summary: Your sister as the war, grows uglier by the day 

Pairings: main Harwin Strong x Fem!Targaryen reader

Warnings: cursing, medieval and A song of ice and Fire AU customs, injury, burns, dragon fire, death, violence, armies, death, war and all that comes with it. Might miss some warnings but you know what this is about :) 

+18, MINORS DNI

Wordcount: 3.0 k

Notes:  I know it doesn’t look like, but we are getting close to the end! I hope hehe

“I have come here from far away”, he talked loudly, to all the people gathered, “looking for answers, for the whereabouts of my siblings, and my betrothed”, he said more severely, “I come here following a trail, and I find absolutely nothing”, he growled, he could sense the fear in those people, “I know you had nothing to do with this, so I will ask you one more time… where is he?”, he asked, looking at the senior members of the group there

But he got no answer

He took a tired sigh, he was done with this, he was failed at the one thing he couldn’t fail he grabbed a guy, a random guy, by the back of the neck

Iron borns were supposed to be rough, feisty and tough bastards

But this one whimpered in his hands when he pushed him in front of Karnax, who looked at him and growled loudly, making the men peed his pants

“WHERE IS HE?”, He screamed at the top of his lungs, the people of the crowd flinched, “I swear I will burn this entire fucking island back to the ocean”, he said then, “WHERE IS DALTON GREYJOY?”

Aemond couldn’t help but feel very nervous. He was in his home, where he had lived all his life and now, he was always looking over his shoulder, now he could be treated like a traitor, now they could kill his mother, and him.

He was in the wrong side, not that he regretted it

They would let him see his mother, but he could see his sister, and right now he was coming back to his chambers from seeing her, he entered to find Aemma waiting for him

She smiled warmly at him, like she used to do, oh gods she was so beautiful, he believed

But her face twisted in worry when she saw him

She could tell he was nervous, that he was worried, and also sad, she knew it all, and that hurt her

“What’s the matter?”, he asked, taking her in between his arms, Aemma’s eyes were filled with sadness, brimming with unshed tears

“Do you love me?”, she asked, looking into his eye

“Of course I love you”, he said, with a little offense to his tone, “What is going on?”

“I keep thinking that I have taken everything from you, I made you choose and I think you believe you chose wrong”, Aemond’s confusion showed on his face

“You have never made me choose, what are you talking about?”, he asked, his chest tightened with worry, to see her so distraught 

“You were a prince, the second in line for the throne, you had your family, your siblings, the realms at your feet, the largest and oldest dragon in the world”, she counted, “and now… you only have me, and I can’t help but wonder, that if for you was worth it, to lose everything and only gain me in return”

“You are not to blame on how things happened”, he said firmly, “and I still have Helaena, and the children, my mother is still with us, and my other sister, and my nephews, and you”, he said, kissing the tip of her nose, “I have silverwing”

“I know you wanted that throne”, she said quietly, “I know you wished it was you instead of Aegon”

“Who wouldn’t want to be King?”, he said, “Did I wish for my brother to disappear in the streets of silk and that they choose me to succeed him? yes, but… not like this”, he said, “I would have never go against your mother, and your family”, he said quickly, “I do believe Aegon to be unworthy, I do believe I was worthier than him, but that is it”, he promised, “I’d rather have you, and the family we will going to make”, he promised, “when all of this is over and the dust settles, I will take you from this place, we will have our own lands to look after, and we will have our family”, he promised, taking her hands in his and kissing them, “I promise”, Aemma smiled at him

“I’d like that very much���, she said excitedly 

He holds her tightly against him, caressing her silvery strands.

“You are the most important person in the world to me”, he promised her, “we will survive this, and we will make our own home”

“We will”, she whispered, hugging her husband tightly

“I remember the night he was born”, you whisper into the night air, “King’s Landing lit up with celebration and even from here you could hear all the people feasting and partying from the Streets chanting, “heirs to spare, heirs to spare!” it was incredible”, you narrated 

“I remember all the drunken fights I had to break” laughed Harwin, you turned to look at him

“I don’t want to kill him”, you whispered. The instructions were clear, you were the commander of the allied forces and you were to stop the Green Army marching from Storm’s End towards the capital right now

“You don’t have to”

“Even Aemond failed to convince him to stop this”, you noted, “will he listen to me? he doesn’t even know me”, you said, Harwin walked towards you in the balcony and held you

“You are his older sister”, he whispered

“He doesn’t even know me, but he has been raised by those people”, you said

“You could come to an agreement, you have Alicent, his mother, a Hightower, perhaps you could use her to negotiate”, you nodded

First you were going to try and talk, and if it didn’t work out…

You sighed loudly

If you were forced to end Daeron, you could lose Aemond, and consequently, your own daughter. You don’t know Daeron, but he was still your half brother, still a young man, who had been influenced on this

You barely slept that night

The very next morning you had to leave king’s Landing on dragonback to meet Cregan and his army, against Daeron and the Hightowers, in Haystack in the edges of the King’s Wood

Rhaenyra summoned you early in the morning

You were dressed in a coat of mail, with a leather breastplate with metal details and the three headed armor in your chest, your hair braided out of your face long boots and strong leather pants

You presented in front of your sister ready for war 

“You march in the representation of your Queen”, she said solemnly, and you were not liking what you were feeling against your sister, she had began to anger you, you were beginning to hate her, she had your children and she wouldn’t tell you where they were

She touched your children

She was an enemy now

“I will not forget that”, you said strongly, and it was not a good thing, you were never going to forget the one that made you march to war, and possibly kill and burn thousand of men

You squint your eyes when you saw it, a cut, deep in your sister’s forearm

The throne had cut her

She didn’t seemed to care for your tone, but she knew she couldn’t be pity right now

You abandoned the throne room because you didn’t care if she was done with your or not, you went to do her dirty work

If she was supposed to be the Queen, how did she expect for people to fight battles she was not willing to fight herself?

