#female!daeron au

[lemonhemlock]

Tbfh if aemond or daeron were born a girl i don't think alicent would betroth any of them to rhaenyra's sons for the same damn reason she didn't sign off on the jacelaena marriage. like when i see these female aegon, female aemond, fem daeron AUs and it pairs them with one of the stronglaryon boys to "fix" the Dance or whatever i just facepalm. Im sorry but if aemond was a girl you bet your ass alicent would've turned around and married her to daeron or a lord from one of those nice Reach houses (but most likely daeron b/c otto would advise her not to give away a targ princess with The Biggest Fucking Dragon in the world so they don't create another faction of dragon riders like rhaenys did when she married into the velaryons) before even considering handing her over to one of the Stronglaryon boys. The first and only time i was willing to consider it was when an author used it as a plot point to show how shitty of a dad viserys was lmfao ('twas an au fic where luke gouged out fem aemond's eye and as an "apology" viserys forced luke and fem aemond into a betrothal jsjsjsjjsj)

Btw This isn't directed at you or anything you said, this is kinda just me venting lol sorry

oh anon i definitely agree with all your points, it will come at no surprise. :)) i have a couple of posts that might interest you in this regard here and here

i'm 100% with you on the dragons. fans seem to always leave dreamfyre out in their calculations when it comes to marriage alliances. but no way would the greens give up a large, female, egg-laying dragon to another house or a rival faction. like, it completely fucks with any attempt to marry helaena outside of the family and it would also still stand as an argument for any other daughter of alicent's. here is a scenario where all of alicent's children are daughters.

[presidenthades]

Modern AU HOTD Yule Fic

Title: Love Actually (Targaryen Version)

Word Count: 7100 (complete, oneshot)

Rating: M (for language and ribald humor, probably being overcautious)

Summary: The Targaryen clan is gathering for their annual Yule celebration. Daemon forgot to buy presents (again), Aegon and Jacaera are bringing the new baby, everyone’s hoping Aemond and Lucera don’t have sex in the closet (again), and Joff is hiding something (but what else is new?). Also, Cregan is coming as Baela’s date. This is his first time meeting her family, and he is absolutely, totally, 100% prepared for this.

Notes: Modern AU of the House Full of Daughters-verse. Rhaenyra is adopted so a lot of incest has been removed from the equation, but your mileage may vary. We’re mostly here to watch Daemon suffer.

[virgil-is-a-cutie]

Forgot Daeron exists so this is her 

TW Violence and Death

Daeranna Targaryan, the final daughter of the King Viserys and Queen Alicent Hightower who was sent to Oldtown when young when she was betrothed to a cousin so as to be a Lady Hightower. 

She had been shocked when her sister, Aegana usurped their older sister from the throne and she had tried escaping with her dragon because she knew she was a target since she was the Spawn of the Green Queen, she had tried her best to be in hiding, but a week before the war was over she was found by Team Black Supporters whom attacked her. 

Sadly she was away from her dragon and no one came to her rescue as she was beaten bloody and eventually killed by having her stabbed and cut open as the late Queen Aemma, the attackers proudly sent her body to be delivered to her mother.

The Team Black faction stood still and held no remorse as Dowager Queen Alicent’s screams could be heard around the castle when she was presented her youngest daughter’s body.

She had been brutalized so badly the Dowager Queen only knew it was Daeranna by the necklace she had given her before she had gone to Oldtown.

The only surviving daughter of the Hightower Queen was Helaena Targaryan and it was because she was wed to Daemon’s son was what kept her safe.

However, Helaena would not have any descendants as any children with her husband would not survive adulthood and she would die a few years later after the war and her husband would later marry another woman, whom would have descendants among Rhaenyra’s descendants.

[babyblue711]

Surrender

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

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

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The story continues in Part 3

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

[sapphiremusings]

THE GIFT OF VENGEANCE | aemond targaryen

summary: Aemond replayed this image on a loop, squirming in his seat every time he got to the part where her eyes popped out of her skull.

Two eyes for his one, and the eight years he went without his revenge.

8.5k

cw: female!lucerys velaryon, au-modern setting, explicit sexual content, dubcon, graphic depictions of violence, sadist!aemond, obsessive!aemond, dark!aemond, choking, p in v, oral sex (fem!receiving), blood kink, biting, mentions of childhood trauma, breeding kink, uncle/niece, kinda DD:DE? not that dead though… u might be able to eat…

He hears her first, that soft tittering which haunted his childhood, piercing straight into the marred socket of his left eye, down the monstrous scar she had left him with.

She sits behind him, planked between her brothers, the only daughter of his half-sister, and therefore the most beloved. Maybe Jacaerys had whispered a joke, his lips sticky against the shell of her ear, laughter bubbling up her throat at whatever inane quip he made. A part of him, the one that dominated his childhood, leaving him cowering along the sand and crying fat tears into his mothers skirts, thinks that maybe they’re whispering about him– their stoic, one-eyed uncle, whom they once taunted and teased as children. Her amusement echoes around the corners of his mind, running along every ridge of his spine and settling deep within him, into an endless pool of festering hatred.

It had been years since Aemond had seen his half-sister and her litter of bastards, but now that he has, he’s ready to never see them again. The rift between their families is slowly starting to mend, threads of green and black pulling together to stitch up the hole that was left after Laena’s funeral, and the taking of his eye. His mother, once reverent in her hatred for Rhaenyra, now holds onto her arm with a newfound longing, fingers rubbing circles along the long scar she had given her that same night, when she had demanded an eye for an eye. It was one of his fondest memories– Lucerys crying out in terror as Alicent rushed towards her holding a dagger, her darling face twisted in fear, hiding behind her mothers skirts. Even when his empty socket was throbbing with an intense pain that not even milk of the poppy could cure, he still relished in the sight.

His father had been slowly dying for years before he finally succumbed to his illness, something Aemond had anticipated every time he walked past his room, the sour stench of rot and sickness permeating through the shut doors, along with the constant beeping of medical machinery. The funeral had been just as droll as his last days, with Aegon slumped beside him, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, stinking of the bottle he had downed beforehand. Helaena was busy slouched over, peering down at the iridescent beetle that crawled around her fingers, muttering to herself, ignorant to the snorts Aegon would give and the shushing their mother hissed. And Daeron, the youngest of his siblings, was perched between mother and their grandfather, in which he had spent most of his childhood with, a good boy who listened steadfastly to the sermon. Behind him, the Velaryon siblings sat, from eldest to youngest, hands clasped together as they mourned in a way Aemond hadn’t.

Her presence seared into him, burning down to his bones, etching itself into the very marrow of him. The gods were feeling particularly cruel this day, and he listened to the sound of his niece’s sniffling, soft sobs leaving her lips in the place of the laughter he was once used to. He had wanted nothing more than to turn around, to peer upon her darling face, flushed a splotchy pink as tears streamed down her cheeks, the tip of her nose red and her brown eyes wide and watery, eyelashes clumped with tears. He imagined himself grabbing ahold of the chub of her cheeks, squashed beneath his fingers as he plunges his thumbs into her eye sockets, the white mush mixing with her crimson blood, a beautiful concoction made just for him. The thought dizzied him, and while speeches were given and prayers were sung, Aemond replayed this image on a loop, squirming in his seat every time he got to the part where her eyes popped out of her skull. Two eyes for his one, and the eight years he went without his revenge.

He remembers how those eyes, big and glimmering with a certain mischief, would peer at him with the curiosity of a doe, as if trying to figure out what made him tick. A brush of her fingers against the back of his hand, the warmth of her breath against his jaw, her gangly limbs stumbling over his own. These small tortures she’d inflict on him, only to turn and laugh in the wake of his trauma, when their older brothers would taunt and tease him incessantly. She’d trail after them, giggling at their antics with a small hand held over her mouth, the apples of her cheeks flushed red in mirth. He had hated her for it. Her ignorance hurt more than any push or shove Aegon or Jacaerys could bestow upon him.

“D’you think mum will notice if I leave?” Aegon slurs in his ear, spittle fanning across his jaw as he leans heavily against his shoulder, already in a drunken stupor. “She seems rather occupied, right?”

Aemond has to force himself not to sneer, eye twitching in annoyance as Aegon sways on his unsteady feet. His older brother has long been the family’s drunken embarrassment, but to see him act this way in front of their half-sister and her clan irritates him more than it usually would. Aegon’s beady eyes are glazed over, partly focused on their mother, who stands at Rhaenyra’s side like a leech, mouth twisted into a pitiful smile as she hangs onto every word that leaves the silver-haired bitch’s lips.

Aemond hums. “She’d notice eventually.”

He expects Aegon to stumble off, his clipped tone hinting to an end of the conversation, but instead, he chuckles. “Our little niece has grown into quite the woman, wouldn’t you say?”

The brothers watch as she chats with Daemon, their uncle and her stepfather, his towering figure dwarfing her smaller one. As Targaryen’s, hailed from Old Valyria and of an ancient bloodline, rumored to be connected to fantastical dragons, incestuous relations were once common within their family. After the turn of the century, their house which was once full of riches and immense power, halted in this practice. That is, until Rhaenyra whored herself out to her father’s brother at a young age. Despite this scandal, his half-sister steadily remained their father’s favorite, even after her marriage to Daemon and the birth of two sons.

“Come, brother. There’s no need to play shy,” Aegon snickers in Aemond’s silence, the alcoholic stench of his breath lingering under his nose. “We are Targaryen’s after all… surely you’ve thought about giving it to her. I know I have. Especially after the… incident.”

“I have no taste for such depravity.”

His brother groans, hand slipping off his shoulder as he wobbles off, unsatisfied with Aemond’s answer. Before he can leave, Aemond reaches out to stop him, leaning down to whisper in his ear. “You’re embarrassing us, lēkia.”

Aegon merely shrugs him off, stumbling over his feet as he walks out of the room, barely making it through the archway without tripping. The sight makes him grumble, jawbone tense as he grinds his teeth, returning his attention to the window, where a mess of dark curls now sits, face hidden from view. He has only glimpsed her once, when leaving the funeral, her eyes watery and nose tinted a shade of pink, tear tracks staining her cheeks. She had smiled at him. The image has been playing on a loop inside his head, a never ending reel of her pretty face and that ringing laugh, ever since he saw it.

Lucerys Velaryon has always been beautiful, he thinks. The features he has always hated in her brother– that stubby nose, the freckles along their cheeks, their dark hair and dark eyes– sneering down at him as he pushed him to the ground, were always devastating in her. As children, he had imagined she was the Maiden reincarnated, the most beautiful creature he’d ever laid eyes on, even when she’d laugh in his misery, carrying out her small tortures with every lingering look and every brush of her skin against his. After she took his eye, her face began to haunt him for different reasons, and his dreams of her becoming his bride turned into nightmares where her laugh would echo around his head while her blade cut into his flesh once again, this time taking his other eye as well. His hatred grew into a cruel thing, festering deep inside him until it started to rot through his bones, and every thought turned violent.

Rhaenyra would send their father pictures of her and her bastards, and he’d hang them around the house, in every hallway and on every fireplace mantle. Every year, they’d have a new picture, and as if to taunt him, Lucerys’ was always hung on the wall across from his bedroom door. He has always suspected Aegon of this pettiness, for his brother would often catch him glaring at the portrait from his doorway, eye tracing the curls of her hair and the curve of her jaw. Her eyes seemed to follow him as he walked, up until he would slam his door shut, locking her away from view. His hatred, still burning bright, had mixed with a different feeling that left a tight coil in his stomach, one which twisted more and more each time he saw that damned portrait.

Her face is etched along the inside of his eyelid, forced to see her every time he closes his eye. He has memorized every freckle, every curve and dip, even the milky scar that sits near her hairline from an accident when they were children, when Aegon had bumped into her, causing her to fall and hit her forehead against a jagged rock. The sight of her blood along the stones had nauseated him at the time, and so did her tears, fat as they dripped down her cheeks and into her wailing mouth. Now, he thinks he would quite like to see her blood again, to hear her cries as he inflicts the same pain she had once inflicted on him. His pants grow tighter at the thought, but he can’t find it in himself to be ashamed.

The air in the room grows thick, and he watches as Jacaerys stands above her, hand resting on the crown of her head, fingers slowly caressing the strands. She looks up with a small smile, eyes glowing in the midday sun that shines through the window next to her. His hands curl into fists, knuckles turning white as she laughs again, the sound ringing in his ears like a persistent bell. He quickly makes his way out of the stuffy room, shoulders tense as he passes by his mother and half-sister, neither of whom have looked away from one another since their reunion. The hallway is empty, and so is the looming staircase, which he climbs in stride, farther away from the center room and her lingering laugh. Beneath his eyepatch, his empty socket begins to throb, a searing pain shooting through the wound until his vision nearly goes white, and he’s left stumbling into his room, collapsing on the bed.

His curtains are still closed, shielding him away from the blazing sun, leaving his room dark with only slivers of light shining along the floor. He lays among rumpled sheets, tugging off the leather patch fastened around his head, bringing a shaky palm up to cover the aching hole. He is used to this pain, which plagues him more often than not, but within the presence of the one who created it, it seems to swell over him like a tidal wave. He barely hears the knock on his door, and when he doesn’t answer, a few seconds go by, until someone barges in.

Even in the dark he can still make out her wide eyes and the sheath of curls around her shoulders, her steps timid as she comes to a stop at the edge of his bed, fingers curled together in a nervous habit. “Are you alright, uncle?”

Her soft voice rouses him, his palm pressing deeper into his empty socket, while he looks up at her hovering figure. Her eyes dart over his face, lingering on his hand which covers his wound, and he wonders if she is remembering how he had covered his eye that night she had taken it, how he screamed and cried atop the sand, blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers, a perfect match to the blood dripping from the dagger in her small hands. When she quickly averts her gaze to a corner of his room, he feels a smug satisfaction rumbling in his chest.

“I… I’m sorry to bother you,” she murmurs, voice faltering slightly in his silence. “I was asked to come check on you.”

He hums. “By who?”

She’s quiet, eyes flicking back at him as if she is surprised by the sound of his voice. He merely stares back, palm growing sweaty in its position. Like a deer caught in headlights, her mouth opens and closes, before she finally speaks.

“Our mothers wish for our families to make amends. Given the death of Viserys.”

Aemond sits up at this, dropping his hand to his lap, stare hardening as her eyes dart to the now exposed scar, to the gaping hole where his eye once laid. She swallows, but makes no attempt to back away or close her eyes. Instead, Lucerys draws closer, head leaning over to get a better look at her work in the dim room. His stomach churns, fingers inching towards the eyepatch that sits beside him, yet he stops himself from grabbing it. No, he wants her to see what she did to him.

“You want to make amends?” he pushes, voice raspy from his dry throat. He sits up farther, leaning closer to her hovering frame. She nods. “And how do you plan on doing that, riñītsos?”

She looks at him in trepidation, lips tugging downwards and her brows furrowing above her dark eyes. The black dress she wears is short, hem stopping in the middle of her thighs, the material tight around her waist, and his eye snags on the motion of one of the straps falling off her shoulder, resting above a small freckle. She doesn’t seem to notice, or maybe she just doesn’t care, her stare not wavering as she makes no move to fix it. There’s a look in her eyes he’s never seen before, something gleaming and intoxicating, drawing him into a pool of soft velvet. He wants to hold them, those delicate globes, in his hands, feel the warm slime of them like two marbles.

In a quick motion, spurred on by his vivid imagination, he grabs ahold of her jaw, tugging her face close to his. “Will you take out your eye, hm? Give me what’s been owed all these years?”

Lucerys surprises him. Instead of falling back in fear, she merely smiles. It’s sardonic in nature, and he watches in trepidation as her eyes flicker down to rest upon his lips. So quick, he barely registers it, yet the action shocks a bolt of lightning down his spine, and his grip on her jaw tightens in a mix of dubiety and fury. Her smile only seems to grow wider at this, as if she is aware of every thought crossing his mind, nestling their way into the mush of his brain.

“Is that what you want, uncle? My eye?”

It is, he thinks. And so much more. He wasn’t lying when he told Aegon he has no taste for depravity, always the dutiful son despite what has befell him. Aemond tries hard to wash away his vengeful urges, the stirring of his cock when he imagines his little niece writhing in pain, covered in bruises and bleeding cuts, her eyes wide and tearful as she squeals like a piglet, under the might of his fists and his knife. His thoughts have only grown darker, crueler than he cared to admit, with flashes of his suckling on her open wounds like his mothers tit when he was a babe, warm blood resting along his tongue instead of milk. Nothing would taste as sweet, he was sure of it.

With a tug, Lucerys topples over him, her body plush against his own, and he quickly flips them over, his knees up against her ribcage. Her face is flushed from exertion, her hands scrambling against his chest and shoulders, legs kicking out from under him, though her efforts are in vain as Aemond merely tightens his grip around her. Stubbornly, her lips pursed into a sour smile, she stops her struggling and stares up at him in defiance.

“Go ahead then,” she goads, raising her chin and bringing her hands up to rest against his back, fingernails digging through his shirt and into his skin. He hopes they leave marks. “I won’t scream. I won’t fight. I refuse to give you the satisfaction of my pain, uncle.”

A deep, twisted rage sits within him, rising in plumes of smoke like the molten lava from an exploding volcano, and as he glares down at his sweet niece, the image of their homeland flashes across his vision. Their ancestors once lived on the island of Valyria, a prosperous place that had been home to the largest mount, which erupted and destroyed the land, as well as all those who resided there. A few Targaryen’s were lucky to escape just a few years before, and he thinks about this luck now, bringing a hand up to wrap around the width of Lucerys’ neck. She keeps her word; she doesn’t fight back, doesn’t try to scream, even as his fingers tighten enough to bruise, cutting off her air circulation. Tears gather at the corners of her eyes, and Aemond finds himself groaning, arousal splashing over him like ice water.

He removes his hand. Lucerys gasps for air, nails no longer digging into his skin, hands now limp around his waist. Her gaze looks down, chest heaving as she slightly tilts her head, focusing on Aemond’s lap. With a flush, he realizes she’s staring at his erection, which is pushing against his trousers, its heaviness resting against her abdomen. Her eyes glimmer at the sight, pink lips tugging upwards into another smug smile, hands inching towards his thighs that are still wrapped around her. When her fingers press against his thighs, he jolts back.

She sits up with a small laugh. “I thought you wanted to put out my eye, Aem.”

The nickname, one he hasn’t heard since they were children, running along the beach together, toes nestling along the sand, salty waves lapping against their ankles. It makes his chest twinge, an ache forming under his ribs, and he quickly turns away, resting his hands on the wooden surface of his desk. “Get out.”

