#essos fic

[fandomsbyladymelodrama]

Merry Christmas, friends! (and to be clear this is not a Christmas fic oops XD but it is a new collab from the talented @salzrand and myself so Merry Christmas just the same :))

[witchthewriter]

𝐁𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐆𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 & 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

⤷ female, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

a/n: oh god this man is doing things to me...

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

ISFJ or ISTJ

Ravenclaw

Lawful Neutral to Neutral Good

Sagittarius Sun, Cancer Moon, Scorpio Rising

𝑺𝑭𝑾🌿

・You're the rider of Silverwing, the glorious, graceful and maternal dragon who watches over you wherever you go.

・When you were young, it was very difficult for your mother because Silverwing would sweep you away and take you to her nest. Making you one of her own.

・You knew about the Hightowers, and how close Alicent & Rhaenyra were. You were very jealous, but weren't the kind of person to bump shoulders just to be included.

・So your best friend was a dragon. And you wouldn't have it any other way.

・Your connection with her is incredibly strong. Almost telepathic at times. She can feel what you feel - like two one soul in two bodies.

・And when you become of marriagable age - she did not like any of the suitors. So she was there, right by your side, huffing and puffing (putting your white cloaks on edge...)

・Just like Rhaenys the Conquorer, you flew further and further with your mount.

・You weren't the sister of Rhaenyra, but of Rhaenys. Your parents were Aemon Targaryen and Jocelyn Baratheon. And they had you when they were very, very old. Your birth was a miracle.

・And your sister, who was many years older, became a mother to you. As your two parents died.

・Your marriage was put forth by Viserys, well, Otto mainly. He knew his daughter would become queen and yet he was still full of ambition.

・Rhaenys saw straight through this. And your sister did everything she could to stop the marriage.

・But Viserys would not be persuaded...

・When you first met Gwayne, your initial opinion was that he was an ass. A pompus, arrogant, rude, ass.

・He had kissed your hand within the first two minutes and let his eyes linger on your own for far too long.

'I hate him already.' You thought and Silverwing snarled in agreement.

・But the dragon did not deter the Hightower man. He simply smirked and bowed his head.

・As time went by, your cemented walls were slowly knocked down one by one by Gwayne.

・But it wasn't until you offered to take him flying that you truly bonded.

・Clinging as tight as he could to you, Silverwing did every trick in the book to make him faint; straight diving and pulling up at the last second, twirling over herself over and over etc.)

・The whole time you were laughing, not just at his reaction but laughing with pure joy. Your fiance feeling what you feel.

・After that Gwayne looked at you with a newly found gratitue. You were true friends.

・But when Rhaenys started to speak to you about what marriage was really like - you didn't want to hear it.

"...my love, he may stray and sometimes you cannot stop it."

The words had hit you like a boulder to the heart. No, you could not endure such a betrayal.

"Sister. If he dares, then Silverwing will have the most royal feast she has ever had."

・But you need not ever worry about Gwayne's attention turning to another. You are all he needs. All he wants.

・He shows it to you through the way he speaks; the charming, soft voice that makes your knees tremble. The ever so gentle brush of his hand against yours.

・It drives you insane.

・And you never, not once in a nillion years, thought you would say this.

・"Gwayne, please. Let's just marry. Now. It needs to be now or I'll explode."

𝑹𝒆𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆𝒔

Forced Proximity

"I'd do anything for you." (Gwayne) x "As you should." (You)

Survives because of pure luck (You) x Is the pure luck (Gwayne)

𝑷𝒍𝒐𝒕 𝑻𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒆

Enemies to Lovers

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒆 𝑺𝒐𝒏𝒈

Let It Happen by The Midnite String Quartet

𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 🔞 No one under the age of 18 past this point, makes me feel weird if you read it.

・Your first kiss was ... passionate. The hesitation of your lips before one another caused such heat you could not comprehend.

・You consummated your wedding night. Over and over and over again. Until Gwayne said, "my heart I cannot handle another round. I do not think I can move."

"Oh husband," you said while rolling onto your side. "You are going to have to get used to this. There's fire in my blood after all..."

・His eyebrows rose and his handsome face was covered in amusement.

"Well, wife. I guess I'll have to train harder," and with that he gripped your waist and flung on top of you.

・It is well known that the two of you cannot keep your hands off each other. You always do it when no one is around - but somehow someone always sees.

・But it's very difficult when he whispers in your ear all the things he thinks about. The things he wants you to do to him. Where he wants you to touch him.

・Is this not what married life is about? Being so incredibly obsessed with the other that your whole body hurts whenever they aren't near?

[christinapotter09]

Summary:

They’re in search of answers, terrible truths and inconceivable lies.

‘I’m not a Stark,’ Daemon had whispered, speaking the truth. Sansa had shaken her head, desperate for him to find some solace.

‘You are to me,’ words spoken again and again, through time.

Sansa had whispered them in Aegon’s ear as they moved against each other, the Meereenese night standing witness to their union, and the jeopardy of the kingdoms as her womb had already taken root.

The terrible truth, a terrible faith hanging above them, pivoting their very lives, killing them again and again in a game where there is only victory or death.

[lhazar]

No Rain Without Thunder - Hotd OC Insert

There is a Lhazareen saying, ‘No rain without thunder, no child without pangs.’  One week before Queen Aemma’s due date, a slave who speaks the bastard tongue of old Valyria is brought to King’s Landing with a prophecy and a wish. One that foretells the Queen's death in childbirth, and a wish to deliver her child safely. This is the story of a modern midwife in Westeros. 

Chapter 1 is live! If you're interested in reading an atypical Oc fic, featuring a midwife from Essos who's frankly already done with noble drama before she even arrives in the west, this fic may be for you. Expect a super long slowburn, worldbuilding from a smallfolk POV, and a heavy focus on Rhaenyra, Alicent, and oc friendship themes as she works as both women's trusted Midwife over the years. This will turn very AU - Canon Divergent as the story progresses 👍

[mzminola]

That said I think the most fun fusion fic would be to give Bruce the Mance Rayder role. Ex Night's Watch still trying to save the Realms of Men the best way he knows how (by breaking all the rules).

Dick is an orphan Bruce picks up during one of his first self-appointed climbing-back-over-the-Wall-to-spy missions. Barbara is a kissed-by-fire Wildling greenseer. Jason is a Wildling orphan that tries to steal Bruce's Night Brother sword. Cass is a warg who's been feral since running from her dad.

At some point Jason gets it into his head that he needs to Prove He's A Man Now, climbs over the Wall without Bruce, and bridenaps Tim. Whether Tim is a girl or Jason just mistook Tim for one is dealer's choice.

They bicker the entire way back to main camp until Dick runs over to defuse whatever disaster this is, at which point Tim & Dick go "You!!!" because the Drakes were at the Flying Grayson Troupe's last performance before the bandits got them.

[chic-beyond-the-wall-oc-acct]

Another Abigail wedding look ❤️

This was a request from a friend who wanted an Abigail x Daenerys look. I tried to give it Essos vibes but idk if I was successful 😅 it was still really fun though and I love it❤️

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Ideas #32: Game of Thrones, but make it Horatio Alger

My favorite part of GoT is the worldbuilding - just the massive scale of peoples, backgrounds, and cultures that exist and are encountered by the various POV characters. There are two massive continents worth of places to explore... and most of the time characters stay in a relatively small part of it.

Which got me thinking: what if Jon Snow pulled something out of Horatio Alger or one of Heinlein's youth novels? Which is to say: what if Jon packed his things, went on a wild adventure across Essos, and returned with riches and dragons?

Aka: The Aemon the Adventurous Fic

Just imagine it:

The Greyjoy Rebellion lasts on for longer than in canon. The Iron Islanders are better prepared in all respects and the fighting drags on for almost three years.

Lady Stark doesn't set out to use her husband's prolonged absence to isolate her husband's bastard - consciously at least - but that's what ends up happening. She's wrapped up in her own young children and honestly doesn't think that a baseborn child needs or should have access to the same level of education or training his trueborn siblings do.

Forbidden from joining Robb's lessons, Jon spends a lot of time training with the rank-and-file soldiers and the rest of it in Winterfell's library. One of his earliest discovery's there is an account of the nine great voyages of Corlys Velaryon. This, combined with the ongoing war with the Iron Islands, convinces Jon of the might of sea power.

In 291, after two years of war and two years of being essentially ignored by the inhabitants of Winterfell, Jon decides to just leave. He's eight years old, but Corlys was six the first time he sailed the Narrow Sea, and he can surely find a position as a ship's boy in White Harbor.

And that's exactly what he does. It shouldn't be so easy for a child to cross half the North on his own, but Jon manages it. (He cuts and dyes his hair to look less obviously like a Stark, in case anyone is looking, and calls himself Aemon after the Dragonknight.) And since ship's captains are used to unwanted sons trying to make a life for themselves at sea, Jon finds a job on The Septon's Daughter two days after he arrives.

Despite the blasphemy, the captain of The Septon's Daughter, Jasper Stone, is a lowborn man of the Vale who is an honest, pious follower of The Seven. He treats his crew well, and trades up and down the Narrow Sea, taking longer voyages to Ibben or Volantis every couple of years to trade for exotics. Jon learns a lot under him and comes to see Captain Jasper as a father figure.

In 294 they sail to Ibben. Jon's exploring the port when a conflict with Jasper's trading rival in the port forces The Septon's Daughter to leave without him. Jon ends up wintering in Ibben, learning the local customs and fighting style, and gaining a lot of goods he can resell at high markup in Pentos. Luckily, Jasper and The Septon's Daughter come back for him the next spring after wintering in Ifeqevron, and Jon rejoins his ersatz family.

Jon is able to make a tidy profit off his Ibbenese goods. So does Jasper with the woods he brings back from Ifeqevron. Together they decide to use it to expand their trading fleet. Just 12, Jon is made XO of one of these, Northern Lights.

In 297 they decide to sail south. Skipping past Slaver's Bay, they visit Qarth, Asabahd, Yin, Leng Yi, Jinqi, Asshai, Turrani, Zabhad, and Vahar before returning the Free Cities three years later. Several ships worth of exotic goods make them all very rich - especially Jon, who is by now captain of Northern Lights and second in command of the trading fleet.

But Jon, 17, has been plagued by Dragon Dreams since he first sailed past Valyria. After their return to Volantis, Jon takes the smallest ship in their fleet, Seasmoke, to Valyria on his own.

This should be a disaster, but somehow Jon manages to reach the ruined city. He enters a temple whose tunnels lead him straight into the heart of the volcano the city was built in the shadow of... and there Jon finds dragon eggs. Acting on instinct, he takes three - one pitch black, one pure white, and one ocean blue - marks them with his own blood, and builds a fire for them to rest in. He intends to do the same with a fourth - silver speckled gold - but ends up falling asleep with it before sticking it in the fire.

When he wakes up, the gold egg hatches into a full-grown woman, whom is eventually called Alyssa Belaerys.

What follows is an info dump (there are four kinds of magic in the world, fire and ice magic are opposed; Valyrian seers saw the coming of the Long Night and thought to prevent it by strengthening fire magic, but overdid it and destroyed their civilization instead. Without dragons, balance is lost. To restore balance, dragons must return. Dragonlords are descended from dragons who took human form like Alyssa, &c).

In the midst of all of this, the three other eggs hatch into actual dragons - called the Valyrian for Darkness, Snow, and Sea respectively.

Jon, Alyssa, and the dragons return to Volantis. Jasper is thrilled to see his adoptive son again, but less thrilled with his seemingly nonsensical plan to strengthen fire magic by strengthening dragons by becoming ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. Or: reconquer Westeros, save the world.

And so... Jon conquers Westeros.

Westeros is in shambles - long story short, Robert declared Cersei's children bastards and has been fighting a long war against the Lannisters over his choice to summarily execute his wife, her brother, and their children; Stannis died in the Greyjoy rebellion, so there's no strong admiral to counter the Ironborns' renewed raiding; the Vale has is own succession problems; &c - and Jon has lots of money, a loyal fleet, dragons, and a fierce Dragonborn bride in Alyssa.