You met with your children before you departed again, according to Rhaenyra you were all going to go to the battlefield, but you only wanted to get them out of here

You took Aemond’s hand and then one of Aemma’s

“Go home, back to the Whitehall”, you said, and they both nodded, “you bent the knee but Aegon is still out there, Harrenhal is the last post of defense of the Capital from the North”

“We will guard it for you”, said Aemond, and you nodded, you kissed your daughter’s forehead and she smiled sweetly

For some reason you believed they were going to be safer there then here in the Red Keep

You then looked at Helaena and Maekar

“You too”

“I will go with you”, said Maekar, you were starting to shake your head, but he interrupted you, “I’m your eldest son, it is my job”, he said, you sighed but only nodded, you will have a better chance at a Dragon with two of them

And you needed a fast messenger if you needed to communicate something back to King’s Landing or to everywhere else

Dragons where faster than ravens

Helaena and Maekar say goodbye to each other tenderly, she was to go back to Harrenhal with her brother and Aemma

But she stayed in the Red Keep to see her mother, if you only knew that

As your children were saying their farewells, Daemon came to you, he looked angry, he grabbed your arm and took you to the side.

“I want you to end that Targayren cunt”, he demanded angrily

“Then why don’t you go and do it yourself?”, you asked bitterly, “Well, sending other people to do your dirty work, to assassin someone else is something you would do”, he frowned at your words, but if he knew what you were talking about he didn’t show it

“What is that supposed to mean?”, he asked through gritted teeth

“I think you know exactly what I mean”, you growled, releasing yourself from his hold, he let you, “I will do this for you, but after, I will back home with my family”, he looked at you seriously

“You will not sit in the small council for your sister?”

“I think we can both agree that I have done enough to help my sister”, you said back, “it is her throne, now she has to work to keep it”, you bit. He looked at you angrily, paladating your words, his jaw ticked in bother

“It would be truly a shame if your younger children and Stark’s eldest daughter be lost a sea”, and right then you froze

“What?”, you muttered, you couldn’t believe what you were hearing

“You heard me”, he said back, “you have no choice, if you want to see your children again, you will do as I say”

“I understand”, you said severely

You understand very well

And as you left the Keep to go to the Dragonpit accompanied by Maekar, and Harwin, you felt your blood boil

Your uncle and sister had messed with your children

They had to go

You had to go, get away, would you convince your entire family to leave? go away to Essos or beyond? you wouldn’t leave without your children, but with dragons not even the North was far away enough, you had to go further, damn them all

You needed to “come back” to the present when the carriage was traveling through the streets of King’s Landing

You could hear the discontent of the people

They were not happy, your sister when she took the capital “punished” some wealthy lords of the city for having done nothing to stop Aegon, and that did not please the people, she had also raised their taxes to try and recuperate the treasury, to have money in the vaults

That didn’t please the people either

You had heard many people screaming, “Maegor with tits”, or “Rhaenyra the cruel”, it was not a good sign, she did not have the people of King’s Landing. You could feel something brewing in the air. SOmehow you believed she deserved it

You arrived in the Dragonpit, Aerion, Maekar’s dragon did rest there, shortly after, as you were helping your son to fix his mount, Vhaelar landed heavily in the outside courtyard

Growling restlessly

it wasn’t long until you and your son were in the air. Vhaelar was the biggest dragon, and she preferred to fly higher and a little bit behind, and you could tell that that way she could see more clearly if something were coming your way, in this case… another dragon

The fly was short, over the king’s woods, and then the deep wood ended and you found the Northerner army there, camping in the less leafy part of the forest

You landed both your dragons, Harwin right behind you. Cregan went out of the amp to meet you

“Scouts had spotted the Green army”, he said, straight to the point, you only nodded, “they are behind that hill, camped in a valley”

“That doesn’t seem very smart”, Harwin said

“They have a huge dragon with them”, he said, “we have managed to hide, and capture their scouts, sot hey haven’t spotted us yet, but they will” 

“It will be too late”, you said, “we are here now”, he nodded, then you looked at Maekar, “take us to the viewpoint, we will leave our dragons here”.

The sun was hiding when you decided to leave the camp of the northerners and out in the open, and up the hill. You didn't know what to think, what to believe, but for now you had pushed everything that wasn’t related to this direct conflict out of your mind, and you were determined to end this and then recuperate your children, nothing else mattered.

As you reached the top, the Green army was in front of you, occupying the entire valley, from here, you could mount your dragon and fly above them and burn them all.

But that would be such a waste

A loss of life

An unnecessary one

You hated Hightowers at this point, you blamed them for everything that happened starting by Otto, but if you wanted to unite the realm again, you had to make your peace, you couldn’t kill them all, then the Reach would be lost to you forever.

“How do you want to proceed?”, asked Cregan by your side

“I want to speak to Daeron”, you said, decisively

“But mom…”, you only looked at Maekar and he got quiet

“We have to try to stop this”, you reasoned, they agreed with you, “but we don’t have much time, even though we could convince him to retreat, still my sister is not going to be pleased with this, she would want the Hightower’s heads no spikes”

“But what if…”, you heard a growl in the air, and you turned, surprised, to see Rhaegar’s dragon Karnax landing right by Vhaelar’s side down the hill

“Rhaegar?”, asked Maekar, running down the hill to go meet his brother, and you three did too

You dragon nuzzled her son with her snout and Karnax growled lowly but letting himself be petted by his mother, and you believe it was hilarious

Your dragon was very protective of her dragonlings, no matter how big they have gotten, and you could feel her rage for the loss of her smallest one, Greywind

She wanted blood for it. 

But your attention was stolen by your son who approached you

You haven't seen him in a few weeks, and you hugged him tightly, he hugged you back

”I know where they are”, he said, straight to the point

“What?”, you asked, separating from him and looking him in the eyes

“I know where the children and Sarra are”, he said with sparkly eyes and a smile on his face

 And that is all it took

“Let’s go take them back then”, you said firmly. Finally, a way out of this. 