It’s quiet, with only the sound of their families downstairs, chatting and laughing, which does nothing to help the tension of the room. He hears her sigh, short legs twisting beneath her as she climbs off his bed, shoes hitting the floor softly. She lingers at the door, hand resting on the doorknob while her eyes burn holes into his back, willing him to say something, but he doesn’t. He merely waits in silence, solemn in the dark corner of his room, among his books and journals. It’s only when he hears the door open and shut, and the sound of her footsteps retreating down the hallway and onto the stairs, does he sit back on his bed, lowering himself down to press his nose against the spot where she once laid, the scent of her still fresh on his sheets.

*

She’s taunting him, eyes avoiding his own one-eyed stare, dark hair fanning over her face every time she turns to speak to her brother, as if she’s hiding from him. As if she hadn’t smiled as he sat atop her, hands around her neck, a threat on the tip of his tongue. Now, she sits across from him, at the far end of the long dining table, nothing but wood and various dishes separating them.

Perhaps he should’ve taken her eye when he had the chance, he thinks. In the moment, he had doubted she wouldn’t have screamed. He knows the pain of losing an eye all too well, searing and bone-deep. Despite her promises, Lucerys Velaryon would’ve cried out the minute his blade touched her skin, and their families would have rushed into the room and stopped him in his act of revenge. No, if he was to take her eye, he needed to do so in a secluded place, where no one could interrupt him.

Helaena, sitting beside him, mumbles something, her hand feather-light against his own. He looks over at her, and she merely lifts out her other palm, showing him the fuzzy caterpillar that slowly moves along her skin. He can’t help but smile, though his sister doesn’t notice as she keeps her lilac gaze on the small critter she holds, moving her hand from him to run a finger gently down its spine. Next to her, Aegon snorts in his cup, taking another swig before leaning back in his chair, a slimy grin on his face.

“Have you given any more thought to what I said earlier, little brother?”

His words are slurred, and Aemond decides to ignore him, lifting his own cup to his lips and taking a sip. In the middle, his mother sits beside Rhaenyra, their heads bent towards one another, lips pulled into wistful smiles, as if they are old friends, or perhaps lovers. Daemon had gone home, taking their three youngest with him, as well as his twin daughters, leaving his niece-wife and her two eldest in the hands of the woman they both once despised.

Aegon, never one for taking hints, continues. “If you don’t want her, I’ll be happy to show our dear niece a good time. I have hopes she’ll be… pure.”

Clenching his jaw, Aemond finally looks over at his drunken brother, giving him the attention he seemingly craves. Aegon smirks, head tipped forward as he leans over Helaena, who is still too busy with her caterpillar. From the corner of his eye, he can see their mother looking over at her eldest son cautiously, though when Rhaenyra whispers something in her ear, she looks away.

Aemond opens his mouth to respond, but is interrupted by the sound of Lucerys’ laughter, and the breaking of glass. Him and Aegon advert their gazes to the opposite end of the table, where Jacaerys stands with reddened cheeks, holding the broken stem of a wine glass. Lucerys is hunched over, laughter bubbling out of her lips, tears dotting the corners of her eyes, reminding Aemond of when he had his hands around her throat only a few hours earlier. The thought makes him shift in his seat, a sliver of heat darting through his abdomen.

“Jace… oh my God,” she stutters out, still laughing, hand lifting up as she shows the table her palm, where a shard of glass sticks out, blood trickling down her wrist. Jace immediately darts forward, grabbing her arm, tilting her hand towards him so he can inspect the wound, eyebrows furrowed in worry. “It’s fine, brother. I’m okay!”

Rhaenyra also rounds the table, cradling her daughter's head against her chest, smoothing a hand down her curls. Lucerys continues to laugh, though it slowly starts to turn into giggles, which eventually die down until she’s left hiccupping, ruddy cheeks stained with tears from her outburst. His mother had run off, and now she returns, first aid kit in hand, which she gives to his half-sister, who puts her hand on Lucerys’ shoulder, pushing her to sit back in her chair. Aemond watches as her blood continues a path down her arm, before beginning to drip onto the surface of the table, leaving small dots of crimson.

She watches with watery eyes as her mother grabs a pair of tweezers, going for the glass jutting out her skin. “Shh, it’s okay, my darling girl.”

The shard is slowly pulled out, a bubbling of more blood rising to the surface, and Aemond watches with a hard cock. It’s placed on a napkin atop the table, next to the pool of blood that now seeps into the wood, yet no one moves to clean it up. Or maybe his mother does, her scabbed fingers wiping the liquid away with a cloth, always one for cleanliness. Aemond wouldn’t know, as his eye is trained on the cut along Lucerys’ palm, as her own mother tends to it. A wipe is swiped across, turning from white to red, and then comes the gauze, which is wrapped around continuously, until the blood ceases to seep through the material. The whole time, his little niece sits without flinching, eyes watching him as he watches her.

When she’s finished, the wound now covered, the room is quiet for just a moment, before a booming clap of thunder echoes against the walls, and the sound of pouring rain pings off the roof. Jace is on his knees beside his sister, hands holding her wrist, whispering apologies in her ear, ones which she doesn’t reply to as she continues to stare across the table. It isn’t until Jace follows her gaze that she replies, before picking up her fork and stabbing at a lone carrot that sits on her plate, bringing it up to her lips as she finally looks away, giving her older brother a smile.

Dinner continues as before, and by now, Aegon has slumped over his chair, fast asleep in his drunkenness. Their mother, surprisingly, pays him no mind, and neither does Helaena, who excuses herself to her room, eyes still focused on the crawling insect she holds. Rhaenyra continuously peeks over at Lucerys, face glossed in worry, but she merely listens to her brother talk, occasionally nodding her head or laughing softly at whatever it is he was droning on about. With nothing to distract him, Aemond is silent in his suffering as he watches her, eye flickering down to her wrapped palm every few minutes, as if willing it to peel off and show him that red slice once more.

The storm has gotten worse, lightning flashing through the closed windows nearly every second, the thunder becoming so loud that it interrupts his mother and half-sisters conversation, the both of them wondering aloud on whether it will pass or continue through the night. It is already dark out, the ticking clock reading nine o’clock, and it is his mother who proposes the idea.

“Please, Rhaenyra,” her fingers rub against her scar, eyes pleading. “Stay. It is too dangerous to leave now, in the dark while it’s storming so heavily. We have more than enough guest rooms for you, Luke, and Jace to stay in.”

His mothers use of Lucerys’ nickname jolts him. Beside him, Aegon lets out a snore.

Despite her wariness, Rhaenyra agrees to stay the night, and Aemond thinks he has never seen his mother so happy before. With a huff, he stands, and when his mother doesn’t even look at him, too busy staring at his whore half-sister with stars in her eyes, he takes that as his cue to leave. He glances over at Lucerys once more, both her and Jace now watching him, their matching eyes and noses making him want to sneer. Instead, he makes his way out of the dining room, his steps heavy as he trudges up the stairs, head throbbing in tune with the pattering rain.

*

He can barely sleep, his body restless as he tosses and turns among rumpled sheets, nose twitching against the scent of her that still lingers. Aemond swears he can feel her, even as she sleeps just down the hall, and his skin is slick with sweat, a pulse running through his swelling cock. He teases himself, brushing a hand between his thighs, coiling away when he only gets harder, silver hair sticking to his flushed face as he lays there with the heavy weight of shame bearing down on his chest. His only solace being the plip-plop of the rain against his window, the storm now passed, leaving only that soft sound in its wake, soothing along his headache.

Something wriggles beneath the skin of his chest, insistent as he sits up, looking around the dark room, a warning bell ringing within his ears. When he looks out the window, a flash of white crosses his vision, and for a moment, he thinks the storm has started again. It isn’t until he sees her curls, slightly damp and sticking to her shoulders, does he realize that it’s her, not the storm. She walks across the backyard, towards the small woods that sits behind their estate, clad in nothing but her nightgown. Without thinking, Aemond is slipping on a shirt and his shoes, his steps rushed as he sneaks down the stairs and out the backdoor, gaze trained on her retreating figure.

The rain is merely a drizzle now, yet it still dampens his clothes and hair, leaving raindrops along his skin, as he walks between trees, swiping at hanging branches and leaves, holding his breath as he stalks after her. She doesn’t seem to hear him, as she continues on, not faltering in her pace. The path she’s leading looks familiar to him, and he realizes that it’s the same path they used to trek as children. It leads to an old lake, full of tiny fish and swampy water, which they used to dare one another to jump in, all too afraid of what lurked below the muck. When they make it to the clearing, Lucerys doesn’t hesitate to walk up to the bank, standing along withered stones and tall weeds. The sight of the water stops Aemond in his tracks, a memory rushing to him like a vision.

It had been the hottest summer of their young lives that year, and they all spent it among the trees, lounging under the cool air the shade provided, playing trolls and goblins. When they had first discovered the lake, it was Aegon who pushed Aemond in. He had flailed within the dirty water, pale arms splashing through algae and brine as he gasped out for help, not yet knowing how to swim. Jace and Aegon had stood on the bank laughing, and to his horror, Lucerys had disappeared. It wasn’t until she rushed out from the trees, Uncle Daemon in tow, that Aemond was saved, laying along the grass and coughing up water and vomit, shivering under the stares of those around him, Daemon’s hand hard as it slapped his back. His mother had scolded Aegon, who swore he didn’t remember that his younger brother couldn’t swim, and he only became more cruel in his anger after she grounded him.

As he remembers the look on Lucerys’ young face, pinched in worry, cheeks flushed pink and bright eyes teary, he thinks perhaps he had just imagined that part. It was what he once dreamed most of; his niece caring for him. He knows this is far from the truth, as she spins around, arms held out in front of her, gaze locked on his lingering figure. Her lips curl into a sweet smile, and she wiggles her fingers, as if she is beckoning him over. Aemond finds that his rage has made another appearance, replacing his pondering with a rising fury as he makes his way towards her, swaying on her bare feet, her grin brighter than the full moon in the sky above them.

He reaches out for her, hands tight against her arms, and he watches with a curious gaze as her flesh pebbles beneath his touch, her damp skin dotted with raindrops and gooseflesh. Her head is heavy as she beams up at him, eyes hazy with sleep, her lashes fluttering under his stare. She whispers his name, lips plush around the word, dropping her head to rest against his thumping chest, nose nuzzling along the cotton of his shirt. For a moment, Aemond allows himself to revel in her warmth, his own nose resting within her hair, dark curls tickling his cheeks, and he inhales deeply, the smell of lavender and honey and rain intoxicating his senses. Lucerys presses herself closer, and as the minutes tick by, he realizes she has been sleepwalking.

Aemond has only heard tales about Lucerys’ supposed sleepwalking habit. Years ago, according to Rhaenyra, Lucerys had nearly walked out the top window in her room, her eyes open wide in an unwavering stare, bare feet pressed against the sill. It had taken Daemon picking her up and carrying her to her bed to get her to safety, and the next morning, when asked about what had happened the previous night, Lucerys hadn’t a clue what they were talking about. Daemon took to installing locks on all the windows around their home, and after that, Aemond hadn’t heard much else about his niece’s sleepwalking. He figured it was a thing of the past, something she has grown out of in the shedding of her adolescence.

Now, she stands slumped against his chest, breathing steady and her lips parted as soft sighs and snores escape her throat. The rain picks up, drizzling harder than before, and a rumbling of thunder is heard along the horizon, yet Lucerys looks peaceful in her slumber, even as Aemond’s grip on her becomes tighter. A twisted part of him thinks about how easy it would be to hurt her now, as she lays in the mercy of his hands, the same in which once easily wrapped around her throat and squeezed until her face was red. Another part of him, one much darker and persistent, wishes to slip the thin straps of her nightgown down her shoulders, to suckle on her pert nipples which press against the sheer satin, to dip a hand between her supple thighs and caress the hottest part of her.

Her neck is bare, and as he looks down, he realizes with sudden certainty that there is no one here to stop him. The moon is aglow, locusts buzzing within the grass, an occasional hoot from a lone owl, and they are in the middle of the woods, in a place unknown by anyone but them as children. She is pliant within his hold, lashes resting against her cheeks, heartbeat steady within her delicate chest. It is something he had once dreamed of, swathed in sweat-soaked sheets, cock spent along his taut stomach. And with a single dip of his chin, he is able to press his lips along the skin of her neck, right below her thrumming pulse.

She doesn’t stir, not even as his lips form a path down to her collarbones, the bones jutting out just enough for him to bite around, the feel of it between his teeth making him groan. His tongue slicks against the mark, dipping into each indent, before making its way up to her jaw, where he nibbles and sucks on the skin. His hands have moved to rest upon her hips, but as she starts to slip from his grasp, he wraps his arms around her waist, pressing her close to him once more, her breasts plush against his soaked shirt, nipples scratching between them.

He barely hears the gasp. “A-Aemond…?”

Her hands come up to his shoulders, pushing frantically as he bites down on the skin of her jaw, the sharp ache making her yelp. When he tastes blood, he finally softens, lips now wrapped around the skin, tongue lapping over the small wound. As Lucerys continues to squirm, fingernails now digging into his skin, he wrestles her to the ground, hands squelching in the mud beneath her as he holds himself above her, lips stained with a single drop of blood.

“Where are we? How did…” she trails off, realization clicking as she takes in the dark sky and the pajamas she still wears. Her eyes are glossy as she gazes up at him, the mark on her jaw shining like a beacon, encouraging him to press himself against her again. This time, she doesn’t struggle, still confused as she looks around the clearing, catching sight of the familiar lake.

His cock is pulsating as it rests between them, and he barely notices as he cants his hips to rub along her clothed cunt, white-hot pleasure shooting up his spine, making him close his eye and press his lips to her throat once again. Her breath hitches at his movements, her own legs unconsciously spreading wider, opening herself up for him to rut against her like a hound in heat. Shame twinges within his brain, yet Lucerys wraps an arm around his back, as if encouraging his ministrations, and he forces it to the back of his mind as he digs his fingers into the slick mud, hips rocking faster. She whines out, “Aem.”

In a frenzy, he brings a hand up to paw at her dress, tugging down the straps until he bares her breasts, mud staining the fabric and her skin. His lips are quick to wrap around them, going back and forth between the two, before slipping a pert nipple into his mouth, groaning at the taste of her. He imagines them swollen with milk, her stomach round with his child, her hands smoothing down his hair as he nurses from her, her sweet liquid warm as it pools in the pit of him. He grows harder at the thought, teeth nibbling at the bud, his body weight crashing atop her as he brings his other hand over to caress her other breast, fingers tweaking the lonely nipple. Her back seems to arch beneath him, her own hips matching the rhythm of his, her breath hot against his head.

“Please,” she whispers, tugging at the strands of his hair. When her pulling becomes harsher, he allows her to tug him up, her mouth agape as she tilts her chin, searching for his lips. She kisses him, wanton as she juts out her hips against his, hands frantic as they run down his shoulders and under his soaked shirt, nails scratching along his skin. Her tongue slips over his, and he thinks she tastes like the sweetest poison, of cherries and arsenic.

He pushes himself up once more, knees digging into the earth beneath him, and he doesn’t think as he rips off her dress, pulling it down her legs in one swipe. Her underwear is purple, a pretty shade of lilac that reminds him of his own eye, with a little rose in the middle, now stained with mud and grass as she writhes, trying to hide the patch of wetness that seeps through the dainty fabric. Aemond is quick to lean down, pressing his nose against her navel, the smell of rain and sleep tainting her flesh, and he gives her a small lick, from her belly button to the hem of her underwear. She whines, bare chest heaving as she looks down at him, eyes pleading underneath a cloud of wariness, brows furrowed as if she is fighting a battle within her mind. When he comes face to face with her clothed cunt, he doesn’t hesitate to press his tongue against the spot of her arousal, the cotton soft along his tongue as he laps at it, trying to taste her slickness.

“Iksan jāre naejot qogralbar ao,” he grits out over the rain, his cock aching as he lays flat against it, head still between her thighs. “Yn jaelan naejot sylutegon ao ēlī.” (I am going to fuck you. But I want to taste you first).

He doesn’t ponder over whether she knows High Valyrian, the language of their ancestors, but when she lets out a moan, her head nodding against the ground, a sense of pride settles within him. He pulls the last remaining piece of clothing off, bringing his hands to her thighs, which he pushes up so that her knees are pressed against her chest, leaving her wide open for him. A groan leaves him at the sight of her wet cunt, and when he lays his tongue flat against her pearl, he nearly creams his pajama pants at the pulsing of her and the taste of her arousal. Like a man starved, his tongue laps over the whole of her, licking and sucking as she writhes and moans, a flush starting from her chest to her hairline washing over her like a veil. His hips grind into the earth below him, his eye focused on her wet face, strands of her dark hair stuck to her cheeks and across her gaping lips. He thinks she might look even prettier like this than when she cries.

She’s wanton in her moans, head lolling back and forth, eyes squeezed shut as Aemond presses a finger into her wet cavern, his own eye fluttering shut at the tightness, a ring of soft muscles clenching down. His tongue focuses on her pearl, which throbs as he flicks and presses against it, engorged in its pleasure, and as he crooks a finger up inside her, her hips buck up in a spasm, though the grip he has on her legs, which still press up to her chest, stops her from moving. A loud whimper leaves her lips, and her peak comes quickly, her arousal gushing around his finger. When she finally calms down, going slack under him, he pulls his finger out and immediately licks her cream off it, before going back in to clean up her now sensitive cunt.

Her fingers tangle within his hair, tugging to pull him off her as she wriggles under his licks, and when he finally pulls away, her grip is strong as she whines before he gives in and rests his weight above her, lips hovering her own. Her tongue comes out to lap at them, small kitten licks that grow more greedy, until she’s slipping between them and pressing him close to her. She groans, perhaps at the taste of herself on his tongue, her hips already jutting back up against him, brushing over his aching cock, desperate for more like his own ravenous whore. His hands are quick as they push down his muddied pants, cock springing up against his soaked abdomen, bringing the head to rub along the seam of her. Lucerys seems to tense under him at the feeling, but he pays no mind as he presses the tip against her tight hole, still slick and warm even after her peak.

“Aem-“ she gasps out, hands against his shoulders, eyes wide in fear at the feeling of his cock pressing into her. “I…”

He slams his hips flush against her with a grunt, a yelp escaping her quivering mouth, fingernails digging deep into the cotton of his shirt. Tears immediately start to stream down her flushed cheeks in rivulets, soft sobs building up within her closed throat. Aemond has never felt such dizzying pleasure, white hot and shooting through every nerve in his body, until he feels like he’s aflame. He doesn’t falter as Lucerys cries, his pace fast and deep, pulling out until just the tip of him remains, before slamming back in, his sack slapping against her ass. When he looks down, he can see her blood on his cock, and the sight of it, as well as the confirmation of her virginity, makes him grow frenzier, tongue running along her salty cheeks, moaning at the taste of her tears. He wants to bite her, to draw blood, to taste the very marrow of her.