They start with the Stepstones, take the Stormlands easily since most of their fighters are in the west with the Baratheons, and just... conquer one kingdom after another.

The truth - that Aemon Snow (as he's been going by all these years) is really Jon Snow, is really Rhaegar's second son - doesn't come out until it's time to replay Torren's submission of the North. It's a bit of a surprise, as Ned thought his nephew was dead after all these years, but ends well enough - though Jon is somewhat surprised to learn it took Lady Stark three months to notice he was missing.

Bonuses include: 1) Jon replaying the Field of Fire with the Lannisters and Baratheons; 2) lots of detail and expansion of the culture, history, and religion of every place Jon visits; 3) Captain Jasper really being the best adoptive father a boy could hope for, and 4) Jon going down in history as The Sea Dragon and Aemon the Adventurous and kicking off a new era of sea exploration for Westeros, including the discovery that sailing far enough west will bring you to the east.

...and that is far, far more than I thought I had. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

Other Jon Snow Headcanons: Aegon the Unyielding | Aemon the Adventurous | Baelor the Brave | Lady Arryn | Lady Baratheon | Lady Lannister | Lady Stark | Prince Consort | Prince of Summerhall | Queen Mother

More Terrible Fic Ideas

[witchqueenvisenya]

usually when a place or character is underdeveloped in canon, fanfic writers take it upon themselves to delve into it and expand it. but since the majority of the asoiaf fandom is racist and likes shallow, petty barb-throwing in place of actual politicking, we have thousands of fics about the vale, the stormlands, and other uber white places with characters like sansa/myrcella/or some other white oc throwing around one liners instead of fics exploring the massively underdeveloped but far more interesting and diverse essos and the characters that we have there. instead of fics about the intrigues of the meereenese court, or even the volantene political spaces, majority fic writers only write dany, or tyrion, or arya, or young griff after they land in westeros.

[lightningandfireinmybones]

How many kids does aemond want? 😭 bc the way he speaks about having them makes me believe he wants to match or surpass rhaenyra & daemon’s size, maybe even jaehaerys and alyssane 💀💀 but valaena is not letting that happen lmao

LMFAO if aemond had his way, she would be pregnant forever, as many kids as that happens to be, his goal as soon as he was given the go ahead post birth would be to get her pregnant again as quickly as possible the man has a B R E E D I N G kink™️ (also somewhat sadder him seeing it as a chance at an actual not fucked up family so of course he’s gonna want it big)

Valaena on the other hand,,, being pregnant SUCKS and childbirth is TERRIFYING if she lets him get to like 3/4 I think she’ll call it a day, bonus if there’s another set of twins in there👀

[anothersarcasticdolphin]

Chapters: 14/? Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen, Daemon Targaryen/Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys), Daemon Targaryen/Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys), Rhaenyra Targaryen/Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys), Joffrey Lonmouth/Laenor Velaryon, Corlys "The Sea Snake" Velaryon/Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon, Alicent Hightower/Viserys I Targaryen, Aemma Arryn/Viserys I Targaryen, Rhea Royce/Daemon Targaryen, Rhaenyra Targaryen & Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon, Rhaenyra Targaryen & Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys), Otto/his own ego, Ser Crispin/likely to get eaten by Caraxes Characters: Rhaenyra Targaryen, Syrax | Rhaenyra Targaryen's Dragon, Laena Velaryon (Daughter of Corlys), Vhagar | Visenya Targaryen's Dragon, Daemon Targaryen, Caraxes | Daemon Targaryen's Dragon, Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon, Meleys | Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon's Dragon, Corlys "The Sea Snake" Velaryon, Laenor Velaryon, Seasmoke | Addam Velaryon's Dragon, Alicent Hightower, Otto Hightower, Viserys I Targaryen, Aemma Arryn Additional Tags: I will add more pairings and characters as they become relevant, there will be some OCs as we need them in the free cities, long fic, Slow Burn, And I mean slow, Some politics, also some burning stuff, that's daemon's job, BAMF Rhaenyra Targaryen, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Misogyny, Alicent is a tragic character, Rhaenyra and Laena going on some adventures around the free cities, BAMF Rhaenys Targaryen Velaryon, I will come back and add more tags later, I'm really not that great at tagging, like rhaenyra isn't getting in a proper relationship until like chapter 20 at the earliest, and I dont think she will be getting married until like chapter 40 Summary:

The Second Targaryen Conquest of Westeros, otherwise known as the Conquest of 141 AC, is decidedly simple by the standards of wars or conquests, but has far more complicated origins that could be argued to stretch back as far as the First Conquest, but to avoid esoteric arguments I find it most practical to start with the year 106 AC.

Or: Rhaenyra runs away to Dragonstone before she is named heir. She still becomes Queen, it just takes a little longer.

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (6)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC word count | 6.3k words summary | all I'm gonna say is blood and cheese. tags | death, angst/comfort, vampire powers, blood (lots and lots of blood), trauma? aemond and reader can't keep their hands off each other, reader don't play when it comes to helaena, canon divergence note | i still haven't gotten over blood and cheese and phia saban's phenomenal acting in that episode. why is there so many oc fics in the aemond x reader tag (no hate). also contemplating writing for loki and oswald cobblepot (penguin in gotham)

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

“I am happy that my mother has let you become my lady-in-waiting,” Helaena murmured, her voice lilting like a gentle breeze.

“As am I, Princess-” you paused before correcting yourself, “My Queen—the presence of the children brings me much comfort.”

“They eagerly anticipate your visits each day,” Helaena replied with a softness in her gaze that seemed to light the room.

Seated beside the young prince Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, whose precocious spirit was beginning to shine, you cast a fond glance at Jaehaerys, who was determinedly practicing his High Valyrian. Leaning closer, you offered him an encouraging smile, “What does this mean, Jaehaerys?”

It had taken some time for your bond with the young prince to flourish. Unlike his sister, who was as lively and eager as a summer’s day, Jaehaerys was quieter, more contemplative. Yet, you noticed that now whenever you attended to your duties for Helaena, while Jaehaera would chatter your ear off cheerfully, her twin would subtly gravitate toward you, seeking comfort as you played delicately with his soft, silver hair.

“Per—perzis ano...anogor?” he stammered, his timid voice breaking the air with a hint of uncertainty.

You couldn’t help but inwardly smile at his effort; the correct pronunciation was “Perzys Anogar.” After five years spent in the sun-kissed lands of Essos, you had perfected the various dialects of High Valyrian to perfection. Yet, your encouragement for the young prince remained unwavering. At just four years old, his intelligence astounded you. “Very good, my sweet prince. And what does it mean?”

“Fire and blood!” Jaehaera exclaimed with unrestrained enthusiasm, hastening to answer before her brother could. Her eyes sparkled with delight, clearly eager to capture your full attention. Jaehaerys shot her a sidelong glance, his lips pressed together in a playful pout, while you directed your gaze to Jaehaera with admiration. “Well done, dear princess.”

"My Queen," came a maid's voice, cutting through the tranquil atmosphere of Helaena's solar. Both you and Helaena shifted your gaze, "Prince Jaehaerys is summoned for his lesson with the Maester."

Helaena, who sat gracefully upon a pile of richly embroidered cushions, her needlework perched delicately in her lap, regarded her son with a tender smile, her serene demeanor offering him encouragement. "Off you go, Jaehaerys," she urged softly.

The small prince nodded earnestly. Before following the maid through the heavy wooden doors he turned to offer you a shy wave, a glimpse of the warmth that sparked beneath his young exterior. As the sound of his footsteps faded into silence, you turned your focus back to Princess Jaehaera, who was nestled in a nearby chair, fixated on the pages of a book filled with tales of dragons and valor, Jaehaerys had been reading. After awhile, your attention shifted as the sound of eager footsteps resonated through Helaena’s solar. You turned to see Aegon striding purposefully toward you and Jaehaera.

"Lady Mikaelson," he acknowledged with a courteous nod, his gaze lingering upon you for an unsettling moment, sending an involuntary shiver down your spine before he redirected his focus to Jaehaera.

“Where is Jaehaerys?” Aegon inquired, a frown settling deeply between his brows, betraying his impatience.

Helaena’s voice was soft as a whisper, yet it held a steady resolve. “Attending his lessons.”

“And those are where?” Aegon pressed, a hint of mockery threading through his tone, forcing back the urge to scoff at his impatience.

Helaena sighed, a delicate sound that barely pierced the air. “What do you need of him?”

Aegon’s lips thinned, “Taking him to the small council,” he announced, straightening his back with lots of fervor, “He'll be king one day, he must begin his instruction.”

With an eye roll barely concealed, you turned to braid Jaehaera's sweet, silver locks, weaving strands as your thoughts tangled around Aegon’s words. Helaena’s brow furrowed slightly, and you caught the hesitation in her voice. “What if he does not wish to be king?”

Aegon’s huff echoed in the chamber, annoyed, as he leaned closer, palms pressing against his knees. “Where is he?”

“In the library,” Helaena replied, her tone tinged with reluctance. “But you must not disturb his custom.”

Aegon, ever dismissive, shrugged off her words and stepped toward the door. Yet he halted when Helaena's voice pierced the silence once more, "I am afraid."

He pivoted on his heel, regarding her with feigned nonchalance. "Don't be. They'd be fools to come with Vhagar protecting the city."

"Not the dragons," Helaena murmured, her gaze dropping to the cold stone floor. "The rats."

Aegon, along with the attendants, followed her gaze, their eyes scanning for any signs of the vermin that might lurk in the shadows.

"The queen is an enduring mystery," Aegon declared, casting a mocking glance at Helaena. "Is she not?"

With that, he departed, leaving a chill in the air. As soon as he crossed the threshold, you rose from your seat and moved to Helaena’s side, offering her a warm smile. "You need not fear the rats; the castle is filled with rat catchers."

Helaena’s frown deepened, her troubled lilac eyes meeting yours as she whispered with conviction, "That is what terrifies me."

Words escaped you, for you understood that Helaena possessed knowledge beyond the grasp of ordinary folk—truths unacknowledged and often dismissed. Instead of voicing your confusion and uncertainty, you simply clasped her hand in yours, offering the silent comfort.

Your gaze shifted, drawn by the soft, deliberate sound of footsteps as they echoed through the confines of Helaena's solar. As you looked up, your heart raced, a rhythmic thudding that quickened with warmth flooding your cheeks and fluttering butterflies stirring restlessly in your stomach. Aemond strode through the door, an unmistakable presence that demanded attention.

It was true what you'd confided to him: you were still a maiden. A maiden, after five centuries of vampiric existence, because how could you interact with any man when Nikaus, Elijah, and Kol perpetually cast watchful shadows over your every move. You recalled a particular moment in 1001 AD, when a reckless infatuation with Tristan de Martel had nearly led you to surrender your maidenhood, only to be halted by Finn’s stern intervention—a chastisement you still felt the sting of.

But Aemond was different. His presence was a siren's call, compelling and irresistible. You had lost yourself in the depths of his gaze, willingly surrendering to the passion that enveloped you, and you never wished to escape the intoxicating spell he wove around you. The ecstasy of your lovemaking had been a revelation, a visceral experience you had never dreamed possible. Despite your initial attempts to keep a distance, Aemond's determination had eroded every barrier you'd erected, and then, as you laid in the warm afterglow of those stolen moments, regret was a distant memory.

In that act, surrounded by pleasure, Aemond had awakened a sense of aliveness within you that you had not felt since you had died. His touch and words made you feel cherished, loved—deep down, you had longed for this connection. Mere days had passed since you had shared that intimate bond, yet every time your eyes met his, unbidden warmth flushed your cheeks anew.

He lingered his gaze on you for what felt like an eternity, an unspoken connection hanging heavily in the air, before directing his attention to Helaena. "Sister," he began, his tone both respectful and confident, "might I steal a moment of Lady Mikaelson's time?"