“What are you going to do with the Green Army?”, he asked, looking behind you, you followed his gaze

“I have a plan”, you said firmly, you then looked at Cregan, who also seemed relieved, as his daughter was also missing. “Get me an audience with Daeron”

“What will you do?”, asked Harwin, and you looked at him

“I have his two siblings and his mother n my side”, you said firmly, “I will turn him to my side as well”

“Your side?”, asked Cregan, a small smile appearing on his lips

“Yes”, you said firmly, “it’s time”

By the end of the day, you had in front of you Daeron Targaryen, your youngest brother, and his uncle, Otto’s nephew, Avalon

“We have the greatest army of the Reach”, mocked Abalon, “why would we surrender?”

“I have the Northern army and three grown dragons”, you said, “why wouldn’t I burn you all?”, Daeron was serious, looking directly at you, you turned to him, “you are my brother, i don’t want to hurt you, you are of my blood”

His uncle mocked you, but he didn’t even looked at him, he was only looking at you

“You are doing the bidding of Rhaenyra”, he said then

“And you all are doing the bidding of Otto”, yous aid then, “your mother didn’t want this, your father didn't want this, nobody ever wanted this”, that did make him think about what you were saying

“My mother is a prisoner of the usurper Rhaenyra”, he said then, you had have him for a second, and it was gone now

“I’ve just seen your mother”, you said, “she is perfectly fine, Rhaenyra pardoned her, they were friends once, so she is alright”

“Not my grandfather though”, he said then

“Your grandfather usurped my sister’s throne”, you said then, “he pushed the country into a civil war, he moved you and your brother’s against their own family, he is damned”

“They are my family”, said Daeron, but not yet convinced

“I know you don’t know me”, you said then, “but you are my little brother, and my sons, your nephews of similar ages to you would want to meet you, Aemond married my daughter, your sister will marry my eldest son”, you said gently, “we are bonded by more than only blood, by love”, he was truly thinking about it, “surrender and you can go where you please, if you want to see your mother you will, if you want to see your siblings and nephews you will, if you want to go back to Old Town and live your life in peace we will, and so will you”, you said then, looking at the uncle as well 

“What about Aegon?”, asked Daeron 

“I don’t know”, you admitted, “We don’t even know where he is”

The turned long minutes as you saw him ponder, thinking for an answer, weighting it all in.

And you didn’t know what you were going to do if he refused to surrender. 

Taslist

@tearsarcane @integra1127 @aestmilky @thanyatargaryen @tythaitie @lostinworldofdarkness @voodoogoul @wildmindedbeauty32 @lil-pudd @alicattx @electric-bloo @astaaan-lol @stargaryenx @kaitieskidmore1 @bregarc @lilpnd @jcpenneyyy @janelei @fexibau @ladyoakenshield157 @danielle-leah1997 @lady-ragnvindr @cecilyjmorgenstern @omgsuperstarg @bugheadskid @batprincess1013 @her-fandom-sanctum @holb32 @blue1006 @stargaryenx @grippleback-galaxy @mikariell95 @genesisliveson @mendes-bae @caspianobsessed @notmundane3000 @kamisunshine @just-someone11 @ietss @joliettes @whodis-26

[aphrodisiac-siren]

Dynasty of Flames

Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen-Royce Reader

Summary: Being born into the most respected and equally feared houses in the realm made people look up to you as if you were a god and the devil himself, in equal measure. People say that when a Targaryen is born, the gods flip a coin; and when news of the birth of Daemon's firstborn- a girl, spread, people could only wait in anticipation to see which side of the coin faced up during her birth.

Y/N slowly starting to turn into Daemon 2.0

Warnings: Incest (duh) swearing.

Part 1, part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Part 9

Aemond won duel after duel, the crowd going absolutely ballistic after every single one of his victories and Y/N couldn’t be prouder of him. She remembered him as a child going on and on about how he would someday win tourneys, how those hopes came crashing down when he lost his eye. He'd written to her, telling her of how the maesters had informed him that he would never be able to fight after the incident.

Yet here he was, in all his glory, standing victorious of yet another round of a duel.

Daemon, nor Jace and Luke, seemed as thrilled about this as Y/N was. Rhaenyra too was a bit surprised to see her half-brother here and when she asked Alicent, she too seemed just as surprised as the rest.

As Aemond walked away from his opponent, about to sheath his sword, the supposedly defeated lord stood up, ready to attack from behind. Y/N barely had enough time to process what was happening and yell for Aemond but luckily for the princess, her prince was quite sharp.

He heard the sound of the heavy footsteps trudging through the muck. But even though he did manage to somewhat dodge the direct hit of the sword, he didn’t manage to avoid it completely. The sound of the metal of the sword screeching against Aemond's armoured hand was teeth gritting and Aemond flinched away, clutching his arm as pain surged up.

"That’s foul play" Y/N leaned in to mutter to her father "Aemond already won that-"

"Let us applaud the victor, Dalton Greyjoy!" Daemon announced as he clapped causing his daughter's jaw to drop with disbelief.

"Kepa, Aemond had already won that round!" Y/N stood up, her tone stern as she repeated herself. It was the final round of the duel and she did not wish to be promised to Dalton out of all people. She barely even knew him.

Jace and Luke were applauding and whistling rather joyously and Y/N was getting irritated by the minute.

"Perhaps the both of you should like to marry him, hm?" She snapped, catching the both of them by surprise at how harshly she spoke "one more sound and I will have you both thrown out of here"

"Y/N.." Rhaenyra tried to calm her down "I'm sure your father won’t do something that upsets you-"

"Lord Greyjoy, I give you my permission to court my daughter" Daemon smiled at the same time that Rhaenyra winced.

Aemond stood frozen with rage. It was clear that Daemon was only doing this out of pure spite.

"I do not wish to court him!" Y/N quickly snapped, rather loudly too because Dalton seemed to frown at this the same time as Aemond smirked.

"So much for being named victor" Aemond sneered aloud "by the looks of it, the princess would rather stay a spinster than court you"

This caused a few snickers to arise from the crowd and Dalton retaliated by attempting to throw a punch at Aemond, which he managed to dodge effortlessly before whacking him on his back that made him stumble and fall face first into the mud.

"Prince Daemon" Aemond chuckled mockingly "you would have your daughter court and then, perhaps, marry this man? He can barely defend himself, let alone protect the princess"

Alicent winced. She didn’t wish for Aemond to incite some more chaos like how he did at the dinner.