A growl leaves him as he bites down against her wet cheek, the chub of it soft between his teeth. Her hands are quick to shove at his chest, though her moans and the sounds of her slickness, sticky against him, makes him believe his sweet little niece likes it just as much as he does. When he pulls away, he revels in the sight of the marks he left, bright pink and sure to turn a purple-blue after. Her sobs slowly turn into hiccups, which turn into moans that she tries to hold back with a bite to her lips, but when Aemond wraps one hand around her throat, they turn into gasps. He squeezes hard, holding for just a few seconds, before slackening his grip, letting her breathe if only for a moment, hips digging painfully into the back of her thighs with every thrust.

“You’re h-hurting me, uncle,” Lucerys cries out, doe eyes red from her tears, peering up at his grunting face above her own flushed one. “Kostilus.” (Please).

“Mazemilā ziry hae se sȳz byka līve iksā,” he sneers, bringing his body down to rest against her shivering frame, arms wrapping around her back, slick along the mud. He presses her flush to him, and she is quick to hold onto him, legs curling below the crook of his arse. “Mirre ñuhon.” (You will take it like the good little whore you are. All mine).

Her moans are sticky against his neck, lips brushing along the damp skin every time she opens her mouth, the sounds ringing in his ears above the pittering of the rain and the grumbles of occasional thunder. His fingers scratch down her back, hips stuttering as her cunt squeezes around his cock, warm and slick and unwilling to let him go. When she pulls her head up from its spot against his neck, hands scrambling to rest along his jaw, bringing his face up to look at her, eyes zoning in on the empty socket where his left eye once sat, it is then that he realizes he didn’t put on his eyepatch. He nearly shrinks into himself, jerking his chin away from her grasp so he can sink his face back against her hair, but she doesn’t relent. Instead, her fingers trace along the jagged scar, lips open in awe as she admires the work of her own hand.

Lucerys presses her lips right below the gaping hole of his eye, tongue gentle as she licks up the length of his scar. With her mouth resting just above the dark cavern, she whispers the words he has always wanted to hear, “I’m sorry, Aem. Iksan vaoreznuni.” (I am sorry).

He pushes her down to the wet ground once more, head slamming into the slush below, and she lets out a squeal, hands scrambling to push herself up. His hips snap into hers, palms tight against her wrists as he holds her down, vision a red haze. It isn’t enough. Her apology means nothing to him now, all these years after. Years spent mourning the loss of his eye, ruminating in the humiliation and injustice of that night, listening to the whispers of his classmates as they pondered over what sight sat beneath his leather eyepatch. Years of sharp pain shooting through his empty socket, of headaches that never went away, of dreaming of the one who caused this agony, her pretty face and that ringing laughter. Nothing she can say will ever be enough.

Tears stream down her pink cheeks, repainting the tracks left previously, her moans now gasps of pain and pleasure. He sits on his knees, her ass across his thighs, hips lifted upwards as he fucks her pliant body, like his own little doll. Her hair is matted with a mix of rain and mud, lips quivering and her eyes squeezed shut, a flush of shame and arousal settling across her bare chest. She looks so beautiful, so much like that young girl who has haunted his dreams since they first met, when she was just a babe and he a little boy who couldn’t yet form a sentence.

One of his hands slides up her bruised wrist, to rest along the gauze-covered palm, drawn to the wound that will scar her. His fingers dig beneath the wrap, lifting it up until the cut is bared, and as he feels her clench around him again, a breathy moan leaving her lips as her release washes over her, he leans his head down to lick along the seam. Dried blood flakes away, and as he presses his wet muscle harder, the cut reopens, blood blossoming out of it like a stream of water, which he doesn’t hesitate to lap over. His own release hits him like a tidal wave, the taste of her blood intoxicating him as he presses into her with one final thrust, his other hand going to grab onto her waist, thumb brushing against the bulge of his cock in her abdomen. She lays motionless as he uses her, until only small dots of blood remain along the reopened wound, and his cock has softened inside her, his seed hot against her womb.

Aemond rolls off of her with a grunt, hissing as her spent cunt seems to grasp at him as he pulls out. Between her thighs is a mess of blood and semen, a mix of their essences wet along his cock, and he almost hardens at the sight. He brings his fingers up to gather the pooling of the liquid that seeps out from her hole, roughly pushing it back in with a groan, her whimper sending another wave of arousal down his spine. She twitches beneath him, and when he is confident that his seed has stuck, he removes himself from her, rolling over onto his back and gazing up at the full moon, no longer covered by storm clouds. Beside him, Lucerys is quiet, only an occasional sniffle, and it seems like they lay there for hours, not speaking, not moving. Just waiting, three eyes focused on the night sky above them.

When she finally gets up, he watches with a hazy eye as she pulls on what remains of her nightgown, now a tattered, muddied mess of silk. She starts to walk off on shaky legs, but she pauses, turning back to look down at him.

“It was an accident, you know,” her voice is raspy, throat sore from the moans and cries that left her lips that night. “We were kids… I thought you were gonna kill Jace. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry, Aemond.”

He doesn’t say anything. She waits a few more moments, before finally walking off, her figure disappearing among the trees, leaving him alone by the still lake. He brings his fingers up to his lips, still wet from their mixed concoction of semen and blood, and takes his time licking them off. The taste is enough to slowly fill the gaping cavern in his chest, one full of rage and violence, images of his niece's body beneath him, naked in the moonlight, flushed from head to toe, racing through his mind in a kaleidoscope of memories.

Perhaps it was enough. Her apology, those saccharine words that dripped from her tongue like honey. He thinks maybe he can forgive her.

An eye for her innocence, for the blood that stains his cock and teeth.

*

a/n: this is crossposted to ao3 (user finalgrls)! kinda the darkest thing i’ve written so far, but it’s definitely the work im proudest of. i’d LOVE any feedback, even if it’s negative <3 i hope u enjoyed!

[arcielee]

My House of the Dragons masterlist. Please be mindful of each story's tags and warnings!

modern Aemond masterlist modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Warnings: Please be mindful of the warnings for each story! Author’s Note: Just a masterlist of my ever-growing modern Aemond Targaryen stories. Enjoy! 💜

A love that burns. Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader [third person] Summary: Aemond is a man obsessed and you are the object of his unwavering devotion.

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Ābrazȳrys dark!Aemond Targaryen x Wife!Reader Summary: Aemond goes to see is the king is truly dead and finds his wife instead.

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dōna mandia Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Aegon Targaryen [third person] Summary: Her brothers convince her to play a game.

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Hae iksā Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Summary: Aemond has been tasked to find himself a wife.

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ilībio Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt.

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Zȳha lyks Aemond Targaryen x Plus Size Reader Summary: You find an ally with the second son of King Viserys.

She Walks in Starlight Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Summary: Greek mythology HotD AU, some Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone slow burn.

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The Dragon and the Wolf - WIP Aemond Targaryen x Stark!reader Summary: “...perhaps the fire of a Targaryen prince is what is needed to thaw out your heart.”

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Ours never knew peace. Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader [first person] Summary: On the morning of the Great Tourney of Harrenhal, Lyanna Stark's granddam visits to give her an heirloom, a necklace with a sapphire stone...

There's not one thing that I would change. Aemond Targaryen x Stark!Reader [first person] Author's Note: This is what was implied, the smutty interlude that granddam could not read out loud to Lyanna.

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Quietly, it slips through your fingers - Part 1 Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen Summary: Rhaena confronts Aemond after dinner.

We gave our time to something undefined - Part 2 Aemond Targaryen x Rhaena Targaryen Summary: Aemond receives a late night visitor.

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Only If For A Night Aemond Targaryen x Female! Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother.

The Sapphire Prince Aemond Targaryen x OFC!Stark Summary:  A Targaryen prince falls for Cregan Stark’s sister and it sets to tear apart the Hightower’s devise.

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Call It Dreaming Aemond Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Summary: You have a delightful sex dream.

modern Aegon masterlist modern Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Warnings: Please be mindful of the warnings for each story! Author’s Note: Just a masterlist of my ever-growing modern Aegon Targaryen stories. Enjoy! 💜

Call It Dreaming Aegon Targaryen x Modern!FemReader Summary: You have a delightful sex dream.

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Only If For A Night Aemond Targaryen x Female! Reader, Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: You find comfort in your husband's brother.

dōna mandia Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader x Aegon Targaryen [third person] Summary: Her brothers convince her to play a game.

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Fare Well Aegon Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: You visit Aegon after another council meeting ends.

dōna riña Daemon Targaryen x Rhaenyra Targaryen x Female!Reader Summary: You are enraptured by the prince and princess.

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ānogar Daemon Targaryen x Wife!Reader Summary: Your husband helps comfort you.

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Aōhon iksan Daeron Targaryen x Female!Reader [third person] Summary: Daeron has come back from Oldtown to play his role in King’s Landing and marry one of the Four Storms.

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At last, when all of the world is asleep Ser Erryk Cargyll x Dornish!Reader Summary:  A Dornish princess is the siren call to break the vows of the Kingsguard.

Devotion Ser Erryk Cargyll x Targaryen!Reader Summary: You are a Targaryen princess with an infatuation on a certain White Cloak.

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A night of pleasure. Ser Gwayne Hightower x Female!Reader Summary: Ser Gwayne decides on you.

gifs by @mojogifs || arcie's navigation

[lilspooky-doll]

True Happiness Headcanons

pairing — Aegon II Targaryen x Handmaid! Reader

themes — canon targcest, fluff, aegon is a soft boi, au! aegon, one bad word (that's it, just the one), female! reader, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, children (warning in and of itself), some healing for Alicent, one mention of child death, just very fluffy headcanons

author's note — hello again, lovelies! this was going to be a two-parter but i decided to condense it down into one post. it wasn't realy as long as i though it was lol but, it involves the different headcanons of their lives from when they first met all the way into the bits of their lives that i didn't really touch on in the original parts. i have plans for a more canon version of aegon soon and it will be a very dark fic overall. so i hope you enjoy these little fluffy tidbits!!

ADOLESCENCE

Once Aegon trusted her, he started teaching her Valyrian in attempt to be able to speak to one another throughout the Keep without word getting back to Otto or his mother

Sure, his siblings could slightly understand what they spoke of but, there was no need to eavesdrop on something that was working

Aegon loves his hair being played with whether it’s just fingers combing through the strands or braids being plaited into small sections before gently being pulled apart

There has been a few times that he has fallen asleep with his head in her lap in the early days of them being close to one another

More open to one another, she taught Aegon how to braid hair so at the end of the day when they debrief about their days, she would play with his hair as he talked and he would braid her hair as she spoke

On rough days, she would read aloud or recite stories that her mother and father would tell her when she was young

Aegon would hoard his snacks that he would collect throughout his scheduled day and have her try some when they are together

When Aegon began to develop feelings for her, he would leave little bundles of dragon’s breath he picked throughout his day on her bed

She started reciprocating by leaving notes and poems in Valyrian under his pillow for him to find when he would rest for the night

Sporadically during the week, Aegon would take his supper in his chambers as a way of innocently courting her despite the differences in their statuses

She was the one to help Aegon with cutting his hair when the length began to bother him; the braided strands of cut hair are hidden away as a souvenir in her bedroom chambers

ADULTHOOD

Aegon is a giver in every sense of the word

He always tries to take care of her like how she takes care of him

He enjoys the warm feeling in his belly every time he saw her smile or laugh

Every few nights, Aegon would sneak them away to the pit for an evening ride on Sunfyre

The older they get, the more everyone began to notice how much he’s changed

He stopped picking on Aemond; 

He was able to maneuver things around for Helaena to marry Aemond; 

She would help him in her free time to catch insects to deliver to Helaena at the end of the day

They all begin to appreciate each other more

On days where there isn’t anything scheduled for them, picnics were organized for all of them in the Godswood and when Daeron is visiting from Oldtown, he is along for the trip

It’s the smallest things he does for them and they love how much he’s matured 

Aemond has thanked aegon for helping his betrothal

Alicent has walked in on them on multiple occasions

 She found them cuddled up on the couch him asleep and her playing with his hair; 

During a festival in the streets, she’s witnessed them dancing to the music and cheers that could be heard from the windows

Aegon has talking to Rhaenyra not long before their marriage as a way to bridge the gap between them

Rhaenyra’s shock receiving his letters wore off when she read that he had fallen in love with his handmaid and he planned to wed her much like she and daemon did

He offers Rhaenyra’s children sanctuary if Alicent or Otto ever tried to change the succession; this was his way of trying to ensure that he has no ill will towards her and her family anymore

She has them do their  wedding at Dragonstone under Valyrian tradition

Aegon uses a refitted ring of his for her to wear as a sign of marriage and he purposefully wears only one ring on his left hand

After the fight in her solar, Alicent still tries to force a betrothal upon Aegon

It immediately fails as every one of the betrothal letters Alicent sent out are either met with no response or word of outrage that she would try to arrange a second marriage; worried about another Maegor situation

Eventually, Alicent starts to love and respected Aegon the way that she does with her other children

Aegon didn’t instigate the nephews during that family dinner

Otto has tried to manipulate her but she’s far too aware of his games for his liking (gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss)

FAMILY

She became pregnant not long after their wedding and Aegon quietly announces the news to a select few people; in person: Aemond, Helaena and Alicent, by letter: Rhaenyra during a regular correspondence he has with her

After learning the news, Alicent starts to make an effort to know her and help her with what she needs as a way to make amends

Aegon handling her pregnancy like a pro 

Constantly he was catering to her every need and trying to make her comfortable

He always tried to make sure she didn’t get hurt while doing the few chores that she wanted to do (she comes from a long line of headstrong women who will not let a pregnancy stop them from doing what needs to be done)

He usually ended up just helping her with what she needed to do 

When it came time for their first born, Baelon, to make his appearance, she kicked out all of the maids and Maesters demanding only for Aegon to stay

Of course, he was well out of his depths but she tried to prep him the best she could the last several days leading up to the birth

Baelon was born with no complications with only his parents in the room and was never away from his mother despite the disgruntled protests that she used a nursemaid for the baby boy

Shortly after his birth, they set up a more secure and secretive correspondence between them and her family in hopes that if the time comes and Otto does something stupid, they could safely flee to hid away

Alicent is definitely a better grandmother than she was a mother

She routinely sets up for long relaxing midday activities for all her grandchildren so, she can spend time with them and the little cousins can grow together while their parents can relax worry-free

There’s 2 children who were born before they fled: Baelon & Alysanne. Once they settle on the homestead, they have twin girls: Laera and Rhaela with one more boy, Aerion

The children are raised with equal love from their parents and are raised under the belief that although they are technically royalty, they will learn to be kind and considerate of those around them

Raised to put the work into what they want just like their mother was raised before she left to work at the Red Keep

The Boys are strong but not emotionally stunted. They are taught that emotions are okay to have and apart of who they are

No toxic masculinity bullshit

The girls are taught to defend and protect themselves. They are physically strong and can use any weapon they can get their hands on if they need to

THE DANCE OF THE DRAGONS

The second they get to the Dornish marshlands, Aegon dyes his hair brown to hide better (brunette! Aegon all the way)

Once they settled on the family homestead, it didn’t take long for Aegon to fit in with her family

He actually quite likes the hard work that the family does everyday to make sure that everything runs smoothly

Aegon still keeps in regular contact with his family whether it be his siblings or even Rhaenyra; he always tries to maintain some semblance of what is happening with them as he escapes the plan that was to be forced upon him

When the plan Otto sets in place happens with Aemond as the usurper, they coordinate for all of the children from both his full siblings and half sibling to be safely hidden away on the homestead to prevent any possible bloodshed of the innocent

The plan went into effect too late as Lucerys was brutally killed on accident

As much as it pained Rhaenyra that she lost her children, she is happy that she can now safely know that they are away from this disaster

As a sign of thanks, Rhaenyra sent some of Syrax’s eggs so that Aegon’s children had a chance at being a dragon rider like their cousins

The Dance did not last long with Aemond as the usurper since he had no real standing like Aegon, first born son, or Rhaenyra, first born and declared heir

The Dance was more of a fight between councils and not nearly as bloody as canon

Once Otto was found to be the one pulling the strings, he was sentenced to death and the Targaryen children by Alicent bent their knee at Rhaenyra being the true Targaryen heir after Viserys

[maidragoste]

Promises

THG AU

Victor!Aegon II Targaryen x Victor!Reader

Summary: President Snow announces that in the next Quarter Quell, the tributes will be reaped from among the victors.

Logically I should have posted the Jace games first but it's been a while since I posted anything about Aegon and I was excited haha

Edit: The first chapter of the Jace games is now available.

Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Please, if you enjoyed this reading, let me know in the comments or in my inbox, that always motivates me to continue writing 💖💖

My inbox is open so I'm always willing to read your headcanons, opinions and answer your questions.

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

You were in the house of Viserys Targaryen like the rest of the victors from your district. Of course, you had to drag Aegon's drunk ass out of his house and bring him here first. Everyone was waiting for the broadcast about the seventy-five Hunger Games. All the Hunger Games were bloody but this year was the third quarter quell and in each quarter quell they modified the rules with the purpose of making the games even more brutal and more difficult to win. In the last quarter quell instead of sending two tributes per district they sent four so you couldn't even imagine what they planned to do now.

You locked eyes with Rhaenyra as you heard her father laugh at his own joke. She, like you, seemed to be anxious about the announcement because she kept spinning her rings.

“That's enough,” you said when you heard Alicent, Aegon's mother and Viserys' wife, sigh for the fifth time when she saw that her son wouldn't stop drinking. You tried to take the bottle from him but he slapped you and looked at you annoyed. Rhaenyra was ready to intervene but you waved her hand at her telling her you could handle it. “At least you can share a little,” you complained.

Aegon looked at you suspiciously. It wouldn't be the first time that you asked him to share his alcohol with you and then didn't return the bottle or in any case threw away all its contents. He groaned as he watched you pout before handing you the bottle. You smiled at him making a small smile appear on his face. Even so, he watched you carefully as you drank his whiskey, when he thought it was enough he abruptly took the bottle from you, causing the liquid to drip onto your chin. He laughed at your annoyed look as you wiped yourself with your hand. Rhaenyra shook her head at their foolishness.