Helaena glanced between you and Aemond, a subtle spark of understanding dancing in her eyes as she nodded, a gentle smile touching her lips. "Of course, brother."

Rising slowly from your seat, you were acutely aware of the curious gazes from the other ladies in the room. Yet, before you could fully separate yourself from Helaena's side, her hand shot out, delicately grasping your wrist. "Will you come to bid Jaehaerys goodnight before you retire?" Helaena's voice slipped through the air like a delicate melody, inviting yet tinged with uncertainty.

You offered a reassuring nod, your voice soft and warm. "Of course, My Queen."

With that, you turned to Aemond, his patience evident as he awaited your move. As you stepped into the dimly lit corridor, the sound of his footsteps fell steadily in rhythm with yours. Once you had retreated far enough from the safety of Helaena's chambers, you paused and turned to him, your voice laced with curiosity, “What did you wish to—”

Before you could finish your sentence, Aemond's hands cradled your face, pulling you into an unexpected kiss. Surprise rippled through you, manifesting in a soft gasp, but you quickly surrendered to the moment, your lips responding to his with eager warmth. An exhilarating pulse of intimacy washed over you as you opened your mouth, inviting the dance of his tongue with yours, a sweet entanglement that momentarily erased the world around you.

When at last Aemond broke the kiss, his breath came heavy and laden with unspoken emotions, and he pressed his forehead against yours, that mischievous violet eye glinting with resolve. "I plan to go to the small council to announce our betrothal."

Your breath caught in surprise as you took a small step back, trying to comprehend his words. “Betrothal?” The weight of his intentions settled heavily on your heart.

A marriage with him would be folly; he was a prince, destined for heirs and an aging legacy, while you—a vampire—would remain eternally youthfully beautiful, bound to a dead womb. Yet his audacity ignited a spark of indignation in you, prompting a petulant response, “Aemond, you didn’t even ask me.”

A small, infuriating smirk played upon his lips, a faint acknowledgment of your protest. “Will you marry me then?”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms defiantly. “How very romantic of you.” The gravity of the moment drew your expression into something more serious as you continued, “Aemond, we are bracing ourselves for war—planning a wedding now would be utterly misplaced.”

“It will be a beacon of hope for the smallfolk,” he argued earnestly, the conviction in his voice palpable.

"At the cost of the kingdom’s coin," you countered sharply, your voice laden with reality.

He dismissed your worries with a wave of his hand, as though to sweep away the logic. “Then we’ll have something modest—”

“Aemond,” you chided softly, lifting your hands to cradle his chiseled face. At your delicate touch, he fell silent, his fierce demeanor momentarily quelled. Deep down, you were acutely aware that his determination to wed you would remain unyielding. In a bid to find common ground you decided to offer an empty concession, “Let us marry after the war.”

His solitary violet eye bore into yours, piercing deeper as if seeking to unravel the very essence of your soul. "You swear it," he demanded, his voice a low thrum of intensity.

Inside, a tumult stirred; 'No,' your thoughts whispered, for you could not predict the war's course. The Iron Throne rightfully belonged to Rhaenyra, and the Blacks appeared poised to triumph. Yet, your heart was tethered to the Greens, bound by an affection that defied reason. The weight of it all threatened to crush you, leading you to contemplate escape back to your world, to your family—a choice that would certainly bring Niklaus's wrath upon you.

But with a deep breath, you embraced the moment, nodding serenely as you wove your words into a gentle lie. "I swear it."

Aemond's gaze lingered in your eyes, a moment stretched between you like the fragile threads of fate. As he nodded, a wave of relief washed over you, warm and undeniable. Yet, as if sealing your pact, his lips found yours once more, igniting a tempest within your heart. The weight of your deception pressed heavily upon you, yet you surrendered to the solace of his kiss, seeking refuge in its intoxication.

The kiss deepened, evolving into something more fervent, as Aemond gently ushered you backward until your back met the cold stone wall. His tongue danced with yours, a fierce desire eclipsing the trepidation that lingered in your mind, as if he sought to claim not merely your lips but your very essence.

A sudden noise pricked at your senses, the swift approach of footsteps echoing through the hallway. In a flurry of instinct, you pushed Aemond away just as a servant passed by. The servant’s gaze flicked towards you, then promptly fell to the ground, yet you could almost feel the unspoken thoughts swirling in their mind. A shiver of apprehension ran through you; you knew whispers would soon scatter among the servants like leaves in the wind.

As the footsteps faded into the distance, Aemond clasped your hands, his grip a mix of desperation and longing. "I yearn to be with you again," he mused, his voice a low rumble that resonated deep within your core.

"I feel the same," you replied softly, bringing his hands to your lips in a tender gesture, savoring the skin you coveted.

Alas, the moment was fleeting, as the sound of hurried footfalls approached again prompting the two of you to separate once more. Aemond exhaled, a hint of irritation lacing his tone. "And yet, in this castle, we are forever denied our privacy."

You tilted your head, curiosity piqued. "What do you propose?"

He paused, a flicker of hesitation in his gaze, before his lips parted to reveal his audacious suggestion. "The Street of Silk."

"Aemond—" you interjected, surprise and concern overtaking your thoughts.

"Calm yourself," he urged, his hands finding their way to your waist, drawing you closer, the warmth of his body burning away your reservations. "We would seek only a room, nothing more. A night enveloped in our own secret, away from prying eyes."

A hesitant sigh escaped your lips, your heart fluttering at the prospect yet tethered by caution. "Aemond."

In a tender gesture, he kissed your forehead, followed by soft pecks on your cheeks, then lingered with his lips brushing against yours. It was pathetic how quickly you melted under his affection, yearning for the contact that ignited a fire within you. His voice, barely above a whisper, danced against your lips, "Tonight?"

With a surrender that surprised even yourself, you acquiesced. "Alright." His eye sparkled with triumph as he finally pressed his lips against yours, granting you the sweetness you craved.

Yet, he broke away, his breath mingling with yours. "I shall meet you at your chambers—"

"No," you countered softly, concern lacing your words. "It would be dangerous for us to be seen leaving the castle together."

He regarded you with a stern expression, a protective glimmer in his eye as he shook his head. "Fleabottom is no place for a lady to wander alone."

You smiled gently at his earnestness, reassured him with conviction, "I’ll be fine, Aemond. I promise."

With a resigned sigh from you, he leaned in to steal another kiss, the taste of his resolve lingering. "Then it is settled. Meet me at the Blue Pearl tonight."

“I will,” you vowed, your mind clouded by the intoxicating pull of his presence, rational thought slipping away like sand through fingers.

The Keep lay shrouded in an eerie silence as you stepped into the dimly lit corridor from your chambers. The air was thick with an unsettling stillness, as if the very walls held their breath, rendering the castle a hollow shell. With purpose, you made your way toward the Queen’s chambers, determined to fulfill your promise to Helaena and bid the twins a gentle goodnight.

You wrapped your cloak tightly around your shoulders, bracing against the biting winds that swept through the stone hallways. A sense of foreboding clawed at your thoughts, quickening your steps as you approached Helaena's solar.

As you neared her chambers, the quiet was shattered by a pained whimper—a sound that sent a chill racing down your spine. Without hesitation, you pushed through the door, only to freeze in shock at the scene before you. A filthy man loomed over Helaena, his grip merciless as he held a knife to her delicate throat. The metallic scent of her blood hung heavy in the air, as you noticed a small nick on her neck.

Your instincts flared to life, propelling you forward to confront the intruder. But before you could move, strong arms encircled you, halting your advance. "Who the fuck is she?" the brute growled, his gaze locked onto the man who held Helaena captive.

“She’s the queen she is,” the crazed man replied, a sickly laugh escaping his lips, his gaze dancing between you and Helaena, relishing the chaos.

“A son for a son, he said,” came the rough retort of the man holding you, his grip tightening like a vice. “Does she look like a fucking son to you?”

The realization struck you like a bolt of lightning—revenge. These madmen had been sent by the Blacks, likely by Daemon himself, to claim a son in return for Lucerys Valaryon.

Pointing with a blood-stained finger, the deranged man holding Helaena, gestured to the cribs across the room, where Jaehaerys and Jaehaera lay asleep, vulnerable to the whims of fate. “Over there,” he sneered, a glint of madness flashing across his eyes.

A chilling wave of nausea washed over you as dread seeped into your heart, realizing the intent behind his actions. Yet, even with the unfathomable power you possessed, you hesitated. You could kill these men in mere moments, reduce them to shredded pieces, but the fear in Helaena’s wide eyes anchored you. You could not afford to frighten her further.

“Release her,” you commanded, your tone a blend of authority and menace, ever mindful of the trembling figure of the queen. “You do not know the darkness you invite with your intentions”

The grip of the man holding you tightened, his fingers like iron shackles, deaf to your words. Instead, the madman holding Helaena chortled, an unsettling sound that grated against your nerves. "We need to get our head and get out."

A simmering rage ignited within you at his vile insinuation, your voice turning low and menacing as you retorted, "If you dare imply what I think, know that your life shall end before you can ever look upon the prince."

The large brute, his bulk a grotesque parody of strength, pressed his clammy hand against your throat, constricting it as he growled, "Shut your fucking mouth, woman."

In that chilling moment, Helaena found her voice, her eyes wide with terror as they darted between you and the man’s tightening grasp. "I have a necklace," she stammered, her heart echoing her fear, "It's of great value."

The man holding you scoffed, his eyes narrowing with disdain. "That’s not a son."

His grip tightened further, but to you, it was nothing more than the grasp of a mere mortal, a fleeting nuisance. With an air of fatalistic calm, you shrugged, “I’ve warned you, and now you shall reap the consequences.”

As the darkness of your true nature surged, crimson flames ignited in your gaze. Veins suffused with blood snaked under your skin and the sharp glint of fangs elongated in exquisite hunger. The man holding Helaena faltered, the smile that once adorned his lips vanished, replaced by a primal terror as he regarded you. “What’s—what’s happening to your face?!”

Confusion roiled in the eyes of the man who had once held your throat captive. Before he could fully comprehend the depths of his error, you moved with the swiftness of a striking snake, your head whipping around as you buried your fangs deep into his pallid flesh. His scream reverberated like a death knell against the stone.

With one fierce tug, you tore into him—a vicious rip that sent a warm spray of blood cascading over your face, painting your features in hues of crimson. The brute’s body slackened, his grip fading as life bled from him like the night fleeing before dawn. He crumpled to the ground dead.

Your attention shifted, a predatory glare now focused on the other man, who quivered holding Helaena securely but fearfully at knifepoint. His confidence wavered as your fury ignited the air around you, and he stepped back, terror threading his voice, “If you come any closer, I swear I’ll kill her—”

In a heartbeat, you were before him. Your eyes cooled to an earthly hue, compelling yet cold, as your voice held the weight of your compulsion. “Step away from the queen."

The resolve in his eyes shattered, obedience taking root as he released Helaena, fear transforming into a savage obedience. But that was not enough; oh no, they would pay dearly for their actions. You stepped closer, lowering your voice to a whisper laced with venom. “Now… stick your knife in your throat.”

Tears cascaded down his cheeks, streaming with unspoken horror as he felt the weight of your will. Whimpering like a child at the mercy of a storm, he struggled against the compulsion, but your magic throbbed through the air, binding him tighter within your grasp. The dagger trembled in his hand before the metal found flesh, cutting deeply as crimson blessing spilled forth. He gasped, choking as despair overwhelmed him, stabbing again and again until his last breath escaped into the silence of the room, and dropped to the ground.

In the wake of such violence, as blood pooled and splattered across the cold floor, your features softened, the fierce gleam fading from your visage. Your fangs retracted, and your eyes reverted to their natural colour, the monstrous visage slipping away like a shadow at dawn.