"At least I am a complete man" Dalton smirked up at him through gritted teeth and Aemond reacted by kicking some of that wet mud straight into his face.

"That is enough!" Rhaenyra stood up, tired of having to deal with these kinds of fights over and over "I think we are done for the day"

And with that the crowd dispersed, groaning with annoyance. They were only just enjoying this newfound entertainment. Aemond too sheathed his sword and stormed off toward the castle, where the other members of the royal family were headed. After such a dismal day, he needed a nice warm bath to wash off the stench of mud, sweat and disappointment.

Alicent excused herself to go after her son and to inquire him about what made him show up in the first place; her handmaidens following after her.

"I thought you said you were on my side" Y/N snapped at her father once they were inside the walls of the castle, occasionally shifting glances between him and her half-brothers "Instead you lot seem to be having a joyous time working together to make my life a misery"

"You'd be doing that to yourself if you take that cunt as your husband" Jace added, Luke snickering at his comment.

"You both ought to learn how to speak to me" the princess coldly warned, not bothering to look at them "I am your future queen"

"Only because my brother's crown was handed to you" Luke threw back at her with the same amount of venom "you are not the direct descendant of King Viserys' heir: our mother"

"You are in no position to question my claim to the throne" Y/N chuckled darkly "I fought for your claim despite knowing the truth about you"

"Y/N that is enough" Rhaenyra interrupted sternly. She knew where her step-daughter was going with this conversation and she did not want their family getting divided over this.

"Are you suggesting we are same thing Aemond accused us of being?" Jace asked as his jaw clenched "bastards?"

"Why would I have reason to question that, I wonder?" Y/N batted her eye lashes and that only seemed to infuriate Jace.

"You are just as bad as them!" Jace shouted.

"Them? Us?" Y/N shot back "it was you who created this division between everyone by wasting away your childhood, bullying a poor boy simply for never having a dragon"

"You still defend him-"

"Because you have never given me a reason to defend you!" she took a step forward and Rhaena held her by the hand "I vouched for Luke, like I promised. And all you've done is make my closest friend's life, and now mine too, an absolute mess"

"Simply because we wish for you to wed someone else?" Luke asked.

"It is not your choice to make! Y/N raised her voice again. Gods, these boys would drive her to insanity "you both turned against me the minute you were made aware of me being named heir to the iron throne. Are you that jealous?"

"Jealous?" Jace scoffed "I am my mother's first born son. That crown should be mine"

"I am the blood of a dragon, that crown is just as much mine as it is anyone’s whose name is Targaryen" Y/N snapped "I have had it with you. If you are still bitter about it, so fucking be it"

And with that she stormed off, leaving everyone looking at each other in silence.

"I should go check on her" Rhaenyra followed, Daemon walking after her.

"You shouldn’t be so harsh on her" Rhaena broke the silence "it was not her choice to make"

"Exactly," Baela piped up, turning to look at Jace "our sister always supported Rhaenyra's decision to name you heir. If your mother changed her mind, you should know that Y/N is not the one you need to blame for it"

"If we keep fighting amongst ourselves, we are going to end up just like the greens and the blacks" Rhaena reminded "we are the only ones who might be able to reunite our house"

"And as much as I hate the idea of it, Y/N's marriage to Aemond will help" Baela added.

"Aemond is not any saint" Luke scoffed "he only likes your sister because she's been his friend all these years. His hatred for us will never wither away, even if they marry"

"At the very least, it will form a sort of truce" Baela tried to sound optimistic "as much as we love you boys you need to keep in mine Y/N is our sister and whether you like it or not, we do feel rather joyous of her being in line for the throne"

Jace and Luke exchanged glances. They both knew the twins had some truth in what they spoke. Not wanting to prolong the argument, the boys just nodded.

Y/N went off to find Aemond.

After a few minutes of searching and asking around, she found him in a hallway that was close to the bathing rooms. He was busy talking to some girl, by the looks of it she was perhaps a servant of Alicent. Aemond was as serious as ever, but he probably stated something funny since Y/N heard the girl laugh heartily as she placed her hand on Aemond's arm. When the prince took notice of Y/N he excused himself from the conversation and walked toward the princess.

The princess waited for him to approach her, offering a polite smile to the servant girl who took her leave and walked away to give them some privacy. Y/N had noticed that Aemond had put his eye patch back on.

"I hope I did not intrude" Y/N sweetly told him, referring to the conversation he was having with one of the servants.

"Oh, do not fret" he assured, his frame rigid as always "Alys was only informing me that a clean set of clothes was placed-"

"Alys? What is she doing here?" Y/N asked curiously.

"She's serving as one of my mother's handmaidens. You know of her?" Aemond cocked his head slightly.

"Aegon mentioned her" the girl told him with a shrug "your childhood dancing partner"

"Ah yes" Aemond grinned, not saying anything more.

Y/N was never the jealous type, nor did she feel threatened by anyone; she was confident in that sense. But for some reason the thought of Aemond agreeing to dance with somebody that wasn’t her, his childhood best friend, seemed to irk her just a touch. And she did not seem to like how freely that girl touched Aemond.

Not that she cared.

"I was just headed for a much-needed bath" he pointed behind him at one of the doors "care to join me?"

Y/N gave him a cheeky grin before looking around. No servants. She then held his hand and guided him into the room in which he'd told her there was a bath drawn for him.

Y/N was far too comfortable with stripping bare in the presence of Aemond. He, on the other hand, was still taken aback by her boldness.

She was always vivacious, Aemond thought, but was she always this beautiful? Did her-

Stop.

Aemond tore his gaze away from her when he caught himself staring at her for far longer than necessary. Once Y/N was done taking off her jewellery, she went to help Aemond out of his armour.

Aemond casually stole glances at her. Her hair tumbled past her shoulders to her waist in elegant curls of brown and silver. Her skin felt soft each time his fingers accidentally brushed against her.

Was she always this beautiful?

Once he too was rid of every last bit of garment he had on, she pulled him toward the large pit-like tub, much similar to the one back at King's landing. Once they reached the edge that then dipped into the ground, in which the water was filled, Y/N shifted to the side and pushed Aemond in.