President Snow finally appeared on the screen. Aegon's laughter stopped as did the conversation between Daemon, Viserys, and Harrold. At first, there was nothing out of the ordinary, as every year he talked about the uprising against the Capitol and how significant the games were until…

"On the 75th anniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that even the strongest among them cannot overcome the power of the Capitol"You didn't know why but you couldn't help but get tense, you felt your stomach drop, you tried to calm by telling yourself that surely it was just the drink you had that was bad for you and you leaned back from the couch, listening even more attentively to the speech. "the male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of victors."

You heard Alicent's screams. You watched as Rhaenyra got up from the couch and left the house. You flinched at the sound of breaking glass. The president's voice was no longer heard and the smell of whiskey filled the place. Aegon was no longer next to you, he found himself banging his head against the wall as he screamed. You felt like your heart was going a mile a second. You had a lump in your throat and your chest hurt and all you wanted to do was join in the screaming and smash things but that wouldn't help. Aegon needed you, Aemond and Daeron were busy trying to calm their mother down while Viserys carried a frightened Helaena to her room and Harrold along with Willis was trying to stop Daemon from destroying the kitchen as he had done with the vases in the living room.

You stood up and didn't bother to dodge the glass as you walked towards the youngest male victor in your district. You tugged at the back of his shirt, managing to move him away from the wall for a brief moment.

“Aegon! Stop” you shouted in a broken voice as you saw her hit herself again.

Hearing your voice like that Aegon turned to see you. There was now a bloody gash on his forehead and his eyes were manic. For a brief moment you thought he would attack you but all he did was pull your body towards his and entice you into a tight hug.

“We can't go back. I can’t go back” You felt his body shake as he sobbed and your heart broke for him. You knew Aegon's head couldn't handle surviving another arena, he spends all his time drinking to stay groggy and avoid thinking about all the people he killed. Even most of the time he only managed to fall asleep after having been drinking non-stop. "I can not do it"

“You won't,” you promised, caressing his cheeks, your head already hatching a plan. District One has five living male victors: Viserys, Daemon, Aegon, Willis Fell, and Harrold Westerling. There were chances that Aegon's name wouldn't come up in the reaping but if it did then Daemon could offer himself as a tribute. He would do it if you volunteered in Rhaenyra's place and if you promised to help him keep his girlfriend from District Four alive.

“I can't lose you,” he said, resting his forehead against yours. Maybe he was lucky and his name didn't come up in the reaping but you had less chance. You and Rhaenyra were the only living victors in the district. If your name came up he knew his sister wouldn't show up as a tribute. She may not depend on being drunk to keep her calm but he had witnessed how she would sometimes wake up screaming and the dark circles under her eyes were evidence that she could sometimes go days without sleep.

And those words ended up destroying you. You started crying with him. You wanted to be strong but you couldn't. You didn't want to go back to the arena either, you were supposed to be free after winning the games, and you didn't want to kill again, much less people you know. You may not be friends with every victor but during these years as a mentor, you had at least spoken once with each one.

Your stomach twisted as you thought that maybe it was one of your friends who would finish you off. Would they be merciful and give you a not-so-painful death? You didn't believe it because you knew that the people in the Capitol liked the show, they got bored with a simple death, and they wanted to see blood. So if Arryk, Tyland Johanna, and Sabitha wanted to live they would have to put on a show to gain sponsors.

Perhaps the easiest thing would be to commit suicide in the games, you would bring dishonor to your district—you wouldn't be the first, people still didn't see Viserys as a true victor after having betrayed his cousin by killing her while she slept—but at least you wouldn't have to kill anyone. The president couldn't punish you, he had already taken away your loved ones after you refused to prostitute yourself and killed the one who was supposed to be your biggest sponsor, he had only wanted you to come out alive so he could obtain your body.

You could die by eating some poisonous bug, plant, or fruit like Jacaerys Strong and her district mate had tried to do at the last minute. Supposedly they had done it because they were in love and didn't dare to be in a world without each other but you were sure it was an act. You could come to believe that the girl is in love but the boy does not seem natural with every display of affection in public.

“It's not fair,” you whispered in disbelief when you realized that they were all being punished because of the last victors. They had done their act of rebellion by threatening to eat poisonous berries so that there would be no winner of the games after announcing that the rule that there could be two winners if they were part of the same district was revoked. “It's not fair,” you moved your hands away from Aegon's face for fear that in your state of fury, you might end up scratching him. “I want them dead.”

You were too deep in your head to notice Aegon looking at you in dismay. Tears didn't stop flowing from your eyes but there was no longer fear in them but fury and determination. You have the same look you had during your Hunger Games.

You may die in these hunger games but at least before you leave you would make sure to make the so-called lovers of District Twelve pay for ruining what little peace you and Aegon had. You would make them wish they had died in their games.

These days it seemed like all you felt was anger. Angry at President Snow, at the Capitol, at Jacaerys Strong, and the girl from Twelve. But right now the one you were angry at was Aegon. The day after the announcement about vassalage was made, all the victors agreed that they would train together and get in shape for these games. The only one who had continued training all these years was Daemon, so the rest had a lot to catch up on, especially Viserys and Harrold—because of their age—and Aegon—because of his alcoholism—so when it was about to be a week and the idiot still didn't leave his house, you got angry.

You entered his house with the key he gave you a year ago. You found him sleeping on the couch with several bottles, some empty and others still unopened, on his table. You bit the inside of your cheek to avoid waking him up by screaming. The best thing would be to take advantage of the fact that he was asleep to get rid of any alcohol that was in the house. You started by inspecting the entire house and ended up throwing the contents of two flasks that were in his bathroom, five bottles of whiskey that you found in his room, and five bottles of vodka in his kitchen, down the drain.

When Aegon woke up he found you putting the bottles that were on his table into a garbage bag. He rubbed his eyes tiredly and once his vision fully focused he slowly stood up. He walked towards you and he hugged you from behind. Feeling your body he tensed he left a kiss on the back of your neck hoping you would relax but instead, he earned a slap on his hands that were on your waist. The blonde grumbled and walked away from you, finally realizing your bad mood.

“Go take a bath” you ordered without looking at him and continuing with your cleaning task.

Aegon listened to you, of course, he left before grumbling, revealing his displeasure at your cold tone towards him, hoping that once he was clean you would let him hug you and kiss you. At the thought of having your sweet lips, he soon took a quick shower and didn't even bother to dry his hair well before coming down to meet you in the kitchen. I smile at you when I see that you have made him eggs and toasted him bread. Before eating he wanted to look for a bottle of vodka to accompany the meal but he found his shelf empty.

“No more alcohol,” you declared, making the blonde turn to look at you with a frown. “Don't even try, I got rid of everything” you said when you saw him opening another shelf.

“You have no right!” He reproached you, pointing his finger as he walked towards you. You didn't flinch at his angry look nor did you try to escape when he placed both of his hands on the table, leaving you caged between his body and the table.

“You told me you couldn't lose me” The man looked at you confused without understanding what this had to do with you taking away his alcohol “So I'm training and I'm trying hard for these games for you” You felt heat on your face because of what you were about to say, you weren't used to being so open with your feelings. “I want you to do the same for me. I want you to train with me and the rest of the victors. I want you to promise me that you will give everything you have to win these games because I can't lose you either, I couldn't bear to live without you” Your voice broke at the end and you closed your eyes.

You needed Aegon to promise you so you could be a little calmer, you had already spoken with Daemon and he accepted your deal but you were still afraid that he would betray you at the last minute, you needed to know that Aegon would not give up if he went to the arena.

Feeling his chest warm at your words Aegon grabbed you by the waist to bring you even closer to him and captured his lips with yours. It didn't take long for you to move your lips in tandem with him. While he got drunk with the sweetness of your lips and melted before your touch, he couldn't help but think that this was the way he wanted to spend his last days, by your side. He also wanted to hit his past self for not taking advantage of every moment he had with you. If only he had made the effort to be a decent man and become someone worthy of you he would have told you a long time ago that he loves you. But he didn't and he didn't want to tie you down to spending the rest of your life with a useless drunk so he kept his feelings to himself and settled for those shared nights.

A growl left his lips as you broke the kiss. He tried to kiss you again but you moved your face making him pout.

"Please, Aegon. I need you to train. I need you to try and fight for us."

He hated that look in your eyes. He could see the fear and sadness in them. And knowing that he was one of the reasons you were unhappy made him feel a pit in his stomach. He didn't like the idea of having to fight Daemon and obey his orders, but he would do it for you.

"I will do it, I promise"

Maybe later when he is crying and with sore muscles he would regret it but seeing how your eyes lit up and the bright smile you gave him he didn't believe that would happen.

"I love you" he finally confessed his feelings and smiled when he saw the surprise in your eyes "I love you. I love you. I love you" he repeated while he spread kisses all over your face.

A mixture of laughter and sobs escaped your lips. You were happy to know that he also felt the same as you, you had long wanted to hear those words, but your heart ached knowing that you would not be able to spend the rest of your life at Aegon's side. It was a bittersweet feeling.

"I love you too," you declared through tears.

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[flowerandblood]

Brother, Lover, Son (Oneshot)

The Impossible Choice Series Special Chapter

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[description: Aemond is sent to Storm's End by his father to be trained in the nature of battle and warfare under Borros Baratheon eye, in preparation for his future role as commander of his brother's army. He is to choose one of his daughters as his future wife, but Borros only allows him to choose between four of them when his true desire is awakened by his fifth and youngest child.]

[warnings: sex content, virginity loss, fingering, masturbation, kissing, smut, angst, sexual tension, domination, violence, kind of incest but not actually]

This oneshot is an alternate reality from The Impossible Choice Series where, according to Aemond's words in Chapter 49, he is sent to Storm's End by his father when he is still just a child. It shows what would happen and how it would affect Aemond and Lady Baratheon, what his relationship with Borros, Royce and her other sisters would be like. This chapter stands apart from the main story and is a big, long "what if". This is very long oneshot (over 15.000 words).

Part two of this oneshot: To desire, to love, to care Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister

Brother, Lover, Son Inside Alphabet

Moodboards before you start reading and want feel the mood:

Aemond and Lady Baratheon • Storm's End Stronghold • Baratheon Family • Lady Baratheon Gowns • Aemond • Lady Baratheon Mother

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

Main story and my other fics: Masterlist

______

He was unable to understand his father's decision. The night after their conversation, after the King had conveyed his will to him he had cried with rage, lying with his face pressed against his pillow, his barely healed scar from Luke's cut burning and itching more than usual.

"I've decided that you will spend a few years in Storm's End, preparing for your role as commander under the tutelage of Lord Borros. After what has happened you need a change of environment, son. It'll do you good."

He wept quietly, remembering those words for the hundredth time. He thought with grief that what he needed was not a change of environment, but a father who would come in time, save him from his nephew's cut, support him later in front of everyone, hug him and comfort him.

Meanwhile, despite the fact that he had managed to tame the largest dragon that now walked the earth, his father was getting rid of him.

He thought that the lack of an eye made him now forever defiant in his eyes and he wanted to hide him somewhere far away from the world, condemning him to oblivion.

His mother begged his father to change his mind, but he said that his son was already eleven years old and would soon be a grown man, and she could visit him whenever she wanted.

Whether he wanted it or not, a week later he was standing in the courtyard wrapped in his crying mother's arms – Aegon yawned, uninteresed, looking around, Helaena was staring at her hands, thoughtful, and small Daeron sobbed loudly, not understanding why he had to leave.

He only grunted, looking at them, not knowing what to say – he simply nodded, turned and walked away, not wanting to cry in front of everyone like a little child.

When he reached Storm's End on Vhagar a heavy rain was pouring down all around him, through which he could see very little. He struggled to land near the fortress, and travelled a long distance on foot before encountering guards who came out to meet him and led him straight into the great stone stronghold.

Frozen and with a pounding heart he stepped inside – the keep seemed huge and cold to him, his wet footsteps echoing loudly and disturbingly all around him.

He was led into a large circular hall and saw a tall, massive, bearded man before him. He was strongly built, his shoulder-length hair was as dark as his beard, his thick eyebrows furrowed in displeasure, which he recognised that he was the reason for.

"What is the meaning of this? Why haven't you given him dry clothes yet?" He almost roared at his guards, who only nodded, moving immediately back towards the corridor.

"Royce!" The man called out in a voice so tubular that it echoed loudly throughout the hall, making him swallow heavily. He tried to keep an indifferent face, but he could feel his legs trembling.

Suddenly, a boy, taller than him and reminding him a bit of Jace, ran into the hall through a side entrance. He had short, curly hair and big brown eyes.

"Lead Prince Aemond to his chamber. Let him rest, and then both of you come to the feast." He said in a firm, unobjectionable voice from which his heart trembled.

His father-king had never spoken like this and he did not know how to act.

Royce, however, did not seem at all bothered by his father's harsh tone. He approached him with a light step and bowed, looking at him curiously.

"Follow me, my Prince." He said, and he simply moved behind him, snorting quietly with his nose.

They moved up the grand, richly carved stone staircase. He was walking so fast that it was hard to keep up with him – they turned into one of the main corridors, then Royce opened a wooden door and invited him inside.

He stepped into his chamber and realised to his surprise that this room was even bigger than the one he had lived in the Red Keep – there was already a fire in the fireplace, the warmth of the flames making him tremble a little less. Royce looked at him and opened the dresser, pulling out a linen shirt and breeches, glancing at him.

"Get changed. Unfortunately such fine weather here is normal. You'll have to get used to it. The supper will begin in an hour, father doesn't like anyone to be late. Make yourself comfortable." He said and patted him on the shoulder, stepping around him and walking out, leaving him with an embarrassed expression on his face.

No lord had ever touched him so brazenly or spoken to him so directly, but yet he felt some kind of relief after he had done so.

He thought that perhaps such gestures were made between friends, brothers, and swallowed quietly.

This was not his family.

He had been sent here as if to some great stone prison.

After a few minutes or so, the servants brought trunks with his belongings, which had been brought in several carriages, and he changed into an attire he thought appropriate for supper. A plump, smiling woman then walked into his chamber and informed him that she would be his servant and that he could ask her for anything he needed.

He felt strange.

He knew they were kind to him because he was a prince, because his father and Lord Baratheon had decided that he would one day marry one of his daughters.

They could not offend or discourage him.

He pressed his lips together at the thought and decided that he would not fall for this cheap pity.

He wondered for a moment how he was supposedly going to get to the chamber where the supper would take place, but a few minutes before the appointed time Royce knocked on his door asking if he was ready.

They went there together.

They entered a great hall from the ceiling of which hung a huge candlestick, behind a long table stretched a fireplace from which a fire gushed, on an oak table spread a whole lot of dishes he had not seen before.

He noticed, surprised, that Lord Borros had already eaten, ignoring the fact that not everyone was yet at the table, nor that he, the Prince, had yet to sit down. He swallowed quietly, sitting down in the seat Royce had indicated to him, the curious glances of his sisters made him lower his head, embarrassed.

They were looking at his eyepatch, at his scar.

He wanted to hide, to disappear.

Suddenly he heard a squeal from under the table that Royce had just ducked under. He pulled out a little girl laughing so loudly he felt uncomfortable – he tried to pull away from her brother, but he held her tight and pinched her flushed cheek.

"This is where you hid, little rascal. I'm sorry, this is no longer your place, from now on Prince Aemond sits here." He explained to her, and she stopped squirming, looking at him with furrowed brows and tightened lips.

He glanced at her, thinking she was about to start crying as loudly as she laughed, but she glanced back at Royce.

"Fine. He can sit there, but you can't." She burbled, jabbing her brother in his arm with her finger, stepping under the table again and appearing on the other side, taking the empty seat next to her other sister, the only fair-haired girl, who sighed heavily as she looked at her.

"Sit down. Don't act like an animal." She said, correcting her on the seat, her younger sister looked at her resentfully but said nothing.

"What do you want to eat?" She asked her as if she were her mother, and the girl pointed her finger at the roast. Lord Borros' low, firm voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Eat. Don't be shy. This is your home now." He said, glancing at him with his piercing brown eyes, putting some more meat from the platter beside him and handed it to him.

He swallowed hard, nodded and took a bit for his plate.

Throughout the supper he had been frustrated by the attentiveness of Lord Borros' daughters, except perhaps the youngest, who was too savage to concentrate on anything.

He had hardly slept through the night, curling up in his bed, trying not to cry from sadness and longing – he wanted to return to King's Landing, to a place where the sun greeted him every day, not rain and clouds, where was his library to hide in, his garden, his mother and his heritage.

He felt lost, lonely, forsaken.

His maid brought him his meal in the morning, warm milk with a platter of rolls and vegetables he liked.

He wondered how she knew this and whether Lord Borros had asked his mother about it before.

Then Royce came into his chamber and said that in an hour he would be training with his father in the courtyard and he could join them if he wished.

He wasn't sure he wanted to.

He was afraid of humiliation.

However, he recognised that Lord Borros could not see him as a weak coward, so he went downstairs, having previously dressed in the garments designed for sparrings, stepping into the courtyard from the side, through the cloisters, and stopped, looking at the view in front of him in disbelief.

Indeed Lord Borros and Royce were practising, both of them with wooden swords in their hands, all sorts of targets and shields around them, on tables surrounding them weapons he had not even seen in King's Landing.

What he did not understand, however, was what his youngest daughter was doing there with them.

"Stand firmer on your feet. Improve your posture." Borros shouted loudly at her as she pushed against Royce with vigour, her wooden sword even smaller than his, her dark hair tied up in a braid, determination and focus in her big, bright eyes.

Royce deflected her attack and with a single, powerful blow knocked her wooden sword out of her hand far away. She immediately ran after it, picking it up off the ground.

"Are you holding that sword or not?" Asked frustrated Royce, throwing his sword over his shoulder. "You need to have a stronger grip, focus."

"I'm trying!" She called out, running back to him and stopped, spotting him standing in front of the fortress entrance.

"Prince Aemond is here!" She exclaimed joyfully, and he blushed and lowered his head, embarrassed, feeling as if he had been caught in the act, even though he had done nothing wrong.

Borros and Royce immediately turned their gazes towards him, Lord Baratheon running the hilt of his sword over the sand.

"Come here." He said in a commanding voice, without any further pleasantries.

He pressed his lips together at the thought that Criston had always addressed him with respect, not forgetting his titles.

He swallowed loudly, walking towards them with his head lowered, pale, prepared for humiliation. Royce threw a wooden sword in his direction, which he caught in flight.

"Ready?" The boy asked him, and he nodded. Royce thrust at him suddenly, his blow swishing through the air, but he jumped back, spinning, trying to hit him from the side.

Royce blocked his blow and pushed him away, but he swished his sword once more, hitting him with all his strength on the shoulder. Royce hissed and recoiled, furrowing his brow, and he froze and stopped, swallowing loudly, looking at Lord Baratheon in horror. His daughter who stood beside him clapped her hands, a wide smile on her face. Borros nodded.