A tumult of emotions swirled within you—fear, regret—until your gaze flicked to Helaena, ready to face the disgust you expected. Yet, as her eyes met yours, confusion twisted within you; there was no horror, no disgust in her gaze—only a profound relief.

You took a hesitant step back, bewildered by her calm demeanor. "Are you not afraid of me?" you questioned, your voice barely above a whisper.

Her brow furrowed in genuine confusion as she softly said, “You saved us."

You realized she might be still grappling with the shock, as she drifted across the room, her movements fluid and deliberate. She bypassed the gruesome scene left in your wake, retrieving a handkerchief with an unsettling nonchalance. Approaching you with a tender resolve, she reached forth, seeking to wipe the blood from your face. Her touch was gentle, a stark contrast to the brutality that had just unfolded.

Yet, as the fabric of her care swept across your skin, your brow furrowed at the sight of tears beginning to brim in Helaena's eyes. “Helaena—what's wrong?” you implored, clasping her trembling hands firmly within yours. “You need not fear; all is well now, you are safe.”

Her tears continued to spill softly, tracing delicate paths down her pale cheeks, as she whispered in a voice that seemed to drift like a dream, “I thought I was lost in one of my dreams. I did not realize it was the truth laid bare before me.”

“It was,” you replied gently, your voice a quiet promise. “But it is over now.”

“If you had not been here, Jaehaerys would be—” she faltered, her composure cracking as a choked sob escaped her lips.

You could only watch her, sorrow etched upon your face, as she turned away from you and hurried to the crib where Jaehaerys slept, oblivious to the tempest that had transpired around him and his sister. Slowly, she lifted the sleeping boy into her arms, his silver hair catching the light like stars against the night sky. She cradled him tightly, swaying gently as if to soothe not just him, but the remnants of her own grief.

“They almost took my boy,” Helaena murmured, her voice a soft lament, entwined within the strands of Jaehaerys’ hair, as if she sought comfort in his very existence.

Aemond exhaled sharply as he finally approached the entrance of the Blue Pearl, its facade gleaming with a deceptive allure. He paused for a moment, memories swirling like smoke from the incense within—each recollection a weight pressing down upon him, reminding him of the last time he had stepped through these doors.

As he crossed the threshold into the brothel, the atmosphere assaulted his senses: the heady scent of incense mingled with the intoxicating sounds of fervent moans and whispered promises that echoed through the dimly lit chambers. The air was thick with a palpable energy, a collision of desire and desperation.

Maintaining a cold and stoic demeanor, Aemond navigated the labyrinth of shadowy corners and silken drapes, his singular focus on securing a room where you both could retreat from the burdens of the outside world, if only for a fleeting night. Under the enveloping darkness of his hooded cloak, he radiated an aura of menace; others instinctively parted before him, quaking under the weight of his dangerous glare.

However, his composure faltered for just a moment when he felt a delicate hand brush against his arm. A surge of indignation coursed through him, instincts honed to ready his strike against anyone who dared encroach upon his space—anyone, that is, who was not you.

Yet, upon turning, he found himself face to face with the last person he wished to encounter. Madam Sylvi, the proprietor of this establishment, stood before him, her presence a haunting reminder of a past he had sought to forget. She was the first woman to lay claim to him, a forced initiation into a world of shadows that had snatched away his boyhood, all at the insidious urging of his brother. Aemond's heart raced, caught between the clutches of anger and the bitter taste of old wounds that threatened to resurface.

"My Prince," she began, her lips curving into what she believed to be a beguiling smile. To Aemond, however, it appeared more akin to a grimace painted upon her features. "What an unexpected pleasure it is to see you once again in these halls."

Feeling a tide of shame wash over him, he averted his gaze, staring intently at the carved wooden floor beneath his feet. “All I seek is a room,” he muttered, his voice barely a whisper.

"And which girl shall I send to warm your bed?" she teased, her tone dripping with seduction. Then, with a coy pause, she added, "Or perhaps you are in need of a woman instead?"

He clenched his jaw, his frustration rising. “Just a room,” he insisted, his voice firm, yet faltering.

She let out a soft, lilting hum, feigning disappointment. “A shame,” she purred, her fingers trailing along his arm—a gesture that made his skin crawl. “But know that my arms are always open, especially for you.”

The urge to retaliate surged within him; he imagined the swift, savage justice he could enact. Yet, he found himself rooted to the spot, paralyzed by the memory of their past encounters—memories that danced like shadows in his mind, haunting him still.

Clearing his throat, he risked a glance in her direction, his resolve strengthening. “A Lady will come through your doors. Instruct her where to find me.”

With that, he turned on his heel, striding away before she could utter another word.

Not long after, five figures had made their way into Helaena's solar, their presence a stark contrast to the brutality that had enveloped the chamber moments before. A maid, having spotted one of the trespassers who had slipped into the shadows, acted on her apprehension and sought out a guard.

This led to Lord Otto Hightower being summoned, and he, it seemed, was the sole soul present who maintained the decorum expected of his station. He had seized Aegon with the kind of authoritative grip one might use on a mischievous pup caught reveling in intoxication on the Iron Throne, before promptly calling for Lord Larys.

In due course, Queen Alicent and Ser Criston appeared, ostensibly by chance, though you with your keen senses could detect the unmistakable scent of their shared intimacy lingering upon them, a confirmation of their clandestine liaison.

You sat beside Helaena, who cradled Jaehaerys to her chest as if to shield him from the undercurrents of chaos swirling around them. In your arms, you held Jaehaera, both twins blissfully unaware, lost in the serenity of slumber.

“Who dared to do this? I demand to know! Who is responsible?” Aegon's voice erupted, slicing through the stillness with an edge of fury. News of the attempted assassination against his son had ignited the embers of his inebriated stupor into a roaring blaze of rage. You cast him a disapproving glare, a silent rebuke for his outburst, mindful of the slumbering children.

“The man uttered, ‘a son for a son, he said,’ I suspect he was referring to Prince Daemon, Your Grace,” you interjected softly, your voice a steady balm amidst the tumult.

Alicent, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, approached Helaena, settling beside her. She reached out tenderly, her fingers brushing against the peaceful features of sleeping Jaehaerys, you could see how guilt was feasting upon her soul.

"These villains, these traitors," Aegon spat, his words laced with venom. The anguish of nearly losing his heir carved lines of distress into his face, revealing that beneath the hardened exterior, perhaps Aegon did possess a heart capable of love. "My son is my legacy. My son is heir to the iron throne!”

His gaze then turned, sharp and accusatory, to Ser Criston, whose presence loomed in the doorway. "And where were you, Ser Criston? The Lord Commander of my King's Guard slumbers while my blood is threatened?"

You noted how Alicent’s expression tightened with concern as she cast a furtive glance toward Criston, who stared resolutely at the stone floor, his shame palpable. "I was abed, Your Grace, having dispatched orders to the Night's Watch," he replied.

"Abed?" Aegon echoed, incredulity lacing his words. "While your post was to safeguard the sanctity of my family?"

The Hand let out a weary sigh from his position at the periphery of the room. "Calm yourself, Aegon. The prince still lives," he interjected, attempting to quell the rising tide of tension.

"Yes," Aegon yelled, his attention shifting to you, "only because of Lady Mikaelson. A woman! All of you should hang your heads in shame."

You inhaled sharply at Aegon's jab, which he unknowingly let out. Lord Larys, his gaze insidious and lingering, leaned forward with a slithering curiosity. "What I truly wish to understand is how you managed to subdue two fully grown men, my lady."

The weight of every gaze in the room now turned to you, even Aegon momentarily relinquished his tirade to await your reply. You spoke with steady conviction, "I grew up among five brothers, My Lord. The dance of a blade is not foreign to me." Your voice joined the whispers of the past, your eyes glancing at the first man you had killed. "The first was a brute, slow in his approach. The second, however, was a madman, blinded by insanity."

"It matters not how she accomplished it," Aegon interjected, his impatience barely concealed, "The only thing that matters is she saved Jaehaerys' life."

A wave of relief washed over you as the next figure entered Helaena's solar, a dim light spilling in from the hallway. Aemond's gaze instantly locked onto the grim scene before him, his single eye widening as it fell upon the two lifeless bodies, bloodied and sprawled across the elegant stone floor. “What has happened here?” he demanded.

Aegon's temper flared like wildfire at the sight, stepping forward to confront Aemond, but the latter remained unruffled, his expression a picture of cool composure amidst the turmoil. “And where were you, while my son lay nearly murdered in his own bed?”

“On patrol, brother,” Aemond replied, his tone smooth and casual, though the lie dripped with an unsettling ease. His eyes then landed on you, his brow furrowing as concern flickered across his striking features. Ignoring Aegon entirely, he approached you, noting the streaks of crimson marring your skin. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice softening.

As his hand reached towards your face, you instinctively recoiled, acutely aware of the watchful eyes surrounding you both. “It is not my blood, Your Highness,” you assured him.

Aegon's voice roared again, filling the solar like a tempest. “What course shall we take now? How do we retaliate?” His frustration echoed off the walls.

You could hear Otto Hightower’s resigned sigh. “This is not a moment for rash vengeance, Aegon. Perhaps there is some good may yet come of this.”

“I will not be seen as weak,” Aegon ground out, determination hardening his features.

“You’re already seen as weak, Aegon,” Otto replied with cold clarity, counting off each grim incident, “A hasty coronation, a dragon escaping the pit. The people see an omen. They whisper in the streets. They say, perhaps Rhaenyra should be queen.”

"Let us thus feign that the deed is done, that her assassination was successful." He paused, his keen gaze settling upon the slumbering form of little Jaehaerys. “You would name her: monster. Slayer of infants. I would do more than that—a funeral procession. We shall construct a small casket for Jaehaerys and let the realm gaze upon the handiwork of this pretender who seeks the crown.”

“Your grand design has a singular flaw, Grandsire,” Aegon spat, stepping protectively in front of Helaena and the sleeping child, his posture defiant. “Jaehaerys lives. His existence cannot be kept hidden within these stone walls; word of his survival will soon seep through the cracks.”

“Not if we send him away—this very night,” Otto replied, his voice resolute, a calculated glint igniting his gaze.

“No,” Helaena murmured, instinctively tightening her embrace around Jaehaerys, as if her warmth alone could shield him from danger.

“No!” Aegon echoed, his tone thunderous compared to Helaena’s whisper. “It is far too dangerous for him beyond these castle walls.”

“And yet,” Lord Hightower replied, his tone sharp as a dagger, “he came dangerously close to death even within them.”

“Then where shall he go?” Alicent broke her silence, her voice carrying the weight of desperation.

The Lord Hand fell silent, his brow furrowed in contemplation, before his keen gaze shifted toward you. “Lady Mikaelson,” he began, a shrewd glint of ambition glimmering in his eyes, “your family resides in the Reach, do they not?”

"Indeed, Lord Hand," you replied smoothly, a lie slipping from your lips with practiced ease. You anticipated his intentions even before he continued. "We lie just beyond Golden Grove."

“Ah, that lies near Highgarden,” Otto mused, his mind racing with possibilities before breaking the stillness of the room, “The Tyrells have pledged neutrality, rendering it one of the scant havens in all of Westeros. Thus, it is decided: Jaehaerys shall journey there with Lady Mikaelson tonight. She has protected Jaehaerys once and now she will do so again.”

Aegon, his fingers brushing through Jaehaerys's soft curls as he rested, sighed in reluctant agreement. "Very well, but I demand that half of the White Cloaks accompany them."

Otto scoffed derisively, shaking his head. "No, such a show of force would raise too many suspicions. We can spare only two, perhaps four at the most."

"It would be swifter and safer by dragonback," Aemond interjected, his voice threading through the tension in the room. You turned to meet his gaze, which seemed to be focused only on you, "I can take Lady Mikaelson and Jaehaerys upon Vhagar."

Otto Hightower’s brow furrowed in disapproval. "That would be far too conspicuous."

“Then I shall accompany them,” Aemond asserted, his determination hardening like steel.