The prince was caught off guard and rose to the surface quickly, pushing his wet hair back and sternly eyeing Y/N who had broken into fits of giggles. She then slowly climbed in using the stairs which were a little further to the right but Aemond wasn’t going to let that happen.

He reached up and grabbed her by the hand, pulling her in with such force that she fell straight in.

"Hey!" she laughed when she rose to the surface, wiping the water out of her eyes. She then splashed water straight at Aemond who stepped back with a chuckle, as if he was expecting it. He too splashed water right into her face that had her taking a few steps back, spitting the water back out.

"Idiot" she shook her head with amusement, rubbing her eyes again. Aemond only grinned as he took a step closer to brush her hair out of her face, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of her face.

Y/N smiled up at him, allowing him to fix her hair before she reached up to take off his eye patch, which she only just remembered that he still had on, but he flinched away from her before she could touch his face.

Y/N's smile fell in an instant.

"I wasn’t going to hurt you" she told him, thinking maybe that was his reflex.

"I know you wont. That isn’t why I.. " he calmly told her, suddenly feeling bad for being the reason behind her smile dropping "I'm just.. Earlier I was told.."

He was fumbling over his words, again, a rare occurrence.

Y/N cautiously came closer before her eyes landed on the nasty bruise on his left arm. His skin was painted with painful shades of greens, blues and purples.

"Gods, I am so sorry" she covered her mouth to hide the gasp that escaped her lips "I shouldn’t have pushed you in-"

"Oh no no," Aemond almost smiled at her genuine concern and how she thought she was the one who'd accidentally hurt him "this happened earlier, at the tourney"

Y/N sighed with relief before she gingerly reached out and traced around the bruise with the tip of her finger.

"It must hurt you terribly" she tenderly spoke, leaning in to kiss his skin.

"I've endured worse..."

The faintest gasp escaped Aemond's lips when he felt her lips trail along his arm, gently peppering his bruise with kisses.

"Kepa always used to kiss my injuries to heal them faster"

Aemond remembered when she had kissed his bruised knuckles the morning she was leaving him for Dragonstone.

Y/N trailed her kisses up his arm, his shoulder, along his neck, and his jaw until she reached his scar that peaked out from beneath that eye patch.

"You are perfect Aemond" she whispered, her lips brushing against his cheek "I wouldn’t change a thing about you"

Aemond's breath hitched in his throat as he felt her arms pressed against his stomach, how her nipples brushed against his chest, her face only inches away from his.

Was she always this beautiful?

"May I?" she asked, almost in a whisper and Aemond knew exactly what she meant. He gave her a nod of consent and the girl reached up to gently take off the eye patch.

She smiled before she leaned in yet again to kiss his cheek, along his scar, right under his waterline. around the edge of the sapphire near his temple, going on her toes to kiss all the way till his forehead where his scar stopped.

"You are perfect, Aemond" she cupped his face and Aemond subconsciously pulled her closer by the waist.

"Y/N?" he called out her name softly "you are really beautiful"

***

Daemon sceptically eyed the handmaiden as he leaned forward in his chair.

"You saw them yourself you say?"

"Yes, my prince" she looked down at the floor "they both slipped into the same room to bathe. My! what scandalous thing"

"I know my daughter to be more responsible than that" Daemon heaved a sigh, still maintaining his pointed gaze "and even if she did engage in anything you claim to have seen, I do not care"

"Oh but I'm sure the other nobles might" she masked the venom in her voice by giving an innocent smile "who would wed her then?"

"If you are fool enough to spread any gossip, the one you claim she sneaked off to the bath with will wed her" Daemon said with a shrug "and I shall personally have you hang-"

"From what I've been told, the queen had declined princess Rhaenyra's previous proposal to wed her son and the queen's daughter" the girl looked away, not caring that she had interrupted him "what makes you say she will agree to this match?"

"May I ask what drives you to find reason to ruin my daughter?"

"I'm afraid Aemond is doing the job fine himself by asking her to bathe with him" she chuckled

"You are not answering my question"

"Oh no, I do not wish to ruin her" she batted her lashes "I simply want the same thing you want: to keep Aemond away from her"

Daemon leaned back in his chair, heaving a sigh.

"So for your own personal gain"

"Well, we're both getting what we want"

"And how, may I ask," Daemon eyed her curiously "will you manage to seduce a prince like himself?"

"I have my ways" she smirked.

"All right, you may leave Alys"

Taglist: @ladybug0095 @sahvlren @bunny24sstuff @dellalyra @ellabellabus07 @champomiel @fan-goddess @lilostif16

[annwrites]

⸻ flesh & bone. part three.

· pairing: dalton greyjoy x siren!reader · type: part of a series · summary: you explore your new human body, while dalton attempts to explore you. it does not end well for either party. · word count: 3,276

You pace the room while he is gone, exercising your new limbs. You sit at one point, stretching them out in front of you, studying.

The five small appendages at the end of the things you walk on fascinate you as you wiggle and press them together, then pull them apart again. You wonder why there is no webbing between them. Nor is there now any between your fingers.

You look over your new body, finding a gash now between your legs with a healthy bit of dark hair on the mound above it. You use your fingers to explore, finding a sensitive nub there to be of much interest.

You tuck that away for further investigation later.

You turn your torso, trying to peer behind you, and when you grip your backside, you find two round bits of fat. You suppose they are meant to make sitting easier, then.

And when you spread them apart...you do not like the small hole between them. It feels wrinkly and strange, and you cannot understand why an orifice would be there of all places.

You know you once had had all of these things—used them daily—and knew what their purposes had been, but you could no longer bring such explanations to mind.

You eventually sit, peering out the window at the dark, stormy sea beneath the castle, your skin eventually chilling at the feel of cool winds drifting in.

This place is quite drafty.

Huffing in irritation, you pad across the room, yanking a blanket from the bed and wrapping it around yourself. You then grab the chair the strange man had previously occupied, dragging it across the floor and seating yourself before the fire.

You look around your new chambers, taking the few objects you have been supplied in.

Some you notice—seem to remember the names of—others not quite so.