"Good. Royce, what did you do wrong?" His father asked, and Royce sighed heavily.

"I didn't dodge on my knees." He said resignedly. His father hummed under his breath.

"Exactly. How many times do I have to tell you. Footwork is key! Again." He ordered, Royce sighed, the expression of displeasure gone from his face.

They had had several duels with each other, already more evenly matched, Lord Baratheon after each one giving them remarks or showing them what they were doing wrong. He swallowed loudly as he turned to him.

"You have very good technique, but you are too tense in your shoulders. Relax them and your swing will be wider, you will be able to reach your enemy from a greater distance. Do you understand?" He asked and he nodded, unable to get the words out, his heart was beating like crazy.

His advice worked – he could feel in his hand that his sword was reaching farther, he hit Royce in the chest and he caught himself and hissed. Lord Borros came up and patted him firmly on the shoulder.

"Good. Just like that. Royce, legs." Borros said to him, and he felt his cheeks turn red, his belly filled with some kind of pride he didn't want to feel.

When they had finished and Borros said they could go and rest, he thought Royce would lurk somewhere in the middle of the fortress and beat him up for the warm words from his father.

Aegon always took it out on him later when he won some sparring organised by Criston Cole, saying that he had humiliated him in front of everyone.

Royce, however, seemed to have forgotten all about the training, hot and sweaty, saying he was thirsty and hungry. He told him they could go to the pantry together, and he nodded, although he'd never been in such a place before.

They went down into the underground – there were many servants walking around them, but they didn't seem to pay any attention to them, as if Royce's presence was normal for everyone. Royce went into one of the rooms and took two apples for them, on the way one of the servants asked him if they preferred to eat something warm.

"No." Said Royce, throwing him the other apple, turning back. They ate as they walked down the long, stone-cold corridors.

He wondered if he could ask him about it, but he couldn't hold his curiosity any longer.

"Do you have a library here?" He asked feigning indifference, biting into the sweet flesh of the fruit.

Only now did he feel the stress leave him, his stomach growling with hunger.

Royce looked at him puzzled.

"Yes, but it's rarely used. I can show you where it is if you want."

As promised, Royce took him to a gigantic room made up of huge stone bookcases filled to the brim with dusty tomes. Indeed, the place looked as if no one had looked there for a long time.

He knew that Lord Borros could not read, however, he wondered if his children couldn't do it either. He glanced at Royce and wondered if it was appropriate for him to ask such things.

So far Royce had been nice to him and was the only boy his age he could speak with about anything.

He figured he'd phrase the question so as not to give himself away.

"Don't you like books?" He asked casually, eating further, strolling across the room with him. Royce shrugged his shoulders.

"I like books about the war, but they have a lot of difficult words that I don't understand. My mother explained to me that they were difficult books for adults and that I could try to go back to them when I was older." He said calmly, and he swallowed loudly, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye.

Their mother was dead, but he wouldn't dare ask what had happened to her.

He hummed under his breath at his words and nodded.

"Sometimes I take books from here to read to my sister before bed. The youngest one you saw in the courtyard today." He said, taking one of the books from the shelf, looking through it without much concentration. He looked at him thoughtfully.

"Why is your little sister practising with you?" He asked, completely not understanding what she was doing there, having never seen any girl their age in King's Landing take an interest in such things before.

"And why not?" Royce replied with a question to question, shrugging his shoulders. He was surprised by this answer and did not know what to reply.

"She cried terribly when I didn't want to take her with me. She insisted on sword fighting and that's it. Didn't one of Aegon the Conqueror's sister-wives fight with a sword?" He asked, raising an eyebrow.

He pressed his lips together, refraining from saying that the Targaryens were not like other people and not to compare them, but he decided it was rude and left the subject.

From then on, he found his asylum in the forgotten library of Storm's End, where he spent his afternoons after training with Royce and writing off his mother's letters.

Although he still felt lonely, Royce was good company, not imposing on him, having his barriers, respecting his space – he wasn't spiteful and didn't look down on girls the way Aegon did, didn't beat him surreptitiously when his father wasn't watching, didn't play silly jokes or mischief on him.

He was a good friend.

He liked to climb up to the small half-floor of the library from which he had a view of the whole place, settling in there with a few books and something to eat, spending long hours there.

One day, however, he heard, startled, as the door to the room opened, and Borros's youngest daughter ran inside like a storm, approaching one of the bookcases. She struggled to pull some book off a shelf she couldn't reach, and he watched her efforts without a word.

He wondered if he should help her, and then decided he didn't need to do anything for her.

The girl finally took the chair and stood on it, this time grabbing what she wanted. He blinked as she got off the chair and sat down on it, looking through some sort of large, colourful book, he could see from a distance how many illustrations it had.

He thought curiously that he would take it as soon as she had gone, however, she sat down comfortably and browsed further, wiggling her legs that did not reach the ground.

He sighed quietly and flipped the page of his book, discouraged, and she then lifted her head high and spotted him. He squeezed his eye shut when he heard her get up suddenly and run upstairs to him.

He thought he could bid farewell to silence and peace.

"What are you reading about?!" She asked, sitting down next to him at the table above which her head barely protruded.

She opened a large but rather thin book in front of him, with an ornate red cover on which a dragon-like shape flashed before his eye.

He didn't answer her question, pushing the book closer to himself, beginning to look through it quickly.

"I'm reading this!" She squealed in pain, wanting to take it from him, but he pushed her hand away.

"Be quiet." He growled, flicking through page after page, feeling his heart begin to pound.

Tales of the ancient Rulers of the Seven Kingdoms.

Beautifully illustrated scenes of nuptials, dragons, battles, his ancestors on gilded, coloured illuminations.

In the Red Keep he had never seen such a book before.

He flipped its pages back to the beginning, wanting to start reading, but felt her hand tighten on his arm, her breathing uneven, as if she were about to cry.

"…I read it…." She mumbled, looking at him with big eyes full of tears, her face expressing as if she had never suffered so much in her life as she did in that moment.

"I'm reading it now. When I'm done I'll give it back to you." He said dryly, looking away.

He thought she was going to run off crying to complain to Royce or her father, pressing his lips together at the thought, but she drew in a loud breath, trying to hold back the loud sobs that were pushing at her throat.

"− and can I − uh - can I sit next to − and you'd read to me, and I − I − I'd like to −" She spoke incoherently and with difficulty, and he clenched his eye knowing that she wouldn't leave him alone. He sighed heavily, pushed her chair closer to him and moved the book to the side.

"Do you see anything?" He asked impatiently, looking at her, and she sat up on her knees to raise herself higher, looking at the open book curiously, her face completely changed its expression back to contented and gentle, although she was still red from tears.

"Yes."

He sighed heavily and began to read.

"Once upon a time there was a mysterious land called Valyria. It was known for its great sorcery and magic, and the most enchanted creatures of all had to be the almighty dragons, great flying reptiles breathing fire that resembled lizards in appearance. They had been invincible for thousands of years, sowing fear and confusion among humans who tried to tame them with prayers and gifts." He read in a calm voice and realised after a moment that she was listening to him as if enchanted, looking along with him at the text.

She glanced at him when he stopped reading, her gaze expressing joyful anticipation.

She really thought he was going to read the whole book to her now.

He didn't know how he felt about that thought.

It frustrated him that he had to exert himself for her just on her whim.

"Read on." She said softly, squirming on her lap in anticipation. "I really want to learn more about dragons."

He swallowed quietly at her words, lowering his head, looking blankly at the text in front of him.

Even though her sisters were trying with all their might to make contact and conversation with him, he could see them trying to avoid looking at his eyepatch, afraid they would say the wrong thing or offend him.

He was tired of it.

They pretended all the time.

But she wanted nothing more than for him to continue reading a story that interested her.

So he read on.

✦ - ✦ - ✦ A few years later ✦ - ✦ - ✦

When his mother sent him a letter that Helaena had finally given birth, he flew to King's Landing for a few days to see his nephews. He was pleased, although he did not particularly show it, that his sister had endured the hardships of labour well, being able to get out of bed almost immediately despite giving birth to two children rather than one.

He stood over the two beautiful, ornate wooden cradles in which the two white-haired infants lay and pressed his lips together, knowing that these innocent creatures had just pushed him in line to the throne.

He had inherited nothing.

All he had was Vhagar.

He knew everyone thought so − as he walked the corridors of the Red Keep he felt the stares of the lords and ladies of the court, he knew they were whispering about him. He appeared in King's Landing infrequently and always aroused a general curiosity that made him want to return to Storm's End at once.

There he didn't feel like an intruder, he thought with pain.

Despite his mother's pleas for him to stay for a few weeks, he decided that he would return to Storm's End as planned, remembering his promise to Lord Baratheon to return to the fortress before his Name Day.

The last supper he spent in the Red Keep was quiet and peaceful, the only people at the table who had the strength to speak were his grandfather and his mother.

Although the evening went on as usual, he could not get rid of the feeling that everyone around him was grey and dead, without energy or joy.

He recoiled from it.

Although he had always sought silence and solitude in Storm's End, suppers there were full of loud conversations and laughter, usually through the banter between Borros, his son and his youngest child, sometimes joined by Ellyn.

Cassandra usually pressed her lips together, looking at him with shame, perpetually worried that he was unhappy or embarrassed, trying to mother everyone, much to his frustration.

Ellyn was sweet and kind, but everything frightened her − she was close to tears when he and Royce had fierce duels during which she almost begged them not to hurt each other.

Maris was withdrawn and immersed in her thoughts, paying no attention to him after he had growled at her several times not to enter his chamber in his absence.

Neither of them frustrated him as much as Floris did.

As he walked down the corridor she tried to catch him under his arm, turning his journey from point to point into a romantic stroll. She constantly asked his opinion when it came to choosing a gown for the feast, to which he didn't feel like answering, uninterested.

Her approach tired him.

However, on the whole, he felt surprised and sad when he caught himself thinking that he was returning to Storm's End with relief.

He felt like a stranger, like an intruder in his own home and felt rage mixed with disappointment.

He returned on Vhagar to Storm's End late at night, flying in the middle of a terrible storm, entering the fortress all soaked.

He rolled his eye when he saw that Floris was waiting for him, dressed only in a slightly transparent night robe, holding some cloth in her hands.

"You're soaking wet, my Prince, let me help you." She said, looking at him with big eyes.

"No need. Don't follow me." He said dryly, heading to his chamber and locking himself in to make sure she would definitely not come after him.

He changed into dry clothes and collapsed on his bed, falling asleep almost immediately, hearing the loud thunder outside his window.

He woke up as always before dawn, looking tiredly at the grey, overcast sky – he murmured under his breath seeing that it wasn't raining and rose, putting on his breeches, dressing his boots lazily.

He liked to practice in the morning, in solitude, before everyone else was up – dueling with Royce was interesting and over the years they had formed a wordless, close bond, however he liked to train alone sometimes, wanting to surprise him later with an unexpected blow.

He stepped out into the courtyard and was immediately struck by the crisp, pleasant, refreshing air. He picked up one of the long swords and turned it around a few times in his hand, wanting to check that it lay well in his hand.

He shuddered and almost fell over when he felt someone suddenly jump onto his back.

"– brother! –" He heard a happy girlish squeal, someone's arms were embracing his neck from behind, her legs clenched around his waist.

"− fuck! − gods −" He hissed, feeling his heart pounding like a mad, looking back over his shoulder, although he knew perfectly well who he was going to see.

He felt her warm breath on his cheek, her pleasant floral scent filled his nose, her cheeks warm and flushed from the cold, her bright eyes shining with genuine joy at the sight of him.

She giggled seeing the look on his face.

"Where is your vigilance?" She asked amused and he snorted.

"Get off." He growled in frustration and pushed her away so that she had to slide back off the ground.

He looked at her frustrated, his lips pressed together into a thin line in shame.

"Can you finally stop doing that?" He said coolly, looking down at her, but she only smiled wider, putting her hands at her sides, not making anything of his words.

Only now did he realise that she too was wearing her training attire, tight black breeches, a buff white shirt, and over that an embroidered corset pleasantly hugging her waist, her long dark hair tied in a braid.

He swallowed loudly as he looked at her, wondering helplessly why he always lost his confidence in her presence.

She was driving him off balance.

"Forgive me. I couldn't help myself when I saw you." She said meekly, walking up to him with a light step, standing in front of him, her face gentle and happy.

She was glad to see him.

She was glad he was back.

He felt embarrassed at her words and looked away, pressing his lips together. She saw how tense he was and obviously felt remorse, because she lowered her gaze.

"I thought you'd come back last evening." She said softly, looking up at him again, her eyes big, sincere, warm.

She was always direct, always spoke straight from her heart, but there was no pressure or expectation of reciprocation, of an answer.

Her sincerity straddled him and he usually didn't know what to make of it, embarrassed and confused by her words.

"Something kept me in King's Landing." He replied briefly and dryly, looking at the hilt of his sword, turning it steadily in his hand, pressing its tip to the ground.

"I hope the Princess' delivery was quick and easy and that her children are healthy." She said softly, with genuine interest and concern.

"Mmm." That was the only thing that came out of his mouth. He felt an uncomfortable silence ensue between them, as it always did, but she seemed to make nothing of it.

"Will it bother you if I practise archery next to you?" She finally asked politely, looking at him expectantly, shifting from foot to foot.

"Do what you want." He said dryly, rolling the hilt of his sword in his hand and turned his back to her, striking one of the targets with its blade.

She answered him nothing to this, standing in silence for a moment, and then he heard her move as she approached one of the tables, taking from it the bow she always chose, given to her by her father. She positioned herself sideways to him, aiming at the shield from a long distance and hit the target immediately.

They practised like this in silence until Royce finally joined them.

She and Royce formed a very strong bond between them, which manifested itself in their constant conversations and closeness. He watched from the side as Royce embraced her, picked her up, leaned against her while standing next to her and felt embarrassed, never having been this close to Helaena himself, and even if he had been, he would not have had the courage to show it to her in this way.

She knew she couldn't afford the same type of closeness to him and didn't even try. She circled around him with an amused, joyful expression though, her eyes shining brightly at the sight of him, making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He could not stop the rapid beating of his heart and the heat that spread through his body as her hand lightly touched his arm when she asked him something or wanted to comfort him.

She loved to surprise him, appearing in front of him out of nowhere, almost giving him a heart attack, and walking away laughing out loud at his expression, leaving him overwhelmed with embarrassment.

She repeated that his face was always stony and indifferent and that she was only checking how much she could get out of him.

The exchanges between them were usually unpredictable and chaotic – she never said what he expected of her and it made him perpetually tense in her presence.

He didn't even know when she stopped being a child, changing just like him, the height difference between them even greater than before.

It seemed to him as if she were a small wildflower that bloomed day by day, her shapes becoming more and more girlish, embarrassingly pleasing to his eye. Unlike her sisters, she didn't try to look older than she was – she allowed herself to mature slowly, without unnecessary haste, without killing her innocence, joy and lightness.

Pretty soon he began to see with horror that looking at her from the side was working on his mind, drawing reactions from his body that he was ashamed of.

He never lay with any woman, being like his mother a faithful follower of the Seven, believing that as a man he should be able to control himself and his desires completely.

He tried to avoid her, but at the same time he couldn't stop the squeeze of excitement in his stomach when she came to him in the library or during their joint training sessions – he never knew what she would do, what she would say, so he pretended to be indifferent, trying not to think about how hard his heart was pounding.

Nevertheless, he did not know what drove him to follow her one evening when, returning from the library, he saw that she was running down to underground crypts in nothing but her nightgown and robe tied loosely around her waist with a candle in her hand.

He thought he'd go and scare her like she had done to him, to make her feel what it was like.

That he'll teach her a lesson.

He followed her quietly, watching his every step, feeling like a predator trying to stalk its prey – he saw the faint light of her candle right in front of him, saw her silhouette standing in front of one of the crypts, her head bowed in thought.

He didn't know what possessed him to grab her by her neck with his hand, embracing her waist with his arm and pull her to him so violently that her body slammed into his, a sudden, high-pitched squeal escaped her mouth.

"Fucking unpleasant, isn't it?" He hissed into her ear, feeling her whole body tremble, her breathing accelerated and terrified – his hand tightened on her neck, the closeness of her body made his manhood pulse hard in his breeches against her buttocks.

"I wanted to see if you are able to make other than a happy, laughing face." He whispered mischievously into her ear and felt a shiver run through her body, her hand clamped on his arm.

She turned her head towards him, her eyes big, terrified, red, full of something he couldn't describe, her lips parted wide.

They were both breathing unevenly – they had never stood so close to each other before, a silence fell between them that terrified him.

A silence full of tension.

Say something, he thought, say I'm a nasty bastard, hit me, push me away.

He swallowed loudly when he felt her put her hand on his, her skin soft and warm.

"Today it is ten years since my mother passed away." She whispered in a trembling, soft voice, looking down, and he felt his heart stop.

He lifted his gaze to the sarcophagus with the large stone statue standing on top of it and recognised in it the face of a woman holding a book in her hands.

He felt an instant of shame, of guilt, of embarrassment wash over him.

He let go of her, pulling away from her, feeling his heart pounding like mad, terrified that he had gotten completely hard from their momentary closeness.

What was he doing?

He swallowed loudly, feeling like running away, sinking into the ground, disappearing, but he was unable to move.

"I come here often to pray to her to watch over us. Over our whole family. Over you too." She said in the end, and he swallowed silently, staring at the stone floor, unable to look at her, overpowered by shame.

"I'm sorry for what I did to you. I'll never do it again." She whispered and turned away, moving towards the stairs, leaving him with the burning candle.

Since then, she has never startled him again.

Lord Borros celebrated his Name Day sumptuously, inviting first his subordinate lords and vassals to a great feast in Storm's End, and then setting out with his entire retinue for several days hunting in the forest.

He and Royce walked into the great hall together through a side entrance closest their table, set perpendicular to the tables where the other lords and guests were seated.

"I'm sure old Lord Errol and Lord Seaworth will get into a fight again. The wine is bad for their minds and they get mad. I don't understand why Father always seats them so close together." Royce said amused, sitting down in his seat.

His face involuntarily stretched into a smirk at the memory of how Borros had to separate them when Lord Errol started slamming Lord Seaworth's head against the oak table, demanding an apology.

"Were they by any chance companions on one of Father's expeditions?" He asked indifferently as he sat down next to him and swallowed hard noting how the word father had involuntarily slipped from his lips.

Not 'our' father.

Not 'your' father.

Just father, he reassured himself in his head.

It didn't mean anything.