"No," Aegon countered firmly, his tone brooking no dissent. "We need you here."

Before Aemond could mount another argument, you rose from your seat, gently moving the sleeping Jaehaera into Alicent's waiting arms. Your voice rang out, steady and resolute amidst the rising tempests of conflict. “It is alright," you spoke clearly, “I will go.”

If Aemond ever met the Mikaelsons...

Names that are in bold are ones that couldn't be added :(

@barnes70stark @izabell26 @anyisaravia2001 @urdeftonesgrrrl @helo1281917 @strangefunthornqueen @ellie-xOxo @hueanhdang @elenapri0502 @goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog @caged-birdies-blog @darktrashsoulbear @lenavonswartzschild @writtenbyhollywood @gl4ssw1ngp1xy @goddesslilithmoriarty @sunset18rose @filmflux @esposadomd @sara-grimes-yess @littybeech @gyneve @https-kokomi @void21 @yariany02 @baby-w3-ar3-infinite @baby-i-can-see-your-reylo @niktwazny303 @ln8118 @missyviolet123 @caribbeangal @ggukiespace @levimaids

[pumpkinfyre]

Being Rhaenyra's Only Daughter and Heir

Yandere House of the Dragon/Bastard! Velaryon! Reader

warnings: yandere content, platonic yandere, romantic yandere, reader is based on my oc naelys velaryon, but is a reader insert for inclusiveness, protective mama nyra, readers father is cole, hubby! aegon, daemon

RHAENYRA, who adores her baby girl! Oh, she would waltz around the Red Keep with her baby in her arms, showing the little Valyrian bundle of joy to anyone who crossed pathes with her. Her daughter, I imagine, would be the product of her time with Ser Cole, and while they no longer were close, and Criston seems to despise Rhaenyra now, she holds nothing but love for her precious daughter. Rhaenyra is very protective of her babies, but moreso of her daughter. Society is cruel to little girls, and she knows this very well. During the Dance, Rhaenyra became increasingly paranoid because her baby was stuck in Kings Landing. Her ultimate fear is losing (Name), and they are separated after the death of Viserys.

DAEMON is (Name)'s stepfather, and while she doesn't seem to like him very well, he holds a great fondness for her, as though she were his own daughter. He isn't very adequate as a father, and he often comes off as annoying and cocky, but he loves (Name) dearly! There is a theory that Daemon and Rhaenyra had Laenor killed so they could be together, and she hears these whispers. (Name) tries to keep a distance between her and Daemon, but he almost pushes himself into her life. As soon as Daemon and Rhaenyra marry, he starts to refer to himself as (Name)'s father, and this makes her upset because she still grieves Laenor.

JACAERYS, LUCERYS, AND LITTLE JOFF love their big sister! She's so wise and beautiful, and she dotes on them all like little ducklings. Jace is only a few years younger than (Name), so he takes on an almost protective role towards his sister. I imagine she's soft-spoken and sweet, much like Aemma was, so Jace feels like he needs to watch over her to make sure that no one corrupts his dear elder sister. Lucerys depends on (Name) for emotional support, as he's rather insecure. Both Lucerys and Joffrey follow her around and look up to (Name). I imagine she'd be especially close with little Joff, as he often clings to her like a suckerfish.

AEGON is (Name)'s husband and father of her children. Viserys marry them to each other in a bleak attempt to mend the differences between Alicent and Rhaenyra. It doesn't work, obviously, but Aegon is absolutely whipped for his wifey. He follows her around like a lost puppy and is willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her at his side. Once the war begins and their first son is murdered, Aegon becomes paranoid and forces his wife into isolation, for her own good, he says. He holds a hard disdain for her mother and tries several times to turn her against Rhaenyra. Aegon really just wants to take his wifey and babies to essos to life peacefully, but he knows he can't.

CRISTON COLE is (Name)'s true father, and despite holding disdain for Rhaenyra, he yearns to be close to his daughter. As a knight, Criston knows that he will never have a wife, nor will he ever become a father to happy children. He knowingly gave all of that away when he said his vows. Alas, Rhaenyra's pride and joy is a living reminder of his shame. She is innocent, sweet, and honorable, everything Criston is not. The pain of having to watch his child being raised by two different men kills Cole, as all he yearns for is to cradle her in his arms like any father would. Once the Dance begins, Criston fights with dedication. The dedication of a father.

the reader is based on my oc Naelys Velaryon from my fic 'prisoner of vows' (≡・x・≡)

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[g1rlw1th0n33ye3]

When the sun goes down.

Summary ~ Aegon Targaryen II x reader ( no use of y/n cause noo) Aegon finds out something unexpected during his most recent visit to the street of silk.

Warnings- Dubious consent, Drunk sex, its Smut so like yuh know 🧍🏽‍♀️

Also, this is my first fic ever so be nice, please!! I had a day off and a bottle of pink Whitney so here we are! I hope you enjoy also Aegon isn't complete scum of the earth in this story because no that face to pretty for that bad writing and he's not married either Helena and Jace are married and the twins are Jace's kids instead of Aegon's for plot reasons ok enjoy my baby dolls and lemme know if you want a part two!! 🫡

The hour was late as Aegon made his way through the tunnels of Megors holdfast intent on getting to the street of silk as fast as he could he needed something to destress after another unbearably dreadful family dinner they'd been happening more frequently since Helena had given birth to another baby boy this one with bright white hair unlike the two twin babes heads full of brown curls like there father she had given birth to two years earlier it seems his mother has finally accepted that the delusional idea of annulling the marriage was no longer possible now the two sides would favor being intertwined whether she liked or not though her new urge for family dinners to try and bring the family together prove her delusion is not fully gone. Aegon thinks to himself as he slides himself past the guards. Dressed in his usual common clothes disguised for sneaking about so as not to raise any suspicion to the roaming gold cloaks he kept his hood placed high on his head to hide his white tresses as he bobbed and weaved through the huddles of small folk through the streets of flea bottom till he reached his favorite brothel on the street of silk though he hadn't frequented it in awhile a new brothel full of women from Essos had been keeping him otherwise occupied but tonight he wished to be in the place he called closest to home as he entered hood down looking a disheveled mess the madam had immediately come up to him ready to shoo him off till he took off his hood white hair flowing freely that she stopped in her place and instead ushered over the cupbearer and grabbed a glass of wine from the girls tray and holding it out for Aegon

" my prince we haven't been graced with your presence in some time what a pleasure what can i do for you this fine night my prince" the madam spoke with almost an unnerving smile Aegon looked about the room taking it all in before speaking to the madam "I don't know about a fine night but just keep sending pretty girls to fill my cup for me and I'm sure soon it will be " he said before grabbing the wine and making his way to the pile of pillows and blankets strown around a little make shift stage with a dancer atop as he settled down and began chugging his wine beginning to feel the effects of his drink the whole room starting to feel like a warm mix of colors when he finally gazes upon the dancer he's settled Infront of taking in her beautiful face and body adorned in jewels she looked strangely familiar like a face he new but hadn’t seen in a long time the longer he watched you move the more he feel like he was falling into a dream the way you danced around swirling silk scarves in every direction pulling him in that mixed with his cup of wine the bar maids made sure to never let empty he was sure he was in a dream now, he was suddenly snapped out of his trance when he saw you dismount your makeshift stage and make your way for the stairs that led to the back rooms where the girls slept men weren’t allowed back there cause that’s where many of the other girls left the children to sleep while they worked if he didn’t get to you now you he would be out of luck for the rest of the night, he quickly got up and moved as fast as his drunk limbs would carry himself to get to you before you slipped through his grasp “ you there stop “ he said somehow out of breath from simply getting up to cross the room .

Stopping in your place as you adjust your robe you had finished your final dance of the night and were ready to rest your tired legs on your bed when you hear some drunk fool calling out behind you surly following you to ask for a night of your company though your surprised when you turn and are instead met with a drunken prince falling over himself to get to you. “ My prince i was just about to retire to my chambers but i’d be happy to find you another to serve you for the night” you say forcing a smile on your face “ you look familiar have we met before though i don’t think i would have forgot a night with someone as enticing as you” he whispers the honey laced words to you as he comes closer you try to back up to keep a respectable distance but he’s right on your tale “ y…yes my prince we did spend a night together some three years ago i was much different looking then so it’s understandable your memory fails you and well you were also quiet drunk m’prince “ you reveal hoping it will get him off your back men rarely want the same thing twice in a place like this a shame “ a shame i can’t recall though it just gives us more reason to make new ones “ he’s says leaning in to whisper in your ear his warm breath the smelled of honeyed wined fanning your face words catching in your throat at the way he pressed his nose to the side or your face to breathe in your smell “ I’m sorry to disappoint M’ prince but i’m just a dancer now my company is unfortunately not for sale and the madam would be upset with me for taking client from her actual girls but id be happy to help you find one of them “ you feel him pull away at your words a grunge pained on his face “ I didn’t ask for some other girl i asked to spend my time with you and i don’t see the madam here making sure her costumers are tended to so why don’t we just keep it between us and i give you all this gold i have here one this sack and this here “ he says handing you a fully stuffed bag of gold dragons and the golden ring that adorned his middle finger your jaw particularly drops at the sight of all the gold “ for you just for you not the madam what she knows won’t hurt her and will certainly help you “ he says with a mischievous glint to his eyes you look back down at the small fortune he’s handed you it nearly enough to get you out of this dreadful city

“we can do whatever you want “ he speaks one more time trying to convince you a hopefull drunk sloppy smile painted on his face even you can’t deny is charming “ I… alright”

You led him down the stairs by the hand to your small chambers at the very end of the long hall that held all of you and all the other girls' rooms you quickly pulled him in and turned to lock the door to avoid any prying eyes though it was unlikely anybody would be around at this hour non of the other girls usually made it back to there chambers before the sunrise when you turned from the door you found him sat at the edge of your bed taking off his heavy boots and placing them to the side before getting up and beginning his exploration of your room " did you spend all that coin just to gaze upon my perfumes and lotions " you finally speak trying to break the tension, he chuckles to himself before speaking " Mayhaps I did i mean I did say we could do whatever you wanted so you tell me what I paid for " he says looking at you with that tempting smirk of his " Whatever you'd like to m' prince" you say as you remove your robe to be only left in your dancing clothes if they could even be called that it was two simple strips of silk one covering your breasts and one covering your bottom all connected with a strip of jewels to make a sheer dress. You watch as he watches you as you remove your robe before stalking over to you trapping you between the door and himself. The moment Aegon pinned you between the door and himself, the air crackled with an electric tension. His violet eyes gleamed with mischief as they took in the sight of you, draped in the delicate silk of your attire, expertly designed to entice. “Call me Aegon,” he said softly, his voice low and enticing. “There's no need for formality here, pretty girl.” You tilted your head slightly, a playful smile gracing your lips. “Aegon,” you replied, letting his name roll off your tongue with a hint of teasing. It felt daring, refreshing, in a world filled with whispers and expectations. “What do you want?” he asked, leaning in just a fraction closer, his breath warm against your skin. You could feel the weight of his presence, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. A smirk danced across your face as you countered, “What do you want, Aegon?” It was a bold question, not typically asked of a prince, but you had learned to navigate these encounters with a blend of charm and confidence. He paused, a glimmer of surprise flashing in his eyes. “I want to know you—beyond what I see in this place. For tonight, I want to escape the constraints of my title and be just a man in your presence.” Your heart raced at his words, intrigued by this unexpected vulnerability. “Then let’s embrace that freedom together,” you suggested, eager for an evening untethered from convention. With a swift, graceful movement, you stepped closer, the silk of your dress brushing against him. “I must admit, I don’t often get to entertain a prince,” you said, your voice rich with playful mischief. Aegon chuckled, clearly delighted by your banter. “I’m not like the others, I assure you.”