There is a bed with blankets and pillows. A table across the way, which you'd previously been pinned to with that horrid man atop you. The chair in which you sit. A large, circular piece of furniture that seems empty not far from the table, shoved into a corner.

And then there is a small round metal piece of décor on the floor. You had looked it over, peered inside even, but there was nothing more to it. You'd sat it back down then, quickly disinterested.

Before long, you begin to feel an irritation building in your lower abdomen. Like something gradually filling.

Shifting your legs and crossing them does little to alleviate the sensation.

You press down with gentle fingers against your stomach, unsure how to make it stop. Is this...normal? Do all humans feel like this? Will it eventually subside on its own?

Before long, it becomes too much to bear and you get an idea, believing you have discovered the purpose of that hot, wet thing between your legs.

You stand, relaxing your body and then you finally feel relief as warm liquid trickles down your thighs, your legs, and then onto the floor, pooling around your feet.

You do not much care for the smell of it, but, at the very least, you now feel better.

You hope it will not be an often occurrence. That would most certainly begin to grate on your nerves before long.

You then cock your head to the side, curious. You reach down, dabbing a couple fingertips into the liquid, lifting them to your lips.

As soon as it touches your tongue, your face screws in disgust.

Not to be drank, as it turns out.

For the half-dozenth time, you walk back over to the door, trying the handle again, to no avail.

So, you seat yourself once again—knife hidden beneath your naked thigh—and wait.

When Dalton returns to your room, it is to the stench of urine.

He slams the door shut, causing you to jump. You stand, keeping the blanket wrapped round you as you face him.

He glances to the chamberpot—stepping toward it—and when he peers inside, he sees it is empty. And then he sees a glistening pool of liquid before the hearth.

He rolls his eyes upwards, toward the ceiling, crossing his arms before his muscled chest as he looks at you once more. "Must I train you like a pet, then?"

You snarl at his condescending tone, which only serves to make him bark with laughter.

He takes a step toward you, and you quickly relax your features, feigning curiosity.

He holds out his right hand, beckoning with his fingers. "C'mon, then. Give it back."

You cock your head to the side and he smirks.

He leans toward you. "I know you have it."

You come a few feet toward him, your eyes remaining focused on his own.

You leave a healthy gap of space between the two of you when you stop.

He raises a brow. "I imagine it is beneath your makeshift cloak. Perhaps I should explore, to find out for myself."

"I'm hungry," you state, eyeing his throat.

He snorts. "Give me what I wish, then, and I shall reward you for it, my little shark."

Your gaze darkens. Not his. Vile creature of a man.

After a terse bit of silence, he shrugs. "Mayhaps a bit more time alone will serve to make you more obedient."

He hopes to the Drowned God not. You are so unlike any wench he has ever encountered before. And he has had a great many. Not even a single one of his over two-score of salt wives behave as you do. Wildly and ferally.

He heads toward the exit, desperately hoping you cave to him, but just as his callused hand begins to turn the handle, something goes whizzing through the air, landing directly next to his head, burying itself in the door he currently has hold of.

He turns abruptly back to you, ready to punish you for that. Had your aim been just a few more inches to the right, the blade would be buried, instead, in the back of his skull.

But when he finds you standing bare before him once more—your blanket lying upon the floor—his lust is set alight as he licks his lips.

He jerks the knife from the wood, returning it to its sheath, which hangs from his side, and then stomps toward you with a wicked smile. "Oh, the fun we will have, my little—"

You make a run for it then. You dash past him, toward the door, and wrench it open. You quickly glance right, then left, opting for left as you take off sprinting.

You cannot do it. What you and your sisters discussed, so as to lure he and his crew back to their infested waters. Previously your waters...

You cannot let him touch you. Not like that. There must be another way.

Once you are free of his gaze and his hands, you will design a new plan to lure him to his doom. He is clearly a man of vice, and you are sure he has many.

Women can only be one of them, but not the only. Of this you are certain.

"You cannot escape me, my little fish!" His voice booms from behind you, echoing off of stone.

You growl at yet another pathetic name for you.

You make another turn, heading right, and then hanging another left.

Eventually, you open a door, which leads into a very small room that is stacked with shelves, supplies upon them. Candles and buckets and rope and parchment and the like. You blink at it, considering. And then you shut yourself inside, gently closing the door behind you, shrouding yourself in darkness as your heart pounds in your ears.

You fear he will hear it, luring him to you. If only you still had that voice which allowed you to sing so temptingly. A voice which carried across even stormy waters, bringing men to you—to your sisters—to feast upon.

Bending him to your will would be all-too easy then. He would be at your utter mercy, upon his knees.

Having only a body to do it with...it seems far too much work this way.

Heavy footsteps approach, and you stare wide-eyed at the crack at the bottom of the door, the shadow of him now standing before you.

He stills for a moment, and you stand stark-still, terrified of knocking something over and alerting him to your presence. But not of him. No, you fear no man. Not anymore.

You have killed plenty of their kind and in the end, they are all the same. Sacks of meat and blood and bone for you to dine upon, wrenching their skin from them with your teeth.

He finally leaves then and you sigh, relieved.

You give it another moment longer, calculating how long it will take him to turn down yet another hall, but just as your hand comes to hover over the handle, the door suddenly opens, him standing on the other side with a nefarious smile.

"There you are, my little shark."

You back up against the shelves behind you as you stare up at him, mind reeling with what to do.

Just then, you grab a bucket, lifting it, but he rips it from your hand as he wraps his arms around your waist, hauling you out of your hiding space.

You thrash wildly in his grip, screaming and biting at the air, but he does not release you.

Finally, he throws you over his shoulder with a resounding smack against your bottom as he heads back in the direction of your confinement.

You pummel small fists against his back, to which he chuckles.

"You are no match for me, little shark. But, oh, how you try to be. I much enjoy it," he says, smacking again and you yelp, growling.

You yank the braided hair at the back of his head then, which causes him to stumble back a step, until he rights himself again, smacking you harder.

"Continue and you shall earn my ire. I am not a man to be trifled with."

Finally, once he has returned you to your room, he kicks the door closed behind him before throwing you down onto the mattress.