"Yes, they were best companions, but you know how it is. When there's no war they get bored, so they create reasons for themselves to fight." He said with amusement, reaching for his wine-filled cup, taking a sip from it. He nodded his head.

He was unable to describe what kind of relationship he had with Royce – he never acted as if he was lower or higher than him, never let him feel his jealousy of his father, never took it out on him for his failures.

Royce simply accepted his presence on the very first day he appeared in Storm's End, and this state of acceptance continued through the years.

He couldn't imagine spending time with Aegon in the way he did with Royce. Royce, unlike him, knew exactly how much he could drink and when he should tell himself enough.

He did not read as much as he did, however, he was a man of intelligence, like his father often throwing in apt remarks – Royce was a good observer, better than him, so in a way they complemented each other on a daily basis.

He looked around the room – Lord Borros was discussing something with concern with his servant, apparently about the order in which the dishes were served or a problem with the wine, which, after all, could not be lacking in his house.

His gaze traveled further and he swallowed loudly, feeling his heart hit harder when he spotted his youngest daugther conversing with Ellyn, a wide smile and joy on her face, her eyes glowing.

He noticed that she didn't wear gowns like her older sisters who followed fashion of King's Landing – the neckline of her gown did not begin until below her breasts, which were covered only by her undershirt, the sleeves of her gown buff and partly slit, tied with bows from under which the white material of her nightgown shone through, her hair tied in an elaborate braid.

Her attire was so impressive to him because she usually dressed similarly to them whether she was training with them or attended her father's hunts.

Lord Baratheon's other lords and vassals gave her paternal affection, often laughing that Borros had not one son, but three.

Comparisons to men, however, did not take away her confidence, for she seemed to subconsciously understand that all her femininity and girlhood was released when she laughed and smiled, her face always gentle and warm.

He began to notice with frustration that men liked to make speak with her, finding her an interesting and entertaining companion, unafraid of uncomfortable topics. She would occasionally meet his impatient, tense gaze and he would then turn away, tightening his lips, feeling like a fool.

He pretended not to feel relieved and satisfied when, usually after a while, she sat down next to him, turning to him with some question, her knee pressed against his.

He took a deep sip from his cup, looking away.

Lord Borros finally arose and began his speech, thanking those gathered for coming, mentioning some important battles and people, before formally inviting everyone to eat and dance. With music blaring around them, Royce handed him a plate of roast meat that had literally just appeared on the table in front of them.

He tried to pretend he didn't see young Lord Wylde approach Lord Baratheon's youngest daughter asking her to dance, to which she agreed with a soft, wide smile. He tried not to glance surreptitiously as they circled around each other in the dance, her movements nimble, gentle, innocent, her hand barely touching his.

He took another sip of wine, feeling the artery in his throat pulsate, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

He felt relieved when the dance was over and they bowed to each other, but he tensed, however, clenching his hand into a fist as he noticed the young boy leaning over her, whispering something to her ear.

He felt anger.

He felt frustration.

He felt tension.

He tried to reassure himself with the thought that she was innocent and naïve, and he was making sure nothing happened to her, like the good big brother he actually wasn't.

"What happened?" Royce asked, clearly seeing the tension painted on his face, and he grunted low.

"Young lord Wylde seems to have taken a liking to your sister." He said offhandedly, feigning indifference, hoping Royce would take an interest in the matter for him. He, however, blinked, glancing at them, then shrugged his shoulders.

"My sister is wise, she can handle him if he's too insistent. Let her have her fun." He said lightly, taking a sip of wine, finishing off the leftover meat on his plate. He averted his gaze, feeling a squeeze in his stomach at his words.

When he saw out of the corner of his eye Floris standing up from her chair he also immediately stood up, knowing that she was going to torment him by speaking about topics that he was completely uninterested in.

Royce only laughed out loud when he told him he was going to go out into the fresh air for a while, knowing exactly who he was running from.

He went out a side entrance and heard Floris come up behind him, so he changed his plan and instead of the cloisters he headed for the library, knowing that she hadn't peeked in there and certainly wouldn't even stop to look.

He walked into the dark room and climbed the stairs to the half-floor where he always sat when he was a child, sitting down on the ground against the wall, running his hand over his face.

He wondered what was actually happening to him, feeling tired and discouraged.

He knew that eventually he would have to choose one of Borros' daughters to be his wife, but the Lord of Storm's End had let him know that he was to choose from four, not five.

"As I understand it, you will not consider her. She is still so young and childish, she would not do well in the Red Keep or as your wife. You know her nature: it's like locking a wild bird in a cage. For the rest, I am sure you are certainly interested in more mature women." He said and patted him on the shoulder with some expression of masculine tenderness from which he felt a tightening in his throat. He nodded only, unable to look him in the face.

He couldn't admit to him that thoughts of her invaded him at night, when he touched himself, when he fucked himself with his hand.

That he imagined she came to his chamber in the middle of the night, scared, innocent, warm, and he took her, slowly and tenderly, placing wet kisses full of desire and devotion on her soft face, listening to her sweet moans, assuring her that she was safe in his arms.

He squeezed his eye shut at the thought, swallowing loudly, feeling his cock pulsate hard at the thought.

He jumped up terrified when he heard the quiet creak of the door and cursed in his mind thinking that it was Floris who had finally found his hiding place.

However, he saw in the faint light of the torch from the corridor that the figure who was looking up at him from below was wearing a completely different dress.

He felt his heart begin to beat like mad, a cold sweat on the back of his neck.

"Brother?" He heard her quiet, worried voice, she spoke almost in a whisper, as if she was afraid someone would hear her. His voice caught in his throat.

He couldn't get anything out.

Go away, he thought pleadingly, but she stepped inside and closed the door behind her.

She walked slowly upstairs, lifting her gown with her hands to avoid trampling on it, and knelt down next to him on the floor with a loud rustle, her scent immediately hitting his nostrils. He turned his head away, terrified, feeling that he was already completely hard, his chest rising and falling anxiously.

"Are you unwell?" She asked uncertainly, glancing at him, but he didn't dare look at her. He shook his head slowly and heard her swallow quietly.

"Do you want me to leave you alone?" She asked again after a moment, and he pressed his lips together, feeling that his whole body was fighting not to throw himself at her, his breath heavy and anxious.

He answered nothing.

"I missed you." She whispered at last, and he felt a squeeze in his heart, a pain as if someone had stuck a needle in his chest. "When you're gone something is missing. Royce too…"

"Stop it." He growled colder than he would have liked, frustrated and terrified.

"Why are you telling me this?" He asked impatiently, looking at her suddenly, breathing hard, his hand clenched into a fist as if he was about to hit her.

He saw her frightened, warm gaze, saw that she couldn't understand him, what frustrated him and what pleased him.

She swallowed loudly, surprised by his sudden outburst.

"You think I want to listen to this? I'm not your brother. Have you forgotten who I am already? Do you feel better when you forget that you should bow before me?" He exhaled in one breath, feeling the poison gathering in his heart fly out of him like a bloodthirsty wave, drowning everything around them, including her and him.

He felt a pang of remorse as he saw her face contort in pain, as if he had slapped her across the face. She blinked rapidly, tightening her lips, pulling away from him slightly, raising her arms as if in a gesture of defence, her body breathless all over. She swallowed quietly, her mouth quivering as she spoke her next words.

"To me, you will always be my brother." She said in a trembling voice, and he felt anger and hopelessness at her words.

He did not want to be her brother.

Not when she wasn't a Targaryen.

Not when he wanted to fuck her.

She squealed loudly as his hand brutally clamped down on her hair and pulled her close with a sudden movement so that she just slammed into his body, falling over, catching his arms to keep her balance. They both breathed loudly as they stared at each other for a long moment, he felt his head spin from the smell of her.

He felt a shudder pass through him as her hand touched his scarred cheek, his erection swelled painfully hard, leaving him breathless. Shivers ran down the back of his neck as her fingers slid slowly down his skin to his lips, pulsating and swollen. He pulled her face closer, making their foreheads touch.

He glanced at her lips, soft, pink, full, and then again at her eyes, warm, misty, surrounded by her beautiful dark lashes like a veil. His hand inch by inch drew her closer and closer, he could feel her accelerated, hot breath enveloping his face – the tip of his nose ran over her soft cheek and they both trembled, a quiet, sweet sigh escaped her lips, her fingers ran down his cheek.

When his lips brushed hers they both froze, looking at each other with misty eyes, breathing loudly. He waited for her reaction, for her to pull away, to shake her head and tell him no, but she didn't move an inch, her whole body quivered, her mouth parted as if invitingly, encouragingly. He leaned towards her, his thirsty, puffy lips pressed against hers, soft, fleshy, wonderfully moist.

She whispered his name quietly, and he kissed her again, each time more surely, more deeply, drawing her closer, her hand tightening on his cheek. Their hot, swollen lips danced with each other with a sticky, wet clicks that sent shivers through him, his free arm hugging her waist and pulling her closer, forcing her to sit on his lap.

They both panted into each other's mouths feeling their hands travel uncertainly over their bodies, his fingertips touching hair, the nape of her neck, her cheeks, her waist, repeating it all over again.

His manhood twitched in his breeches so hard that once in a while a low, helpless groan of pleasure ripped from his throat straight into her mouth, her lips responding timidly to his caresses, her hand trailing through his hair and down his neck.

Aroused to the limit, with a pounding heart, he tentatively slipped the tip of his tongue into her parted lips as if to see how she would react, whether it would be too much. He felt her tremble all over and draw in a loud breath, her fingers clenching tighter on his hair.

He repeated the flicks of his moist tongue and got the same wonderful reaction out of her – he moaned loudly when he felt tips of their tongues come into contact and lick, a strong shudder ran through his body, his hands tightening on the material of her gown.

They both flinched and pulled away immediately, looking at each other in horror when they heard someone grab the doorknob and then the door swung open with a loud creak. They both stood up, swallowing loudly, noticing Royce who was frowning through the lack of light and only saw them on the balcony a moment later.

"I've been looking everywhere for you. What are you doing here?" He asked surprised and amused, seeing their faces.

"I felt unwell. The wine made me sick." He choked out wearily, avoiding her, feeling like his heart was about to leap out of his chest, running down the stairs.

"I'm better now, let's go." He said, stepping out into the corridor, trying to stop his body from shaking and the sights he saw before his eyes.

He was glad his tunic was long enough to cover what was going on inside his breeches.

Her soft lips pressed against his, her hand in his hair, her flowery, fresh scent, her warm breath, her tongue licking his.

He swallowed loudly, stepping back into the great hall, immediately bombarded with questions from Floris as to where he had gone for so long. He didn't answer her, sidestepping her, sitting down in his seat, taking a few deep sips of wine to calm himself.

What had he done?

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

What if she tells Royce? Or Father?

He ran his hand over his chin at that thought, feeling a tightening in his stomach, glancing nervously at the entrance.

He thought Borros would kill him if he found out.

A moment later, she and Royce also walked into the room, her face pale, though she tried to smile.

She didn't tell him, he thought with relief.

Their gazes met and he immediately looked away, feeling her soft, wet tongue between his lips again, his cock throbbed painfully in his breeches, demanding to be relieved at last.

Never before had he come so quickly fucking himself with his own hand as he had that evening – the loud, low groan of relief and delight that broke from his throat was silenced by the pillow into which he pressed his face, his body trembling in spasms. He involuntarily whispered her name as he slowly came down from his peak, his eye tightened, a quiet panting came from his mouth.

He was disgusted with himself and what he had done.

He was disgusted at how pleasant it felt.

She was so innocent.

In the morning he felt crushed by remorse, by the fact that he had frightened her, that she herself did not know what had happened between them.

That she thought for certain he wanted to take advantage of her, to profit from the pleasure of her body and nothing more.

He knew she would go hunting with them, she always went, helping Borros instead of his servants.

He did not know how he would look her in the face.

He decided he would try to go to Lord Borros and convince him somehow to let him stay in the fortress.

"This is time for you and your children." He said to him, Lord Borros' servant was just helping him put on a tunic of thicker, warmer material designed for being outside in cold temperatures. Borros snorted at his words.

"My four daughters are staying and that I can understand, but you? Both my sons are to participate in the hunt." He said more commanding than stating. He looked at him, pretending to feel nothing at his words.

"I am not your son."

Borros pressed his lips together at his words – he waved his hand impatiently and ordered the servant to leave them alone. After a moment, the door closed behind him and a tense silence fell between them. Borros looked at him, wrinkling his wide, dark brows.

"You are not my son by blood, but I raised you. I made you a man. You and Royce are to come with me. Do you understand?" He asked low and clear, with the impatience characteristic of him when he was frustrated. He swallowed loudly and nodded his head.

You are not my son by blood, but I raised you.

I made you a man.

He did not want to admit to himself how much relief he felt at his words.

He no longer knew who he was and who he wasn't.

A dragon prince would never be an mere stag.

However, why was it that whenever Borros spoke in his presence he felt a respect and awe for him that made him unable to stand up to him?

That he didn't remind him of who he was, how he should address him?

Part of him wanted to be Royce's brother, wanted to be Borros Baratheon's son.

But he also wanted something else.

Someone else.

He wondered, riding his mount beside Royce through the dense forest whether she would agree if he asked for her hand.

Would she give up everything she loved for him and leave with him to the Red Keep, to the inheritance that was his by blood and law.

He swallowed quietly, ashamed of the direction his thoughts were taking.

He was desperate.

When they arrived in the field where the large tents slowly floated, he spotted her from afar, speaking quickly with his father about something. He lowered his head, terrified, dismounting from his horse, thinking only of what he had done the night before.

However, as Borros approached them in her company, he began to speak about where they would be going and what they were hunting, his voice focused and pleased with the weather and the fact that it was not raining.

He swallowed loudly, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. She turned her head away as soon as she noticed he was looking at her.

She didn't tell him, he thought with relief and regret at the same time.

Perhaps if he found out the truth and required an explanation, he would have the courage to take her for himself and demand her hand.

He was not surprised when Borros ordered that all three of them and a few companions from his old days would accompany him on a deer hunt.

His youngest daughter was, as usual, armed with a bow, much to her father's delight hitting a partridge from long distances. Borros patted her firmly on the back so that she bent under the powerful strokes of his broad palm.

"Very good." He said lightly, walking on, ordering them to move north. He saw her give him a quick glance and then immediately turn her head away, tightening her lips, all red, and run after her father.

The hunt was a success and they returned to camp with enough meat to feed all comers. Large bonfires were lit in front of the tents, the cooks skinning and quartering the animals before his eyes. Royce and he sat down under one of the trees, exhausted.

Royce called out to his sister when he spotted her from afar to rest with them, and he felt a twist in his stomach, looking away, feigning indifference.

His younger sister approached them uncertainly, trying to converse lightly with her brother about something, her hands clenched on her lap. After a moment, Borros called out to his son from a distance, saying that he needed his help, so he got up at once and ran towards him, leaving them alone.

They both turned their heads away, unable to look at each other, a protracted, uncomfortable silence all around them.

He looked at the sun setting in the distance which he could see between the trees, feeling his heart pounding hard.

It seemed to him that what had happened between them earlier in the night was just a figment of his imagination.

"I will not disturb you, my Prince." She said in pain, lifting herself from the grass, and he looked at her surprised, his jaw clenched in a held breath at her words as he watched her walk away.

My Prince.

When Royce returned he told him he needed to drink some wine.

He drank more than usual, watching her from afar like a predator, seeing her cast him an uncertain, frightened glance once in a while.

He was frustrated and full of anger that he didn't know what to do with.

He decided to go to bed early, drunk, tired and discouraged. Royce urged him to stay up, that the campfires would burn late into the night, but he had neither the strength nor the desire to feast.

He moved towards his tent and went inside, slowly undoing the buckles of his tunic, pulling it off and throwing it indifferently on the grass beside his bed.

He heard someone come inside and thought it was his servant, so he loudly dismissed him, but the person who had walked inside did not move from his place.

"− brother −" He heard her quiet, uncertain voice and froze, his body went through a shiver.

He turned slowly to her over his shoulder, his gaze expressing shock – his mind was foggy, his hands involuntarily clenched into fists.

"What are you doing here?" He asked coldly. She swallowed loudly, her large, warm eyes full of terror and uncertainty.

She opened and closed her mouth several times but nothing came out of her throat, she rubbed her fingers against each otehr in a nervous gesture.

"− I − what happened yesterday −" She mumbled out, but he interrupted her in mid-sentence afraid of what she wanted to say.

"− forget about it −" He replied, turning away from her, untying the his breeches, wanting to get rid of them before lying down on the sheets. "− something else? −"

She turned her head away, embarrassed and hurt by his words and what he was doing, swallowing loudly, her brow furrowed as if in pain.

"− I want you to know that I won't tell anyone about this − that's all −" She whispered turning away and walked out, leaving him with a pounding heart and a feeling of overwhelming shame.

He ran his hand over his face and, in a gesture of anger, threw all his dishes off the table, which fell to the ground with a loud clang of steel.

Why did it have to be her?

He put his palms on the table, leaning his head forward, unable to calm himself, breathing loudly through his mouth.

Why couldn't it be Ellyn?

She was sweet, pretty, modest, well-read, quiet.

So why?

He came out of his tent like a living fury and stormed aggressively into her tent, heard her squeal of surprise as she jumped up on her bed, covering herself with a furs, sitting up in only her nightgown.

She looked up at him with her mouth open and her eyes wide as he ripped the furs from her hands, revealing her body peeking out from under the thin white material in front of him, her breath caught in her throat as he lay down on top of her, pressing her body against the bedding, his cock twitching hard between her thighs.

"− brother − what are you −" She whispered terrified, shivering all over, clasping her hands on his shirt.

"− tell me to stop −" He breathed out grabbing her trembling thighs in his hands, lifting them slightly and spreading them out in front of him, panting along with her, looking at her face full of disbelief. "− tell me to stop or I'll take what I want −"

He said in a raspy voice, his tongue invading between her swollen lips bringing out a helpless, drawn-out, surprised moan, her hands still clenched on the material of his shirt. He ran his hard, throbbing manhood hidden under the material between her thighs and she trembled all over, whimpering into his mouth.

He pulled away from her with a loud, wet click, looking at her like a madman, panting loudly along with her, parting her lower lip with his thumb, his hips rolling against her body in a slow back and forth motion.

"− say it −" He whispered weakly, looking down at her, her face flushed and red, her lips parted in a ragged breath, a quiet moan came from her mouth each time he rubbed against her womanhood again.

"− please, make me stop − please −" He growled out helplessly, but her lips only parted more at his words, her thighs spread wider in front of him, her soft hand running over his hot cheek.

He squeezed his eye shut, feeling her lower lip brush his, her hips tentatively began to respond to his movements, rubbing against him, driving him wild. He felt like he was about to explode.