As the tense atmosphere thickened between you, you could feel your pulse quickening. Every heartbeat echoed the electric pull between you—a magnetic attraction that begged to be explored. “Can I…?” he began, hesitation lacing his voice as he searched your eyes for permission.You nodded, breath catching in your throat. “Please,” you whispered, excitement pooling in your stomach. Aegon leaned in, capturing your lips with his in a soft but eager kiss. The taste of him sent shivers racing through your body, igniting a flame of desire that radiated from your core. You melted against him, feeling his warmth envelop you as he deepened the kiss.His hands found your waist, fingers sliding under the silk of your dress, caressing your skin with a slow, tantalizing touch. You gasped into his mouth, a mixture of surprise and longing coursing through you.

“Beautiful ,” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot as he pulled back just enough to search your eyes. With a surge of confidence, you leaned in, kissing him again, more fervently this time, deepening the connection that was rapidly spiraling into something primal. You could feel his heartbeat racing alongside yours, the tension thickening in the space around you. As he kissed you, his hands traveled further up your sides, gripping your waist with a firm but gentle hold. You arched into him, yearning for more, your body responding instinctively. Aegon used the momentum to press you back against the wall, the solid surface grounding you as he pressed his body closer, molding you against him. “Do you want this?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear, igniting a rush of desire. “Yes,” you breathed, feeling the heat flush your cheeks. “I want you.” His gaze ignited with hunger at your words, and he captured your lips again, kissing you deeply, as if he were trying to consume you whole. “Let’s move to the bed,” he suggested, voice gravelly as he pulled back, clearing the space to carry you. Without waiting for an answer, he swept you off your feet, lifting you into his arms effortlessly. You gasped, your heart racing as he carried you to your simple bed draped in soft, inviting silks to seem more lavish . He gently laid you down on the mattress, hovering above you, his violet eyes burning with fervor. The anticipation making your body ache for his touch as Aegon slipped lower, trailing kisses along your body. He kissed down your neck, over your collarbone, and down to the swell of your breasts, but he didn’t stop there. His eyes darkened with desire as he made his way down your torso, his lips leaving a trail of fire in their wake. “Let me taste you,” he murmured, glancing up at you for permission. The intense anticipation made your breath hitch, and all you could do was nod, overwhelmed by the way he looked at you, like a man starved.

He nestled between your legs, and as he kissed the soft skin of your inner thigh, your body tingled with excitement. The heat of his breath against your most sensitive areas made you squirm, the anticipation driving you wild. With teasing slowness, Aegon’s mouth found your core. The moment his tongue made contact lapping t your senstive bud, a gasp escaped your throat. His tongue moved with a masterful grace, licking and swirling, expertly coaxing pleasure from you. “Oh, Aegon,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his short curls as he pressed closer, the sensations building rapidly within you. He drank you in, sounds of your pleasure encouraging him, urging him to explore further. “Just like that,” you gasped, hips instinctively rocking against him. The pleasure he gave you was overwhelming, a wave of ecstasy that swept through you, threatening to consume you. He moved with determination, using his tongue to tease and tantalize, exploring every sensitive spot with the precision of a skilled lover. Each flick sent jolts of pleasure sparking through your body, pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel your breathing becoming erratic, each gentle stroke igniting an inferno deep inside you. “I’m so close,” you gasped, unable to restrain the sounds bubbling from deep within. Aegon heightened his pace, his mouth working you to the brink, the pressure building so exquisitely that you could hardly believe it. The world faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in an intimate dance of pleasure. With a final surge of intensity, you cried out, your body arching as waves of bliss crashed over you, holding you captive in a sweet surrender. The sensation consumed you, leaving you breathless and blissfully spent. He emerged from between your thighs, a smug smile gracing his lips as he wiped them with the back of his hand. “You taste even better than I imagined,” he teased, his eyes sparkling with satisfaction. Now, with your body humming from pleasure, you pulled him in for a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his lips. The heat between you flared back to life as your bodies tangled, the urgency of your connection surging once more. With renewed desire, you whispered, “Now I need you inside me.” His eyes darkened with longing at your words. “I can make that happen,” he replied, his fingers hastily shedding his trousers, to release his aching cock. He hastily positioned himself at your entrance, rubbing his leaking cock head over your weeping slit before slowly, achingly, pushing his cock inside you, breaking through the last barriers that kept you apart. You gasped, a mixture of pleasure and fullness consuming you as he filled you so completely. With a deep, primal urgency, he began to thrust, the rhythm of your bodies a perfect match. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure radiating through you, driving you both toward the brink. “Just like that,” you urged, feeling the tension within you build with every thrust. “Tell me how good it feels,” he demanded, his voice low and gravelly as he continued to drive into you, at a frantic pace

“It feels … uh soo good, Aegon i’m so close ,” you moaned, feeling your body tighten around him, welcoming him deeper. “ Me to sweet girl, me too “ he panted into your neck as he continued to pound into you cunt your sweet little sounds spurring him on the heat between you both intensified, and with one final thrust, you both reached your peak, aegon not bothering to pull out as his cock spent itself inside you continuing his thrusts till he could no longer handle it falling flat on top of your sweaty form cock still sheathed inside your cunt you can hear his panting breathes beginning to even out and him began to drift away to slumber your about to protest and tell him he’s crushing you and he can’t sleep here when he scoops you up flipping you both over so your rested on top of him instead head placed right over his heart the soft beating lulling you away to. Just one moment like this wouldn’t be so bad you think to yourself just a minute and you’ll wake him up and tell him he has to go but for now you will enjoy the warmth of his body and the soothing rhythm of his heart beat lulling you to bed.

The soft hues of morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the lavish room. You slowly stirred awake, wrapped in the comfort of the sheets, a sense of bliss enveloping you as memories of the previous night flooded your mind. Aegon lay beside you, his face relaxed in peaceful slumber, the warmth of his body a comforting presence.

You couldn’t help but smile, feeling a mix of affection and excitement. Last night had been a whirlwind of passion and connection—something you hadn’t anticipated when you first saw him. Stretching slightly, you turned to him, admiring the way the morning light danced on his features. But as the reality sank in, urgency washed over you; you had to get Aegon out of here before anyone else in the brothel woke up. “Aegon!” you whispered urgently, gently shaking his shoulder. Before he could fully process your words, the door flung open with a loud bang, and an adorable little girl burst into the room. She had bright, tousled white hair and wide, lilac eyes that darted around, filled with a mix of anxiety and determination. “Mama!” she called, her voice filled with sweet yet panicked urgency. The sight of her jolted both you and Aegon wide awake. He shot upright, confusion etched on his face as he took in the scene before him. “Who is that?” Aegon asked, his voice laced with shock, turning from you to the little girl. You felt your heart race. “Anya, honey, what are you doing here?” you asked, trying to maintain a calm demeanor. “I woke up and couldn’t find you!” she said, her tone shifting as she caught sight of Aegon. “Who’s he, Mama?” Aegon’s brow furrowed as he took in Anya's features, realizing that she had the same bright white hair and lilac eyes as him . “Anya?” he murmured, a sense of recognition dawning on him as he thought out every possibility of who the girls father could be but Daemon hadn’t been to kings landing in Five years since jace’s wedding and this girl couldn’t be older then three, aemond was to preoccupied with his old bat to be fathering bastards and there was no way his father was visiting the street of silk in his declining health there was only one answer . “Is… is she mine?” You felt the weight of the unsaid truth crush you. “….Yes,” you confirmed, your voice barely above a whisper. “But this isn't the right time to discuss it. Aegon, you need to leave!” His expression shifted from shock to something deeper—fear mixed with a desperate need for understanding. “Leave? I can’t just leave without knowing the truth! Three years ago… that night—” he stumbled over his words, his hands clenching into fists, eyes wide with anxiety. “Is she really…? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Mama, why is he scared?” Anya asked innocently, her small hand gripping the edge of your dress, sensing the rising tension.

“Aegon,” you urged, feeling panic swell within you. “Please, I promise I’ll explain everything, but not here. She shouldn’t hear this right now.”

But Aegon wasn’t backing down. “I can’t just disappear, not when I might actually have a daughter. What if I never get to know her?”

Your mind raced, torn between the instinct to protect Anya and Aegon's desperate plea for answers. Anya looked up at Aegon, her bright eyes shining with curiosity. “You look like me!” she said, a huge grin spreading across her face. “You have my hair and eyes!”

Aegon knelt down, his expression softening as he glanced at her. “You’re right,” he said, the fear in his voice giving way to wonder. “You’re beautiful, just like your mama.”

A wave of emotions washed over you as you watched them together. The reality of this moment settled heavily in your chest. “Aegon, if you’re going to be in her life you have to do what best for her and right now isn’t the time to put this all on her give me a day or two to talk to her then you guys can meet properly” you say trying to give him something “ Alright he says two days I'll be back “ he says not looking away from your daughters face before trapping her in a hug you can see the tears in his eye as he grabs his cloak and shoes layed about the room so he can go not forgetting to leave you the sack of coin and all the rings on his hands before he leaves before you can protest he speaks “ For anything you and her need I'll be back i promise “ he goes to close the door and leave you before turning back around to speak once more “ Goodbye Anya it was a pleasure to meet “ you can here him holding back tears as he speaks only going when Anya waved him off with a toothy grin and a bye bye “ He was nice mama” Anya says when he’s finally gone you smile at her words coming down to her level to meet her bright lilac orbs “ Yes.. yes he was sweet girl now should we get something to break our fast “ you say reaching out for her little hand.

[nebulaafterdark]

can you write an aegon x niece!reader fic where they're childhood sweethearts but when viserys offers to betroth them both their mothers reject the proposal so when they find out about it they decide to run away to essos because they realize that their parents would never let them be together. they took some money and jewellery and their dragons settled in braavos and immediately get married and aegon only left behind a letter saying he would get married to her no matter what. he starts working as a baker while she works as a tailor and they're definitely not rich there but they manage to find comfort. 6-7 years later they've never communicated with their family but now they have their own businesses and finally have babies (their kids get dragon eggs!) but reader kinda misses her mom and wishes she could see her grandkids. aegon notices her sadness and while he definitely doesn't want to return to that hellhole he decides to take her and the kids back to see their family again. when they come back (rhaenyra is already queen bc viserys died of shock when he heard of what happened) the blacks are very hostile towards aegon bc they think he kidnapped and impregnated his niece. alicent is angry at him tok because he ruined the greens' reputation. rhaenyra is only sweet towards her daughter and her grandkids and wants to convince her daughter to divorce aegon but one day she sees them and their babies playing in the gardens and realizes how much they love each other so she apologizes to them for her hostile behaviour and asks them to stay in kings landing again because she stills considers her daughter as her heir ❤️

Why is this Aegon’s dream for real? He just wants a normal life with her…I’ll add it to the list 🥲

[novaursa]

Hey again! 😃 Ok, so I've got 4 requests for you (since now it's 1K words per person).

I was thinking of some "lost" scenes from that Alicent fic I requested, but this time it's about the Reader's bond with each of his children.

With Aegon - A scene in which R catches Aegon drunk after a night out, and pulls him aside to listen to his concerns about fulfilling his duties and being responsible in general. Reader remains understanding and tells Aegon that no matter how old he gets, he can always count on his help, but that he has to find his way on his own (Aegon looks more closely at his father and sets him as an example of how a prince/king should behave.

With Helaena - A scene in which Reader takes her to Essos for a trip to a jungle (idk if there exists jungles in Essos, but let's pretend they do) on a quest to find more exotic bugs. Should be fun and playful! Maybe R trips over a root and lands on his bum, and that's what makes his darling daughter laugh so much.

With Aemond - That one scene after he gets gifted with "The Pink Dread". The Reader comforts him and even dares to tell him that should he have had a pink(ish) dragon, that's the nickname that he would bestow upon it (think of how people would expect TPD to be some small creature - yes, like a pig - but no, it's a FRIGGIN' DRAGON! 😂😂😂). Also, R mentions how he sees a lot of himself in Aemond (particularly related to his own youth).