He gets on top of you, his legs holding your own in place, his hands pinning your arms above your head as he stares down at you, smiling.

"At least you have bothered to give me a challenge. I am so fascinated by you. Tell me, were you born a fish, or did that come later? And if so: how?"

You bare your teeth and he only laughs. "Murderous little thing. You are more fierce than even that of many reavers of the Iron Islands. You do not know fear, do you?"

You squirm against his tight hold. "Get off!"

His eyes trail along your naked body. "I much intend to," he says, eyes meeting your own once more as his gaze darkens.

He lowers his waist to your own, bucking against you. "Do you feel that? You've woken the kraken. Would you like to meet him? For he is so eager to meet—"

You spit in his face.

He shakes his head, wiping his cheek against his upper-arm as he continues to hold firm to you. He slams your wrists back down against the mattress, sniggering. "Insolent. I much enjoy it, but am quickly tiring of it this evening when so many other more important matters are afoot."

Such as war. He is so glad for it, too. Bloodshed is so near now.

He looks to the nearby table, then back to you with a raised brow.

"You wish to eat?"

You glance to his throat, then back into his eyes.

"I am afraid I am not an option. Though..." He glances to where his leather-clad cock strains against his breeches, buried close to your heat, then back into your eyes. "If you wish to have parts of me in that lovely mouth—"

"Whatever you stick in it you're not getting back," you say, cutting him short.

He laughs, knowing what you say is true. He would be a fool to trust you by any measure yet. He knows taking you to bed will take time. Much of it.

He will not rape you.

No. When the two of you join as one in that most carnal way, it will be because you can no longer contain your desire for him; can no longer deny him. You will come round to it, as they all do.

He bucks his hips against you and he feels your legs flex beneath his own as you try to fight back, to no avail.

"I will feed you, and then you will bathe. I am being quite generous when all you have given me thus far is grief. I could've tossed you back into the sea to drown instead of bringing you to my home, no?"

"I would prefer it," you say, turning your head toward the window.

His brows furrow. "Why are you here, then?"

"You brought me here, or are you so daft that you do not remember?"

He snorts at the insult.

"I think you are my best catch yet. I only wonder how you might taste." With that, he leans down, suckling against one of your breasts, his warm tongue trailing along your scales and your back arches at the feeling, a pleasing moan escaping your lips.

His head lifts then, staring down at you with an unreadable expression. "So they are sensitive? This is very good to know."

He leans down again, swiping his tongue along blue and green and pink shimmering flakes and your eyes roll back in your head, hands squeezing into fists, as your toes curl.

He returns to the other side and he presses his straining cock directly against your entrance and is shocked when you begin to grind against it for relief.

You sigh. "What...what is this?"

His lips move higher, teeth tugging gently against a pebbled nipple before answering. "What does it feel like, little fish?"

You swipe your core against him again, shuddering. "I don't...."

You do it again, brows furrowing, unable to make sense of it.

"Ah, but I do," he says before licking once more.

You writhe beneath him, and he loosens his legs, freeing your own, curious what you might next do.

You quickly wrap them around his torso, bucking wildly against him, moaning and sighing and swallowing thickly as you begin to salivate.

"That's it. Take what you need," he encourages before getting back to work, wanting to watch as you crash, like waves against rocky shores.

It's when he moves his lips to your neck that your hazy mind finally begins to focus.

Off.

You want him off of you. Whatever this is...it isn't right.

You are not meant to want. Not here. Not with him.

Just then, you slip a thigh between his legs and land a solid blow between them.

He doubles over, gasping, gagging, and you slide off the bed, standing.

Before you can even make it a handful of feet, he spins you back around, slapping you with the back of his hand. So hard it sends you falling, your skull smacking against the solid floor.

He gets back on top of you, hands wrapping around your throat, squeezing.

You dig your nails into the back of his hands as you stare up at his enraged expression, the vein in the middle of his forehead now quite prominent.

"Fucking cunt," he spits at you as your vision begins to grow dark, hands slackening and falling away from his own.

And then he finally releases you.

You turn onto your side, gasping for breath, coughing and sputtering.

He stands, stomping toward the door and he slams it closed without another word.

[poppyreader]

I guess im writing the Jace TwinXDalton GreyjoyXCregan Stark thought that i posted. Maybe lets add some Aemond villan in there too

[just-some-random-blogger]

house of the dragon masterlist

🍓 = fluff themes

❄️ = angst themes

🚧 = smut themes

🤸‍♀️ = slice of life / bish idek what theme this is

🚀 = crack fic themes

🎩 = dark and/or violent themes

🏩 = genre fic, i.e. mystery, horror, fantasy, etc

🍳 = slow burn

🦕 = personal favorite

back to main masterlist

daemon masterlist | aemond masterlist

story centric masterlists

● the blonde boys club *🍓🤸‍♀️🎩🏩🦕

● stark!reader universe masterlist *🍓❄️🚧🚀🍳🎩🦕

● accidental targ masterlist *🍓🚀🏩

● for your eyes only masterlist *🍓🚧🎩🏩

● oldtown masterlist *🍓❄️🚧🏩🍳🦕

● snow angel masterlist *❄️🦕

● pinball masterlist *🍓

*fics contain these themes but masterlists are unrated

Some fics here are available in the other masterlists

Want You Dead | ❄️❄️🚧🚧🚧🎩🎩🎩🎩🍳🍳🍳🍳🍳🦕 Daemon Targaryen x Pirate!Reader [+ eventual Aemond Targaryen x Reader] 1 2 3 

I’ll Play The Fool Instead | ❄️🎩🎩🍳 Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader

Since You Asked So Nicely | 🍓❄️❄️🎩 Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Harwin Strong x Reader

Waiting For A Lifetime | 🍓🍓❄️❄️🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🎩🏩🏩🍳🍳🍳🍳🦕Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Aegon Targaryen x Reader + Aemond Targaryen x Reader (Modern AU) 1 2 3 4 5 ?