"− please −" He panted into her mouth, the tips of their tongues licking each other, a sweet, lingering mewl came from her lips. His trembling hands slid from her thigh to her buttocks, squeezing them uncertainly, he sighed in delight feeling how indecently soft her skin was.

"− please − please −" He gasped in a trembling voice, but her hands weaved into his hair and drew him closer, her fingers trailing down his neck, slipping under his shirt, running over his bare back, leaving goosebumps in the areas of her touch. They both began to moan quietly and pant into each other's mouths, their kisses messy and loud, wet, sticky from their saliva.

"− marry me −" He exclaimed helplessly, lifting her nightgown higher, revealing to him the bare skin of her thigh and what lay between them. Slowly he slid his hand there, trembling along with her, her body quivering at his words, a loud sigh escaping her lips.

"− say you'll marry me −" He whispered, running his nose over her cheek, sliding down to her ear and then to her neck, placing slow, wet kisses on her skin. They both moaned helplessly as his fingers ran over her fleshy, slick folds, so intimately hidden, so now exposed, her expression of complete trust in him.

He sighed wearily when he felt her moisture on his fingers, warm and sticky, again and again running his hand over her puffy slit, her skin there hot, pulsing with heat. He felt her fingers tighten on his back, writhing beneath him each time his palm ran over the little bud hidden between her folds, a helpless sob escaping from her throat, her lips parted wide, droplets of sweat running down her skin.

"− Aemond −" She whimpered pleadingly, as if she were crying out to him for help, as if she were asking him to save her. He trembled all over at the sound of his name spoken so directly, so unashamedly, intimately, he felt as if his cock would explode with arousal.

He began to deliberately stroke her where his touch was driving her mad, his fingertips spreading her moisture all over her plushy womanhood, his swollen lips clinging to hers again, trying to silence her increasingly loud moans.

"− hush, my little one − someone will hear us − shhh −" He silenced her by sliding his tongue deep between her lips, almost to her throat, her hips began to rock faster and faster towards his hand, searching for any source of friction.

"− Aemond − what are we doing −" She mumbled quietly between sticky kisses and the licking of their tongues, his fingers massaging area around her pearl in a circular, sure motions, running over her hot entrance once in a while. He tentatively slid the tip of his finger into her throbbing, moist insides, and she trembled all over, drawing in air loudly.

"− what husband and wife do − what we're going to do every night −" He breathed out into her mouth and a quiet, sweet, surprised moan escaped her throat, he felt her wetness flowing from her slit into his palm, he felt her body on edge, her thighs were quivering all under his hand, her hips pushing greedily against his hand. He slid his finger into her with a wet click of her juices as his thumb continued to tease her puffy bud.

"− I − gods, it feels so warm − it tickles me so much inside −" She mewled, panting loudly, clearly feeling the tension gathering in her lower abdomen, and he thought with delight that she was about to come on his hand.

"− say you'll marry me −" He said in a raspy voice, watching as her body wriggled in front of him him in pleasure, her mouth wide open, her eyes looking at him in a way from which he felt like just throwing himself on top of her and sliding inside her.

"− I will − I will, please −" She cried out and suddenly froze, leaning back, pressing her cheek against the pillow.

An exasperated, pleading, startled moan erupted from her throat, she clenched her eyes shut as if what was just going through her body was too much − waves of pleasure shook her body, and he watched the sight in disbelief, seeing female fulfilment for the first time in his life.

His hand involuntarily slipped out from between her thighs and slid into his breeches, gripping his painfully hard erection. He forced her to look up at him by clamping his hand over her cheeks and he pressed himself into her lips, panting along with her, squeezing his fat cock intensely and quickly. He felt his fulfilment approaching embarrassingly fast, her scent, the touch of her lips and what he saw was enough to keep him on edge.

"− my sweetest − gods − oh, fuck −" He growled out into her mouth panting hard as he felt his hot spend spill over his hand, a wonderful relief and pleasure filled his whole body and lower abdomen − he could hear her loud breathing, her hand gently stroking his hair and cheek, calming him, soothing him.

He collapsed on top of her at last, panting hard, not believing it had really happened.

They lay like that, both of them breathing loudly, not saying a word, all around them the voices of drunken men arguing with each other and discussing loudly. He could feel their bodies trembling, hot with fulfilment − he pressed his face to her cheek, his lips against her ear.

"− do you want me to leave? −" He asked in a trembling voice, terrified of what he had done, what she would think of him now, what their father would think if he found out. He felt her small hands tightening on his shirt, her hand running through his hair.

"Stay with me."

So he stayed.

When he woke up, her warm body was snuggled against his chest, her fingers tightened on the material of his shirt as if she was afraid he would change his mind and leave her in the middle of the night.

He embraced her with his hands, his face snuggled into her hair, his nose filled with her wonderful scent.

He had never felt so fulfilled before.

So peaceful.

So safe.

He only gently disentangled himself from her sleeping embrace before dawn, not wanting anyone to see him leaving her tent and jump to hasty conclusions.

He also needed to speak to their father.

He had never before seen Lord Borros so furious as when he told him he had made his choice.

His foster father prowled around the tent like an enraged animal as he sat in a chair, tense, playing with his fingers.

"She's just a child. I thought you had more sense." Borros hissed at him, and he threw him a cold, displeased look.

"She is no longer a child. Would you rather she married a stranger instead of giving her to me? To your son?" He asked, his voice trembling uncertainly at his last words. Borros looked at him furrowing his eyebrows.

"I will not hurt her. She will be safe with me." He said calmly what he really thought. Borros snorted at his words.

"In King's Landing, between one fire-breathing dragon and another fighting for crown and power? I don't want to see my youngest child perish in the flames of Targaryen greed!" He exclaimed in a low breaking voice, and he felt a pain in his chest, swallowing loudly, taken completely by surprise by his words.

I don't want to see my youngest child perish in the flames of Targaryen greed.

"It's her or none, Father." He said coldly, clenching his hands into fists, not looking away even though he wanted to.

He heard Borros growl with rage, furiously turning to his servant to summon his youngest daughter at once.

He felt discomfort at the thought that perhaps she had changed her mind.

That she had only agreed under emotions, and now regretted it.

He was unable to look at her when he heard her walk into the tent, Borros immediately turned to her, his voice raised and impatient.

"Prince Aemond asks for your hand, daughter. Did you know about this?" He asked menacingly, referring to all the confusion he had caused with his decision. He felt his heart pounding as he waited for her words, his hands clenched into fists.

"Yes. I...I have already agreed." She whispered so quietly that he barely heard it. He swallowed loudly glancing at her finally, she was pale and frightened, looking at her father pleadingly, terrified of his anger.

"You have no idea what you agreed to, child." He said, half furious, half terrified, running his hand over his face, shaking his head, still pacing around the tent, unable to control himself.

"I do not want anyone else." She mumbled with difficulty, looking pleadingly at her father on the verge of tears. He felt heat in his chest at her words and pressed his lips together.

I do not want anyone else.

Without opposition from his daughter, Borros really had no choice. When they confirmed several times that they knew what they were doing and that it was what they wanted, he gave up, heartbroken, and ordered to summon a scribe, wanting to send a letter to King's Landing.

Neither he nor she had the courage to tell anyone what had happened.

Word of his decision spread like wildfire, however, and he had to deal with a barrage of questions from Royce, shocked and unsure if he was doing the right thing.

"But why her, brother? She is so young. I mean…I was sure you'd choose Ellyn." He said, scratching his chin, just as embarrassed as he was by this conversation. He didn't know what to say to him.

"I think I knew it from the beginning." He muttered, running his hand over his face in shame, all tense, glancing at Royce, who stared at him in disbelief.

His reaction was nothing compared to the despair and bitterness that gripped his sisters.

Cassandra took it best, with dignity, though her face twisted in pain as their father informed them of his decision at the evening feast. Maris turned pale and pursed her lips, but said nothing. Ellyn let out a loud, breaking sob, got up and left, unable to look at him.

Floris asked if he was mocking them.

He looked at his betrothed, pale and on the verge of tears, weighed down by what was happening around her, by what he had condemned her to.

"The King and Queen have decided that the nuptials will take place in two months." Their father continued, ignoring his daughter's brazen questions. Floris interrupted him again.

"My Prince, is it true? Did our father force you to make this decision?" She asked in disbelief, it was clearly beyond her mind that he could make such a decision of his own free will. He took a sip of wine from his goblet and set it down with a loud clang of steel.

"Quite the opposite. Your father tried to dissuade me from this decision, to no avail." He said coldly, his eye fixed on the one he desired, the one he chose – she looked at him, her eyes sad and terrified.

He pressed his lips greedily to hers, pinning her against the cool stone wall of the corridor as soon as they were alone, wiping tears from her face as they ran down her cheeks, absorbing her every silent sob.

"Tell me you haven't changed your mind." He gasped into her mouth, brushing them and caressing them with a loud, sticky clicks. She threw her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with such ferocity that he moaned low into her throat.

It was her answer.

To his relief, his betrothed wished their lives to go on as before – she didn't make him take romantic walks together on the cliff's edge, didn't expect flowers, letters, or other evidence of constant interest and love from him. Everything she wanted she could see in his gaze, which did not leave her for a moment.

Affection.

Thirst.

Desire.

He didn't have the courage to tell her how much he already wanted her all to himself, how much he wanted her to be the mother of his children.

He couldn't find the words to describe the heat and pride that overwhelmed him at the thought that she would be his wife, that he would be able to touch her shamelessly in front of everyone.

That he would be able to pick her up, embrace her, lean over her, touch her warm cheeks and hands the way Royce did.

No one but them knew that they both sneaked out of their chambers late at night and went to the library, shutting themselves up there, slowly discovering the pleasures and secrets of their bodies. He let her small hands slide his eyepatch off his head, let her place warm, tender kisses on his scar, holding her close.

They lay down on sheets and fabrics that they had scrupulously hidden under one of the shelves behind the books, finding lying on the stone floor very uncomfortable.

He did not dare to pull off her nightgown, wanting to show her respect and make her feel safe, but the mere sight of her naked body through the translucent material was enough to stimulate his senses completely and drive him mad.

He let himself kiss her soft, plump breasts through the thin fabric and she let out sweet sighs of delight every time, her hand stroking his hair as she pressed his face closer to her chest, signalling him not to stop.

He had no experience with women before her, so he wanted to understand exactly what gave her fulfillment, what touch or movement of his fingers made her spasm, what his words whispered in her ear made her suddenly come on his hand with a sweet sobs of pleasure.

He felt embarrassed and aroused when she whispered to him one night if she could touch him there.

Their lips connected and parted in sticky, lustful kisses as her trembling fingers untied his breeches, timidly slipping her hand underneath them. They both froze and inhaled loudly as her fingers traced againt his long, throbbing length, a low, helpless, guttural moan escaping his lips.

"− fuck −" He gasped into her mouth, surprised at how intense the sensation was, how pleasantly soft and gentle her hand felt.

He saw her timid gaze fixed on his face, her cheeks red with shame at what she was doing, at the feeling of his hard, twitching cock under her fingers.

"− do you want me to stop? −" She asked softly between their tender, sweet kisses.

He responded by taking her hand gently in his, squeezing her fingers around his manhood, guiding her up and down, his erection throbbing painfully hard in her embrace.

"− no −" He whispered in response, panting with her, his hips involuntarily rolling to the rhythm of her hand, searching for any source of rubbing.

"− how will it look like − on our wedding night? −" She asked softly, her voice slightly trembling, looking at him with dreamy eyes, what she was doing apparently aroused her as much as him.

His cock pulsed harder in her hand at her question, leaking from his precum − he licked his lips involuntarily, imagining what he would be able to do with her.

He didn't know how to describe it without scaring her.

"− I − ah − I'm going to touch you between your thighs − and then −" He gasped, pressing his lips together, feeling shivers all over his body, his hips rocking faster and faster in her hand, which squeezed his thick cock with a steady, firm strokes.

"− fuck − and then I'll put this inside you −" He whispered in a shaky voice into her mouth as he pressed his forehead against hers, gripping his hand tighter over hers on his erection.

He heard her draw in a sharp breath, she stared at him wide-eyed, unsure of what she thought of what she had just heard.

"− will it be painful? −" She asked with fear, and he kissed her again, slipping his slick tongue between her fleshy lips, drawing a soft moan from her. He broke away with a wet click, looking at her with his mouth slightly parted, feeling the heat and tension growing in his lower abdomen.

"− no − I − I'll do anything to not cause you pain −" He mumbled helplessly, their lips pressed together again in a lewd, sticky kiss, her breath heavy and uneven.

"− can you − can you do it now? − just for a try −" She whispered softly and he froze, staring at her in disbelief, his heart pounding like crazy.

"− I − we shouldn't before our nuptials −" He muttered hesitantly, though his whole body was screaming for him to throw himself at her and just slide it inside her. She swallowed loudly at his words.

"− I know − I just − I wish I knew what it felt like − so I wouldn't be afraid −" She mumbled helplessly and his heart clenched, a million of his thoughts fighting together at the same time in his head. He propped himself up on one elbow, laying between her thighs, gripping the fabric of his breeches.

"− just for a moment − agreed? −" He said in a trembling voice, his whole body quivering. She nodded quickly, breathing heavily, trustingly allowing him to lift the fabric of her nightgown higher.

They both gasped loudly as he slid his breeches down enough to release his hard, throbbing manhood. He leaned over her soft, warm face, placing a gentle, tender kiss on her lips, directing the fat, pink head of his cock to her wet, throbbing slit.

"− spread your thighs wider − yes, just like that −" He praised her, brushing her lips again, terrified of what he was about to do, yet feeling like he was about to explode with lust and desire.

They both moaned in surprise as he pressed his length against her entrance and slid a little inside her − she was so tight and hot that he was out of breath, her lips tightened, as he forced his way deeper into her harder, her eyebrows arching in discomfort.

"− fuck − breathe deeply − relax − does it hurt a lot? −" He whispered in a trembling voice looking at her, with remnants of his free will refraining from any movements. She shook her head.

"− n-no − I mean − a little − just − it's so big −" She mumbled out, a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, her gaze warm, her lips puffy and pink with emotion. He licked his lips involuntarily at her words, feeling pride and shame at the same time.

"− you did this to me − always make me so fucking hard −" He exhaled in a trembling voice, his hands sliding down between her thighs, gently parting the folds of her entrance with his thumbs, trying to help himself and her. He felt her draw in a loud breath and clench her eyes shut.

He heard her swallow hard and begin to breathe loudly through her mouth, inhaling and exhaling, her body shivering all over under him. He felt her walls stop pressing down on him so panicky, and he pushed deeper into her, sighing loudly, her mouth parting wide at the feeling of so intense filling. Hearing no objection from her, he thrust his hips again, entering her all the way in with a loud groan.

He stared down at her, breathing hard, letting her get used to this strange, intense feeling, and then he pulled out slowly only to thrust into her again. They both gasped loudly as he began to move inside her, slowly, hesitantly, telling himself he would stop soon.

"− you're so warm −" He panted in a trembling voice, delighted at how amazing it felt to be squeezed from all sides by her hot, tight, fleshy wet walls, all sticky with her moisture, feeling a woman's insides for the first time in his life.

Her mouth parted wide and she mewled loudly as slowly his hips began to accelerate, thrusting his thick cock into her with a loud, sticky slaps, a quivering, low gasp of pleasure emanating from his throat.

"− Aemond −" She mumbled helplessly, her body trembling with each of his thrusts, panting louder and louder with him, her hands clenching on his sides. He threw her legs over his back, wanting to feel her deeper, streching her throbbing insides to the limit with his length. She sobbed loudly at the feeling, throwing her head back.

"− just a little longer −" He panted with difficulty, feeling only pleasure, only wonderful tension and her pulsing walls that brought him closer and closer to fulfillment.

He knew he should stop, but instead he fucked her harder and harder, feeling her walls clenching on his cock, sucking it inside, sticky, wet sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the stone room.

He knew he was on the verge of fullfilment.

"− don't stop − please, don't pull it out −" He heard her whimper underneath him from which his lips parted wide in shock, her body going into spasms each time he slid into her again, pressing her walls, clearly giving her immense pleasure with these movements.

A helpless groan ripped from his throat at her words, as he slammed into her with a sharp, quick thrusts, clamping his hands tightly on the soft, sweaty skin of her hips. He felt a shudder run through him as her hips began to respond to his thrusts, coming up to meet him.

"− I have to, little one − shhh −" He whispered into her mouth sliding his tongue between her lips, licking their swollen, fleshy texture, the taste of her saliva spreading across his palate like the sweetest juice.

"− I − I'm about to −" She mumbled with difficulty, her thighs responding greedily to his every thrust, rolling and rocking, as he panted loudly along with her, feeling her core begin to tighten and pulsate against him.

"− go on − come on my cock, sweet girl −" He cooed encouragingly, wanting nothing more than that, to see her fulfil, himself being on the edge, his thrusts messy and sloppy.

His words were enough to make her insides clench around his length tightly, then again and again, letting out of him an almost animalistic groan, her body leaning back as if trying to escape from him. He had to cover her mouth with his hand to silence her loud, high-pitched sobs.

"− you did so well − oh fuck, little one −" He growled out, with the remnants of his strong will sliding out of her, coming hard on her nightgown, his warm seed spilling over her nightgown while he was still squeezing himself with his hand.

She stared at him with wide eyes, breathing heavily, her whole body trembled from the fulfilment and waves of pleasure that continued to flow through her. He swallowed loudly, looking down at her with misty eye, licking his lips.

"− did it hurt? −" He asked in a shaky, low voice, and she blinked and pursed her lips in embarrassment.

"− only − only at the beginning −" She mumbled softly and he hummed under his breath, proud to see that he had given her pleasure, that she enjoyed what they had done as much as he did, and tied his breeches back up.

He leaned over her and brushed her lips gently, tenderly, her mouth swollen and wet with arousal − he ran his thumb over her hot, rosy cheek, looking at her with a pounding heart filled only with his affection for her.

Only with love.

"On our wedding night, not a drop will be wasted."

_____

Note from the author:

Lady Baratheon and Royce call Aemond brother, but this stems from their desire to shorten the distance between them. Calling him 'a prince' already seemed too staid at one point for them, and addressing him by his first name was unthinkable. However, it is only she and Royce who do this, their sisters still addressing him as 'my prince', not wanting to call "brother" their possibly future husband - which is why Aemond is so frustrated when Lady Baratheon calls him this, as if she is willfully rejecting him as a candidate for the role.