With Daeron - The scene where he visits him in Oldtown and where R goes all buddy-buddy with Gwayne (one of the only sane guys in HoTD, I swear). Daeron impresses R with his musical skills and takes him to see Tessarion (who is happy to play the part of a big puppy - like rolling around on its back and bearing its belly to get free scratches 😉).

Where Dragons Dare (Lost Chapters)

- Summary: Unrecorded moments with each of your children, that no Maester will ever write about.

- Paring: father!reader/targ!children (platonic)

- Note: Since this was regarding your previous request that was turned into three part series, I've made an exception for you. Enjoy. ❤️

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 3/3

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @literaturedog

You stride through the torchlit corridors of the Red Keep, the evening air heavy with the scent of incense and wine from the feast held in your honor. A king’s life is one of constant vigilance, not only for the realm but also for your own blood. The weight of your crown and responsibilities settles upon your shoulders, the unspoken burdens of the Iron Throne. It is a life you have come to accept. 

But not everyone does. 

The clink of armor catches your attention, and you hear a hushed voice speaking to one of the guards near the side entrance. You already know what you will find before you round the corner. Aegon—your eldest son, your heir—is once again trying to sneak into the keep after a night in the lower city. His form, slightly slouched, leaning against the doorway, makes it clear that his night's indulgences have taken their toll.

You sigh softly, but there is no malice in it. This is not the first time. It won’t be the last.

"Aegon," your voice, even and steady, cuts through the stillness of the night, causing your son to stiffen. He turns slowly, his eyes glassy, yet there is a flicker of recognition. His silver hair, unkempt, falls into his face as he gives you a sheepish smile, one that reminds you so much of his mother when she tries to conceal her worries. 

"Father," he mumbles, straightening himself as much as his state will allow. He’s a prince of the blood, but in this moment, he looks like nothing more than a wayward boy caught in the act.

"Walk with me," you say simply, motioning for him to follow. There's no need for a reprimand, not yet. You both know where this conversation is headed. You step into the open air, out onto one of the quieter terraces that overlook the city below.

Aegon follows, his steps slightly uneven, but he doesn't protest. The two of you stand there for a moment, the distant sounds of King's Landing below humming in the background. The city never truly sleeps, much like a king’s responsibilities. 

After a while, you glance at him from the corner of your eye. "You’ve been out drinking again."

Aegon leans on the stone balustrade, staring at the lights flickering in the darkness. "It’s not like anyone missed me," he mutters, his voice heavy with bitterness. "I’m no good at all this. What does it matter?"

"It matters because you’re the future king," you reply, your tone calm but firm. "Your actions don’t only reflect on yourself; they reflect on the crown, on our family."

At this, Aegon snorts softly, his lip curling into a sardonic smile. "Aegon the Unready, that’s what they’ll call me," he mutters, almost to himself. "They all expect me to be like you. I’ll never be that. I can barely stand the weight of their stares, let alone a crown."

There is silence for a moment, broken only by the distant sounds of the city below. The firelight dances across the sharp planes of your son’s face, making him seem older than he is, and yet still so young. You can see the weight of expectation, the fear of failure, all of it etched into his features. 

You step closer, resting a hand on his shoulder, the familiar comfort of a father’s touch. "I wasn’t always certain either," you admit, the words carrying the weight of your own journey to the throne. "When I was young, I doubted myself just as you do now."

Aegon looks at you, surprise flickering in his eyes. It’s rare for you to speak of your own vulnerabilities. You are the king—stoic, dutiful, unwavering. But tonight, you let that mask slip, if only for your son.

"You don’t need to be me," you say quietly. "You need to find your own way. Being king isn’t about perfection. It’s about responsibility, about understanding that you carry the hopes and fears of an entire realm on your shoulders. And yes, sometimes it’s heavy. But that’s why we’re here—to bear it, so others don’t have to."

Aegon’s gaze falls to the ground, his fingers tapping nervously against the stone railing. "I’m not sure I can," he admits after a long silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don’t want to fail you."

Your heart clenches at the vulnerability in his words, the rawness of his fear. You step closer, turning to face him fully. "You won’t," you say firmly. "Not as long as you’re willing to try. You will make mistakes, we all do, but that’s part of the journey. You don’t have to do it alone. I’m here, Aegon, always."

His eyes meet yours, and for the first time in a long while, you see not just the rebellion, not just the stubbornness, but the uncertainty and the longing for approval. He is so much like you were at his age, fighting against the very things that would one day define him.

"You’ve always been there for me," he says, his voice softer now, more introspective. "I just…I don’t want to be a disappointment."

"You’re not," you reply, without hesitation. "And you never will be. You will grow into this role, just as I did, just as many before us have. But it takes time. You will find your way, but you must be willing to take the first steps. Recklessness won’t serve you well when you sit on the throne."

Aegon nods, swallowing hard. He’s listening now, really listening. You can feel the shift in him, the internal battle as he begins to process your words. His posture relaxes just slightly, and he looks at you with a newfound respect.

"I look at you," he says quietly, "and I see what a king should be. You always know what to do. How did you learn?"

You smile faintly, the memories of your own trials and lessons flickering in your mind. "By making mistakes. By learning from them. And by trusting in those who love me. You’ll learn too, Aegon. But you have to start by taking responsibility for your actions. If you want to be a good king, you have to be a good man first."

He nods again, more resolutely this time. There’s still doubt in his eyes, but also something else—a spark of determination, a glimmer of hope.

"I’ll try," he says, the words holding more weight than any drunken apology ever could.

"I know you will," you reply, squeezing his shoulder one last time before stepping back. "But for now, let’s get you to bed. You can begin to prove yourself tomorrow."

As you guide your son back into the castle, you feel the familiar pull of duty and love intertwine within you. The road ahead will not be easy for Aegon, just as it wasn’t easy for you. But tonight, at least, a small part of that path has been cleared, and your son—your heir—is beginning to take his first steps toward the man he will one day become.

The warm, humid air of the jungle clings to your skin as you lead Helaena through the dense foliage, her excitement as palpable as the buzz of insects that fills the air around you. She’s always been different from her siblings—quiet, introspective, but with a mind that sees wonders where others see only the mundane. Today, her joy is infectious, and as you glance over your shoulder, you see her eyes wide with fascination, darting from tree to tree in search of her beloved bugs.

"Father, look!" she exclaims, her voice bright with enthusiasm. She crouches down, her slender fingers delicately picking up a beetle with iridescent wings, the colors shifting from emerald to sapphire in the dappled sunlight that pierces through the canopy above.

You smile at her, marveling at how her joy lights up the whole forest, making even the most alien surroundings feel like home. "That’s a beautiful one," you say, stepping closer to inspect her latest find. "What do you suppose it eats?"

Helaena tilts her head, her eyes narrowing in concentration as she watches the beetle crawl over her hand. "I think it feeds on nectar from the flowers," she muses, "or maybe the sap from the trees. Look at the way its legs move—so delicate, but strong."

You crouch beside her, nodding as you study the small creature. "You could be right. You always know more about these things than I do." Your tone is light, teasing, but there’s truth in your words. Helaena’s understanding of the natural world has always been beyond her years, her connection to it deep and mysterious.

The two of you continue your journey deeper into the jungle, the air growing thicker with the scent of damp earth and blooming flowers. Vines drape lazily from towering trees, and the occasional call of a bird echoes in the distance. Helaena moves with purpose, her gaze constantly scanning the ground, the trees, the air above for any new creatures she hasn’t yet discovered.

"Do you think there are bugs in Essos that no one in Westeros has ever seen?" she asks suddenly, her voice filled with a childlike wonder that makes you smile.

"I’m sure of it," you reply, pushing aside a low-hanging branch to let her pass. "That’s why we came here, isn’t it? To find something new, something no one’s ever written about in their tomes or sung about in their songs. Maybe you’ll discover the most magnificent bug the world’s ever seen."

Helaena beams up at you, her lavender eyes shimmering with excitement. "And I’ll name it after you," she says with a giggle, skipping ahead a few paces. "A beetle, maybe, or a butterfly—something regal."

You chuckle at the thought, shaking your head. "I can’t think of anything less regal than a bug named after me. But if anyone could make it sound important, it’s you."

The laughter between the two of you echoes through the trees, light and easy, as you continue on your way. You’re not following any particular path—there are no roads here, no guides to lead you. Just the two of you, father and daughter, on an adventure through the wilds of Essos.

As you step over a moss-covered log, you glance back at Helaena to see her crouching low again, examining a cluster of bright red flowers. Her fascination with the natural world has always been a source of pride for you, something that sets her apart in a family so often consumed by politics and power. Out here, in the quiet of the jungle, she’s in her element.

You’re so focused on her that you don’t notice the thick root winding through the underbrush until it’s too late. Your foot catches, and before you can catch yourself, you’re tumbling forward, arms flailing as you lose your balance. You hit the ground with a soft thud, landing squarely on your backside.

For a moment, there’s silence. Then—

Helaena bursts into laughter, the sound bright and musical, like the ringing of silver bells. She clutches her sides, doubling over as the laughter shakes her small frame, tears forming at the corners of her eyes.

"Father!" she manages to gasp between fits of giggles. "You—you tripped on a root!"

You sit there for a moment, stunned, before letting out a laugh of your own. "Apparently, your father is no match for a jungle root," you say, shaking your head as you sit up, brushing leaves from your clothes. "I was so busy watching you, I forgot to watch where I was going."

Helaena, still laughing, steps over to you and offers a hand, her grin wide and infectious. "Here, let me help you up, Father. You’ve fallen in the dirt like one of your regal bugs."

You take her hand, letting her pull you to your feet, though it’s more symbolic than anything—she’s small and slender, and you mostly stand up on your own. Still, the gesture warms your heart, and you smile down at her.

"I suppose even kings can fall every now and then," you say, brushing off the last of the dirt from your breeches. "Especially when they’re distracted by a daughter who’s far too clever for her own good."

Helaena’s laughter finally subsides, though her smile remains, bright and full of affection. "I’m just glad I was here to see it," she says, her voice teasing but sweet. "I’ll have to remember this next time Aegon or Aemond try to act all serious."

You raise an eyebrow at her, unable to stop the grin spreading across your face. "Oh? Are you planning on using this against me?"

She shrugs, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Maybe. It depends on how much I need to bargain with them next time."

The two of you share another laugh, and the moment feels light, easy—like the weight of the crown and the responsibilities you both bear have been left far behind in Westeros, forgotten in the simplicity of a jungle trek and shared laughter.

As you continue walking, you let Helaena lead, her steps more confident now as she moves through the underbrush. The jungle is alive with sound—chirping insects, rustling leaves, the distant calls of unseen animals—and you find yourself marveling at how small and vast the world can feel all at once.

"Father," Helaena says after a while, her tone more thoughtful now, "thank you for bringing me here. I know there are more important things you could be doing back home, but…this means a lot to me."

You smile at her, feeling a swell of pride and affection. "There’s nothing more important than spending time with you, Helaena. The realm can wait a few days. Besides, I think we’ve both learned something valuable today—like how to avoid tree roots."

She giggles again, but there’s warmth in her eyes, the kind of warmth that makes you realize just how precious these moments are. The crown may be heavy, the throne demanding, but here, in the jungles of Essos, it’s just you and your daughter, sharing an adventure neither of you will ever forget.

"Now," you say, clapping your hands together as you glance around at the trees towering above, "shall we see what other exotic bugs we can find? Maybe one that doesn’t involve me falling on my backside this time?"

Helaena grins, her face lighting up with renewed excitement. "Let’s!" she says, darting ahead into the greenery, her laughter trailing behind her as you follow, ready for whatever adventure lies ahead.

The halls of the Red Keep seemed quieter than usual today. It was a rare stillness, the kind that hung heavy with unspoken tension. You could sense something had happened, though no one had yet brought it to your attention. You had spent much of the afternoon in the library, pouring over old maps of the Narrow Sea, but something in the air felt wrong.