Scale Soother | 🍓🍓🎩🏩🍳🦕 Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Cregan Stark x Reader

Truly, Madly, Deeply | 🍓🍓❄️❄️🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧🚧 Daemon, Viserys, Otto (& Aemma) x Targaryen!Reader

Maniac | 🍓🚧🤸‍♀️🚀🏩 Ex!Aemond Targaryen x Reader + Rebound!Daemon Targaryen x Reader

The Salt In My Blood | ❄️❄️❄️🚧🚧🎩🎩🎩🍳🦕 Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy

My Lord | 🚧🚧 Otto Hightower x Reader

Observant | 🍓🚧🚧 Otto Hightower x Reader

Aegon Targaryen

Losing Dogs | ❄️❄️❄️🚧🚧🎩🎩🍳🦕 Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Tear In My Heart | ❄️❄️❄️🎩🏩 Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader x Aegon Targaryen

Street Rat | ❄️🎩🎩🍳 Aegon Targaryen x Reader

Cregan Stark

Puppy Love | 🍓🍓 Daemon Targaryen x Reader + Cregan Stark x Reader

Heat | 🍓🤸‍♀️Cregan Stark x Martell!Reader

Yeti | 🍓🚧🚧🚧 Cregan Stark x Martell!Reader

Push & Pull | 🤸‍♀️ Jacaerys Velaryon x Lannister!Reader x Cregan Stark

Pelts | 🍓🍓❄️ Cregan Stark x Reader

Poison Berries | 🍓🤸‍♀️ Cregan Stark x Reader

Gwayne Hightower

Hatred & Love | 🍓 Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen!Reader

Stop The Feeling | ❄️ Gwayne Hightower x Cargyll!Reader

Tin Solider | 🍓🚧🚧 Gwayne Hightower x Reader

Seeing Red | 🍓 Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader

Seeing Green | 🍓🤸‍♀️ Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader x Harwin Strong

Flesh & Teeth | 🍓🚧 Gwayne Hightower x Reader

Break Bones? | 🍓🤸‍♀️ Gwayne Hightower x Lannister!Reader x Harwin Strong

Actor Fic

I Can’t Help It | 🍓🍓🚀🚀🚀🦕 Matt Smith x Actress!Reader

I’m Into It | 🍓🚀🚀 Matt Smith x Actress!Reader

Dark Kiss | 🍓🚀🚀 Matt Smith x Reader

A Total Babe | 🍓🍓🚀🚀 Tom Glynn-Carney x Actress!Reader

Choke ‘Em | 🍓🚀 Ewan Mitchell x Actress!Reader

Sloshed | 🍓🤸‍♀️🚀🚀🚀 HotD Cast & Reader

Deleted Scene | 🍓🍓🍓🚀 Tom Glynn-Carney x Actress!Reader

Acting Direction | 🍓🍓🤸‍♀️ Tom Glynn-Carney x Reader

Barbie | 🍓🤸‍♀️ Ewan Mitchell x Reader

Secret Hand Holding | 🍓🤸‍♀️🚀🚀 Ewan Mitchell x Reader

Easy To Be |  🍓🍓🤸‍♀️🚀 Ewan Mitchell x Actress!Reader

Security | 🍓🤸‍♀️🚀 Matt Smith x Reader

[greenandsorrow]

Not a request, but can you make a list of the fandoms and characters you write for? Not to be rude! <333

Disclaimer -> There are fandoms I've already written stuff for, or I will in the future, but they're not in the following list because I don't take requests for them (star wars, wizarding world, the matrix, prometheus, DC, marvel, etc.)

x reader for the most part unless I say otherwise

FANDOMS & CHARACTERS I WRITE FOR 🍂☕

FNAF:

William Afton (either from the game or the book trilogy, not movie Willy still love him tho)

Springtrap

The Puppet

Comfortingly scary stuff with the animatronics of the first six games.

OMORI:

I'M NOT AGING ANYONE UP FOR SMUT/ I WON'T PUT ANYONE IN SEXUAL SITUATIONS (aging up for character development is acceptable ig)

Omori (can be shipped with Aubrey)

Sunny (can be shipped with Aubrey/Basil)

Stranger

Basil

The group x reader

The reader just experiencing or being part of Headspace, Black Space, White Space and the characters there.

RYAN GOSLING:

Ken

Officer K

Sierra Six/ Court Gentry

maybe Colt Seavers

PEDRO PASCAL:

Joel Miller

Din Djarin

HAZBIN HOTEL:

Alastor (human, giant demon, cursed cat, something from your imagination)

Lucifer Morningstar

Angel Dust

Vox

maybe Sir Pentious (can be shipped with Cherri)

The Hazbins x reader

LOTR/ THE HOBBIT:

Bilbo Baggins

Thorin Oakenshield

Fili Durin

Kili Durin

Thranduil

Gandalf x reader (platonic!!)

Thorin & company x reader

The fellowship x reader

Sauron in any form

The Witch King of Angmar (🤭)

GAME OF THRONES:

Petyr Baelish

Varys (don't ask me why)

Jorah Mormont

Sandor Clegane

Arya Stark

Brienne of Tarth

maybe Eddard Stark

maybe Tormund Giantsbane

maybe Theon Greyjoy

HOUSE OF THE DRAGON:

Rhaenyra Targaryen

Daemon Targaryen

Aemond Targaryen

Aegon Targaryen

maybe Larys Strong (I'm sorry)

Scenarios that include multiple characters

?Dragon bonding¿

SHERLOCK BBC:

Sherlock Holmes (platonic mostly)

John Watson

maybe James Moriarty

maybe Molly Hooper

DEAD POETS SOCIETY:

Neil Perry

Todd Anderson

Charlie Dalton

The poets x reader

Mr. Keating (platonic!!!)

THE SECRET HISTORY:

Anything.

Absolutely anything and anyone.

I mean it.

(no incest, no orgies)

STRANGER THINGS:

Billy Hargrove

Eddie Munson

Jim Hopper (don't ask why)

Vecna/ Henry Creel

IT:

Pennywise

Not sure about any other ships but shoot your shot ig.

Reader just living in Derry???

SWEET HOME:

Pyeon Sang-Wook

THE DA VINCI CODE:

Silas

masterlist of all work

requesting rules/ info

*my paypal link can be found on my masterlist & fics