As you rounded the corner toward the private wing where your children’s chambers lay, you heard faint sniffling. The sound was quiet, but unmistakable. You quickened your pace and followed the sound until you found Aemond, sitting alone on the cold stone floor, his knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. His face was buried, but even from this distance, you could tell he had been crying.

"Aemond?" you called softly, kneeling beside him. "What’s happened?"

Aemond looked up at you, and your heart sank at the sight of his tear-streaked face. His usual stern, stoic expression was gone, replaced by vulnerability, the kind only a young boy trying so hard to be a man could wear.

"It’s nothing, Father," he muttered, wiping furiously at his eyes, though the gesture did little to hide the redness.

You sit beside him, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Something has upset you, and I would like to know what it is."

For a moment, Aemond says nothing, as if weighing whether or not to burden you with whatever weighs on him. But eventually, his resolve crumbles, and he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper. "It’s them. Jace, Luke...and Aegon. They—they played a trick on me."

You feel a tightening in your chest. You had heard rumblings before of the teasing that occasionally happened between your sons and your sister Rhaenyra’s sons, but this felt different. There was something more painful in Aemond’s voice.

"What kind of trick?" you ask gently, though you already have a sinking suspicion about what might have occurred.

Aemond’s cheeks flush with shame as he looks away. "They—they told me they had a dragon for me," he begins slowly, each word weighed with embarrassment. "I’ve always wanted one, and I thought… maybe this time…"

His voice trails off, and you feel your heart break for him. You know how much Aemond has longed for a dragon of his own, how he watches his siblings and cousins with their dragons, envy and longing etched into his every glance. 

"They said it was waiting for me," he continues, his voice shaking. "So I went to the dragon pit. I was so excited, Father. I thought—maybe, finally—" His breath hitches as fresh tears well in his eyes, but he quickly wipes them away, trying to be strong.

"And then I saw it," he says bitterly. "A pig. They dressed up a pig and called it the 'Pink Dread.' They were all laughing, all of them, even Aegon."

A cold anger flares in your chest at the cruelty of the prank. You can picture it all too easily: Aegon and the boys snickering behind Aemond’s back as he approached the animal, thinking, for one precious moment, that his dream had finally come true. You know how deeply this would have cut Aemond, how much it hurt him to be humiliated in front of his family. But for now, you push that anger aside. This moment is about Aemond, not them.

"Come here," you say softly, pulling Aemond into your arms. He resists at first, too proud to cry in front of you, but after a moment, he lets himself lean into you, his small frame trembling as he clutches at your tunic.

You stroke his hair, the familiar silver strands soft beneath your fingers. "I’m sorry that happened to you, Aemond," you whisper, your voice full of warmth and understanding. "That was cruel, and you didn’t deserve it."

He pulls back slightly, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "They all have dragons," he says, his voice thick with frustration. "Why not me? Why am I the only one without one?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of his question. "Sometimes, life doesn’t seem fair," you say honestly. "It can feel like the things we want most are the things we’re denied, no matter how hard we wish for them."

Aemond looks up at you, his eyes still glistening with unshed tears. "But one day, Aemond," you continue, your voice full of quiet conviction, "you will have a dragon of your own. I know it. And when you do, you’ll be a better rider than any of them, because you’ve waited. You’ve longed for it. That’s something they’ll never understand."

He listens intently, his shoulders relaxing slightly as your words settle in. "And you know," you add with a smile, "if you ever did have a dragon that was pink, you could give it a name far more fitting than they ever imagined."

Aemond blinks at you, confusion flickering across his face. "What do you mean?"

You lean in conspiratorially, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "Think about it. A pink dragon, breathing fire, soaring over the battlefield. No one would laugh then. And you could call it the 'Pink Dread'—a name that would strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. They would hear it and tremble, knowing what it meant."

For the first time, a small smile pulls at Aemond’s lips. The idea takes root in his mind, and you can see his imagination sparking to life. "The Pink Dread," he murmurs, as if testing the words. "That… that would be funny. No one would laugh at a pink dragon breathing fire."

You nod, your heart warming at the sight of his growing confidence. "Exactly. They may laugh now, but one day, you’ll be the one laughing."

Aemond looks up at you, his blue eyes searching yours, and for a moment, you see a younger version of yourself reflected in him. The same yearning, the same fierce determination to prove oneself, the same frustration at being left behind while others surged ahead. You had been that boy once, trying to find your place, trying to prove you were worthy.

"I see a lot of myself in you, Aemond," you say softly, your voice filled with quiet pride. "When I was your age, I often felt the same way. I watched others get what I longed for, and it made me feel… less. But it didn’t stay that way forever. And it won’t for you either."

Aemond frowns slightly, looking down at the ground. "You were like me?"

You chuckle softly, ruffling his hair. "More than you might think. I wasn’t always so sure of myself. It takes time, but you’ll find your way, Aemond. You’ll grow into your own, just like I did. And when you do, there will be no one more capable than you."

Aemond’s small smile widens slightly, the last traces of tears fading from his eyes. "I’ll remember that, Father," he says, a quiet strength returning to his voice.

You wrap your arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. "You are strong, Aemond. Stronger than you know. And one day, the world will see that too."

As you sit there with him, the warmth of the Red Keep surrounding you both, you know that the sting of today’s prank will fade, but the lessons Aemond is learning now—about resilience, about strength, about finding his place in the world—will shape him into the man he will one day become. And you will be there, guiding him, as he grows into the prince, and the dragonrider, you know he is destined to be.

It had been far too long since you’d visited Oldtown, and the excitement of seeing Daeron again filled you with anticipation. His letters had spoken highly of his time here, his training, and how much he had grown, but there was nothing quite like seeing it for yourself.

The familiar scent of saltwater from the Whispering Sound mixed with the spices and perfumes of the bustling city as you made your way through its cobbled streets. Your memories of Oldtown were filled with childhood games, racing through the alleyways, and the company of old friends. One of those friends, you knew, was waiting for you just inside the Hightower.

As you passed through the gates, you saw him: Gwayne Hightower, your childhood companion and steadfast friend. He stood tall, wearing the colors of House Hightower, a broad smile spreading across his face as he caught sight of you.

"Your Grace!" Gwayne called out, his arms open in welcome as he walked toward you with the easy confidence that only an old friend could have. "I was wondering when we’d see you again."

You smiled broadly, clasping his forearm in a firm handshake before pulling him into a warm embrace. "Gwayne, it’s been far too long," you said, clapping him on the back before stepping back to look at him. "You haven’t changed a bit."

Gwayne chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Well, I could say the same of you, but we both know a crown has its way of changing a man."

You smirked, shaking your head. "Perhaps, but Oldtown doesn’t. It feels like I’m stepping back into my youth."

"And that’s just what Daeron’s been waiting for," Gwayne said, his voice filled with pride. "He’s been practicing something special for your arrival."

The two of you made your way into the Hightower, exchanging stories of the years gone by. Gwayne filled you in on Daeron’s progress, not only in his studies but in his musical pursuits, something that had come as a surprise to you when you’d first heard of it. Daeron had always been a quiet boy, thoughtful and dutiful, but you hadn’t expected him to take to music with such dedication.

As you entered one of the private chambers, there he was—Daeron, your youngest son, sitting with a lute in his hands. His bright eyes lit up when he saw you, and he quickly set the instrument aside to rise and bow.

"Father," he said, his voice filled with genuine warmth. "I’m so glad you’re here."

You smiled, stepping forward to pull him into a quick embrace. "It’s good to see you, Daeron. I’ve been looking forward to this visit."

Daeron stepped back, a hint of shyness in his expression, but there was also pride. "I’ve been practicing," he said, gesturing to the harp behind him. "Would you like to hear?"

"Of course," you said, sitting down as Gwayne settled in beside you, both of you eager to see how much Daeron had improved.

Daeron returned to his seat, his fingers brushing the strings of the lute with ease. The melody that filled the room was soft at first, delicate and sweet, but soon it grew into something more complex, full of emotion and depth. His fingers moved skillfully, the notes flowing effortlessly across from the lute, creating a sound that was both soothing and captivating.

You watched him closely, impressed by the concentration and passion in his playing. He had grown so much, not just in skill, but in confidence. When he finished, the last note lingering in the air, you clapped your hands together, beaming with pride.

"That was beautiful, Daeron," you said earnestly. "You’ve improved so much. I never knew you had such a talent."

Daeron blushed slightly but smiled, pleased with your approval. "Thank you, Father. I’ve been practicing every day. It helps me focus."

Gwayne leaned over, grinning. "He’s the pride of Oldtown, your Grace. Everyone speaks of his music as much as his dragon."

At the mention of Tessarion, Daeron’s eyes brightened even more. "Speaking of which, would you like to see her?"

"I wouldn’t miss it," you said, standing and motioning for him to lead the way.

The three of you made your way through the halls of the Hightower and out toward the dragon stable where Tessarion was kept. As you walked, Daeron talked animatedly about his time in Oldtown, how much he had learned, and how attached he had become to his dragon. You could hear the excitement in his voice, and it warmed your heart to see him so full of life and purpose.

When you reached the stable, you were greeted by the sight of Tessarion, her blue and silver scales gleaming in the soft light of dusk. She was still small by dragon standards, no larger than a large horse, but she had a regal air about her. However, that air of regalness disappeared the moment she saw Daeron.

With an excited rumble, Tessarion bounded toward him, her wings fluttering slightly as she lowered her head and rolled onto her back, exposing her soft underbelly in a clear plea for scratches. You couldn’t help but laugh at the sight—this mighty dragon, one day destined to be a force to be reckoned with, now behaving more like a playful pup than a creature of legend.

Daeron laughed too, kneeling beside her and rubbing her belly with both hands, her tail thumping happily against the ground.

"She’s just like a dog!" you exclaimed, amusement bubbling in your chest.

"She likes to be scratched here," Daeron said, his voice full of affection as he rubbed Tessarion’s side. "She’s still young, but she’ll grow big and strong. One day, she’ll be the fiercest dragon in all the realm."

"That, I have no doubt," you replied, watching as Tessarion nuzzled into Daeron’s hand, her eyes half-closed in contentment.

You knelt beside Daeron, reaching out to touch Tessarion’s shimmering scales. Her hide was warm under your palm, her breathing slow and steady as she basked in the affection. "She’s a beauty, Daeron. You should be proud."

"I am," Daeron said quietly, glancing at you. "She’s my closest friend."

There was something in his voice, a depth of connection between boy and dragon that was rare and powerful. You had seen it with your other children and their dragons, but with Daeron and Tessarion, it felt different. There was a quiet understanding between them, a bond that ran deep.

You smiled at him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "She’ll be a great dragon, Daeron, and you’ll be a great rider. Tessarion’s lucky to have you."

"And I’m lucky to have her," Daeron replied, his hand never leaving her side.

For a while, the three of you sat there in the dragonpit, Tessarion’s soft rumbles the only sound in the still evening air. The world seemed far away, the troubles of the realm forgotten in the warmth of family and the comfort of an old friend.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting Oldtown in shades of gold and pink, you looked at Daeron, filled with pride at the man he was becoming. He had found his place here, among his studies, his music, and his dragon. He had grown into himself, and you couldn’t wait to see what the future held for him.

"Thank you for bringing me here," you said quietly, your voice filled with affection. "I’ve missed this. I’ve missed you."

Daeron smiled, his eyes filled with warmth. "I’ve missed you too, Father. I’m glad you’re here."

And as Tessarion rolled over onto her side, thumping her tail against the ground with contentment, you realized that moments like this—simple, peaceful moments with your children—were worth more than any crown or throne.

[i-got-da-rubes]

I COMMISSIONED @less-depresso-more-espresso FOR FUTURE TIMELINE ART OF MY FIC INDETERMINISM!‼️!! You should read it and also follow them.

Characters featured: Pigtails(Venus), El, and CJ.

It’s been like three months since I got it which. My bad.

THANK YOU ESSO ILY I LOVE IT