Aemond calls Borros "father" but does not see him as a replacement for Viserys. Viserys is his blood father, who has given him a legacy of which he is proud and with which he completely identifies. Borros, however, is a father figure to him, someone whose opinion Aemond counts with, whom he respects and values for what he has done for him over the years. Aemond has an affection for Borros that he was never able to develop towards Criston.

Despite Lady Baratheon and Royce's very close relationship, they did not relegate Aemond to the background or distance themselves from him. According to Lord Borros and his friends, they formed a trio. Royce was always where Aemond was, loving to watch his mischievous reactions to various events, and Lady Baratheon was always where Royce was, so they usually ended up together.

Aemond usually pretended he didn't care about their company, but the truth was that he got impatient when they disappeared from his sight for too long, simply getting bored without them.

Part two of this oneshot: To desire, to love, to care

Other oneshot form the same AU: Daugther, Lover, Sister

_____

I can't express my love for this reality, I could keep writing this oneshot but I would make a book! This is probably my most beloved fanfic baby. Leave it some love if you enjoyed it! I'm so curious what do you think. 💐

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Taglist

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[lemonhemlock]

the latest theory going around about daeron on twitter is what if the show genderswaps him into a daughter. I wouldn't be upset about this except for the fact that a lot of stuff we know would make even less sense if this were true. I wouldn't be truly happy knowing full well the writers will never address certain things like oh i don't know...why isn't fem daeron married? And if she is...why wasn't aemond chosen as her husband? Or why didn't rhaenyra propose a match between her and jace since they're closer in age?

Making daeron a girl would bring up more questions than answers IMO

I will say fem daeron makes for a good scenario in au fics at least..

But anyway I don't think it's gonna happen at all and people are just dying for casting news lol.

i agree, i think fem!daeron can be interesting in fic, but, as it stands, it would cause more plotholes than it would solve if they genderswapped him in the show

the reason why i'm not super invested in pre-production & filming news is that we're always going to get incomplete information and it just seems silly to me to dedicate energy and mental space to theories like this when most of the time no one even knows for sure what they're talking about

like, i acknowledge it could be fun sometimes so no judgment, but some fans actually seem to panic and worry over stuff like this when it's really not that serious. we could just very well not know who plays daeron yet because not everything leaks or maybe they haven't even filmed oldtown scenes yet

[syndrossi]

Something I would love for Reversal!AU is a) Daemon going EVEN MORE SPARE when he hears the 'pillow princesses' song in this timeline, and also B) freaking out more about what might have befallen his two daughters while they were alone with a grown male kidnapper. Honestly, he's probably relieved they aren't flowered yet, because that makes it less likely that they would be raped by Crayne - and when he hears that Crayne kept Rhaella close the fear would be even worse.

Also, in regards to Jon's name in reversal!AU - while Daeron and Aemon/D are already taken, that doesn't actually stop Jeyne from choosing a female version of one of those names...and if she does... The female version of Aemon is...Aemma. Also, if she does pick Visenya, Viserys is going to remember how Rhaenyra was determined to have a sister/daughter and name her Visenya, and honestly so is Rhaenyra, and they are both going to look at Daemon as the one who named his daughters - honestly, everyone who knows about Rhaenyra and the name Visenya are going to be looking at Daemon's daughters named Visenya and Rhaella and be all 'wow, he really loves Rhaenyra.'

I'm pretty sure Daemon just kills that singer in Reversal AU. In Resonant, he knows (he hopes?) that they were not harmed by Crayne in that manner, and he also understands that it would be both wasteful and suicidal for the Triarchy to have ambitions of that kind with his sons. But with daughters? It probably speaks to his deeper fears about Volantis's intentions for his twins.

And as gross as it is, the girls' maidenheads are important commodities in this culture, so I'm guessing that the Grand Maester, uh, has them examined to ensure that they're intact after their captivity, to both the twins' and Daemon's own horror. (He does get some small relief at the confirmation that they were not defiled by Crayne.)

Aww, Aemma is actually a rather sweet dark horse contender for a name for Jon. (Honestly, there are some great female Targaryen names, including many of Daemon's aunts' names! Viserra and Daella. Heh, they could be Rhaella and Daella! Alongside the more traditional names like Daenerys/Daenys, or the spurned Visenya.)

[prettymuchteddy]

Dragon-Shifter Rhaenicent AU Lore

Original AU is this post for context

Despite the fact that they had come to Dragonstone two hundred years following the Doom of Valyria, the name Targaryen was not one known by the people of Westeros. House Targaryen was the only family of dragonlords to escape the Doom with the blood running through their veins giving them the ability to change from man to dragon. The people of Westeros had seen dragons flying above the sky on the island but no one dared to get close. Over time, that became the story, dragons lived on the isolated island. No men. Just dragons.

The humans in Westeros have thus given names to the dragons they have spotted over the years, unaware of the other form laying in wait underneath the scales.

Rhaenyra Targaryen is the eldest of her father, Viserys, the self-proclaimed king of Dragonstone. Her mother died in childbirth when she was quite young. Her father's hasty marriage only a few months later caused her to run away, during this period many humans reported sightings of her near Oldtown. The realm knows her as a somewhat small curious yellow dragon named Syrax.

Aegon Targaryen is the eldest son of Viserys, king of Dragonstone. He and his younger siblings are the product of Viserys' second marriage to a human woman. While rare, these unions would take place if no other female dragons were alive. Aegon has rarely flown to the seven kingdoms in years after his mother's death. The realm knows him only as a beautiful golden dragon named Sunfyre.

Helaena Targaryen is the second daughter of Viserys Targaryen of Dragonstone. While her mother was human, Helaena is the only Targaryen who has the gift of prophecy, a rare but valued trait in dragons, though there are times she keeps these prophecies to herself for unknown reasons. The realm knows her as a quiet pale blue dragon named Dreamfyre.

Aemond Targaryen is the second son of the king of Dragonstone, Viserys. During a flight, a then-young Aemond was attacked and shot in the eye with an arrow, the injury left him without an eye in his human form, as a dragon he kept his eye intact but is still blind in it. The people of the realm fear him as a massive disgruntled dragon named Vhagar.

Daeron Targaryen is the youngest child of King Viserys Targaryen. Unlike his siblings, he doesn't remember his human mother and this fuels his curiosity about humans. He and his half-sister Rhaenyra venture to the realm most often compared to the others in House Targaryen. Humans know him as the swift cobalt blue dragon, Tessarion.

Viserys Targaryen is the fifth king of the Targaryen dynasty in Dragonstone, while his ancestors came two centuries ago they had not cemented themselves into the world of man until Aegon the 1st. Viserys took the Lady Aemma to wed but following her death in childbirth, he swiftly stole away a lady from the reach to marry. The decision came at the cost of his relationship with his eldest child, Rhaenyra, and the death of his second wife after years of being miserable, cost him his relationship with his other children. He has not been named by the realm as he has not been spotted by humans.

[crescenthoax]

a nightmare before Christmas • pt2

🎄or an Annika, Floris, Willa and Targtowers Christmas tale🌟

Part One

Part two

Part three

Summary: Aemond, Daeron, Aegon and Helaena had different things planned for Christmas, but one same fate: their father’s old cabin.

Basically an i’m never gonna love again christmas modern AU because we need to spread some joy on these times and I wanted to write something fun. Mainly centred around Aegon x Female OC.

Part 2/3. Part 3.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

“I can't believe you convinced me to do this,” says Aegon, shaking his head. “I don't need no game nor excuse to get wasted.”

“Oh, come on. We’re all going to play,” Helaena tells him, amused. “Even Aemond.”

It translates easily to: ‘You can't be more boring than him.’

It’s not that Aemond is the boring type, in fact, he's just so reserved and responsible that he's gotten used to having fun in other ways. But everyone has seen him drink whiskey as easily as soda and smile as if he had two hooks on his face and scarlet–flushed cheeks while dancing during Annika's New Year's party on the yacht in 2019.

Everyone sits in a circle around the coffee table in the huge living room. Logan stirs some logs in the fireplace, trying to revive the flames before sitting down between Helaena and Annika on the couch. Aegon is sprawled on one of the individual and comfy, green velveteen chairs, just like Aemond on the other, and Floris sits with Willa and Daeron on the other couch.

“So, does everyone know how this works?” Annika asks, finishing pouring herself a glass of white wine. On the table, there is an exaggerated amount of drinks to choose from. “Someone says something, and if you've done it, you drink. If you haven't, you don't. It's simple.”

“Never have I ever explained a game we all know just to seem smart,” Aegon laughs. “And now you drink.”

She sighs and takes a sip of wine after flipping him off. So much for the ‘truce.’

“Logan, why don't you start? That way, we can get to know you better,” Annika insists.

He feels a bit pressured with the number of new and curious looks around him, but he seems to handle it wonderfully. “Hmm. Never have I ever... been to a party I wasn't invited to.”

“Easy!” Aegon singsongs and drinks from his beer. Daeron, Logan himself, Annika, and Helaena follow suit. Surprisingly to everyone, Floris also drinks, drawing attention. “Are you kidding me?”

“Why do you sound surprised?” She shakes her head, pretending to be offended. “Never have I ever gone skinny dipping.”

“I love the new Floris,” Aegon mocks, drinking. “Singleness agrees with you.”

Everyone drinks this time, except for Annika and Daeron, and she gets some skeptical looks. She puts her feet up on the couch to get more comfortable, her black ballet flats shining even brighter than the Christmas tree. “What? I find it unhygienic.”

“Never have I ever creeped an ex on social media,” Willa dares to say this time. Helaena and she are the only ones who don't drink, and Floris joins them while she shifts uncomfortably, seeing that Aemond does drink.

Aegon sees the opportunity to create a tense moment and seizes it. “Never have I ever lost my virginity to someone in this group.”

“Are you serious?” Helaena sighs.

“Very.”

The only ones who drink are the broken–up couple and the one that sticks together like peaches and cream. Willa takes a long gulp of her fruit cocktail, probably trying to shake off the embarrassment. She has not yet understood that no one really cares.

“Never have I ever had a crush on my siblings’s friends or on my friends's siblings,” Aemond says, accusingly looking at Aegon.

“All hail Cassandra Baratheon,” Annika murmurs before drinking. Daeron and Logan follow her, and so does Aegon, without any problem. Helaena turns her head trying to make sense of the situation, but Annika quickly adds, “Never have I ever been with someone of the same sex.”

She drinks. It doesn't surprise anyone that Aegon also drinks. It surprises everyone that Floris does.

“What!?” Helaena demands, laughing. “When!?”

“Never have I ever had a threesome,” Aemond basically answers for her. Annika chokes on the water she's drinking, and Aegon bursts into laughter when he sees the ex-couple drink, along with Logan and himself.

“Well, I don't have to know everything,” Daeron complains, wrinkling his nose in disgust. He usually is the one who always lags behind when it comes to knowledge about his brothers's lives, and to be honest, sometimes he feels it's better that way.

“Never have I ever broken the law,” Willa says. It's not surprising that everyone drinks this time, except her and Logan. Rich people thing, apparently.

“Never have I ever gotten a piercing,” Logan offers.

Helaena is the only one who drinks, her navel and ears heavily jewelled. And then, Aegon looks at Annika and shakes his head.

“I can't believe it. After all this time, and you still are a fucking cheater,” he addresses her.

“Excuse me?” She chuckles, feigning ignorance.

“You just lied.”

“But she has no piercings,” Floris defends her. Annika tightens the glass in her right hand and shifts uncomfortably on the couch.

“She has her right nipple pierced!” Aegon growls.

“Aegon!” Annika shouts, annoyed. “That's not something yours to share.”

“God, you always do the same thing and cheat on this stupid game. Why did you want to play if you're not going to expose yourself?”

“I don’t need them to know what I have pierced and what I don't. It's not about that,” she grumbles, crossing her arms.

Daeron furrows his brow. “How do you know she has a nipple piercing?”

“And when did you pierce your nipple?” Helaena asks, confused.

Annika bites her lip for a moment, suddenly too aware of the piercing that now seems to be warming up, the sensitive, raw skin against her bra. She was supposed to get both nipples pierced, but she couldn't bear the pain, at least not sober. She would come back someday for the next one, of course.

Aegon had taken her to get it done when she visited him in San Francisco last spring. The last time they saw each other. He promised her it would feel good afterwards. It's not something she has experienced yet.

He notices what the memory does to her. Annika moves again, too uncomfortable under his accusing gaze.

“I saw her naked this afternoon. I found her in the shower when we arrived. It was accidental,” Aegon explains casually. Annika's cheeks flush, yet she's grateful that Aegon thought so quickly to cover his tracks.

Now, that’s kind of a lie.

He had seen her naked since Annika's 20th birthday. She spent some time at the Targaryens’s house in London during lockdown, and there came a moment when they were so bored that one night, after swimming and drinking by the indoor pool, she came out dripping from a dive and went into the changing rooms to dry off. He followed her and didn't say anything; he was so bored that he held her against the wall and ate her out until she cried. He always had a thing for her and knew she was as bored and lonely. That night, she sneaked into his room, and he fucked her until she begged him to stop. Earlier, she had told him not to stop when she asked, so they fucked until he passed, and she had trouble walking the next day.

She had never felt such connection with someone before. They got along so well inside the bedroom that it was almost addictive. When they were alone, they got along even better than they did when they were with the others. And it made sense. It made all the sense in the world for them, but not necessarily for the world.

So when they wanted to have fun, without explanations, they flew to see each other. Or they met in places where they couldn't be found, like the time he fingered her at the Eiffel Tower on a random Thursday night in March.

And no one ever suspected. Until...

“I can't believe you said that,” Annika clicks her tongue. “Okay, if that's how you want to play. Never have I ever used Aemond's toothbrush.”

“You did what?” Aemond grumbles, turning to his brother with unease. “Dude. What the actual fuck?”

“Well, thank you very much, you witch,” Aegon rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. Then he smiles at the blonde sitting across from him and extends his can to her. “Never have I ever used Annika's toothbrush," he says, finishing the can with pride.

“God, you're such a pig!”

“Now I understand why Aegon's room is always a suite,” Daeron mocks, putting an arm around Willa's shoulders and leaning back on the sofa, pulling his girlfriend towards him. “You never used my toothbrush, right?”

“I once used dad's toothbrush to brush Sunfyre's teeth,” Helaena adds, tipsy as she could be. Everyone looks at her strangely, and they burst into laughter instantly. “I was really mad at him.”

“Why?” Willa laughs.

“I really don't remember. It must have been important for me to decide to brush Aegon's dog's teeth with his toothbrush,” she shrugs. Logan looks at her amused and shakes his head.

“It's such a Helaena thing to do,” Floris adds. “Remember the time Annika released Helaena’s spiders in the classroom and told Cressida they were poisonous?”

“Why would you do that?” Willa asks.

“Because I hated that bitch,” she replies simply. “She was sort of like my nemesis. She hated me too.”

“I fucked with her,” Aegon adds, “in her cabin when we went to that horrible camp with our school, during lunchtime.”

Floris grimaces in disgust. “But she was in our cabin.”

“I know. She insisted on doing it on Annika's bed,” he laughs, and her jaw drops. “She got back at you; you have to give her that.”

“And you participated in that?!” She screams. “Aegon, I can't believe you!”

“Oh, don't be so pristine. It was over the sheets. And hey, we could have put your toothbrush in the toilet of public bathrooms, but we didn't,” he replies.

“Okay. Never have I ever done it in someone else's bed,” Logan intervenes, somewhat familiar with the dynamics of distracting Annika and Aegon from tearing each other apart like wild dogs.

Everyone drinks, except Annika. “As I said, it's unhygienic.”

“What do you not find unhygienic?” Daeron teases her. “Okay, I want to know this, and I think it's the moment. Never have I ever been with a teacher.”

“You're still on that? I already told you I didn’t!” Aegon leans in to push his younger brother's arm playfully.

“You were sober when I asked you! I thought you were lying for my sake,” Daeron defends himself, laughter vibrating through the walls. “I had heard the rumours.”

And everyone's laughter accompanies his, except Aemond and Floris, who remain in a creeping silence, looking at each other.

“I mean, it's something he would do,” Helaena shrugs.

“No, I had heard that...-“ He stops speaking, the smile on his face turning from confusion to more confusion than grace when he looks at Aemond in deafening silence, just like Floris by his side. When everyone notices it, the atmosphere seems to dissipate. “I had heard that... Hum, one of my brothers... That...”

Helaena and Annika look at each other. Then Annika looks at Aegon, who keeps his mouth in an ‘O’ shape and remains motionless, trying not to add more fuel to the fire.

“C’mon,” Floris speaks for the first time. She and Aemond exchange glances, and the coffee table is not the only thing separating them because it feels like there are miles between them. Floris's voice is cold, just like her eyes. Annika knows her well enough to know that she's drunk. “Rules are rules. If you've done it, you drink.”

“I don't understand,” Logan murmurs, a bit lost.

“No? Well, let me try again. Never have I ever found my boyfriend fucking one of our high school teachers in my own bed, only to find out they had been screwing behind my back since we were in high school.”

Floris finishes her glass of red wine in three long gulps. Helaena stays silent, her hand resting on her mouth to hide the surprise. Logan and Willa shrink in their places, while Daeron scratches his head uncomfortably, and Annika bites her inside cheek.

Aegon takes a small sip of his drink with a loud noise. “Aemond… This is fucked up. Really, really bad. The kind of thing I would do.”

Floris leaves the empty glass on the table with so much accidental force that it breaks. Helaena startles, and Floris stands up, swaying. “This has been fun. Have a good time.”

She walks away without even looking back at Aemond, leaving everyone too bewildered to react quickly. He sighs, leaves his drink on the table, and tries to stand up.

“Floris, wait...”

“Haven't you done enough?” Annika spits venom, getting up and pushing him back into his seat. No one understands if Aemond doesn't resist her push or if she really used brute strength. Through gritted teeth, she points at him with her index finger. “No. Don’t you even dare.”

It's she who takes light steps and disappears upstairs, following Floris. Aemond shifts uncomfortably.

“I wouldn't do it if I were you,” Aegon warns.

“Man. What the hell?” Daeron sighs, running his hands over his face. “How long has this been going on?”

"I don't know. It happened a couple of times in our graduation year, and then we met each other last year, and... I don't know. It's been...”

“Aemond, right now, no one has a worse opinion of you than I do,” Helaena tells him, placing a hand over her heart. “Who did you screw?”

He puts his hand on the bridge of his nose. “Mrs. Rivers.”

“The health teacher? Seriously?” Aegon jokes.

“And you didn't think, I don't know, to break up with your long term girlfriend before doing it? Or after?” Logan intervenes. Aemond looks at him seriously.

“Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Hey,” Helaena tells him. “He's a friend.”

“He's not my friend,” Aemond hisses. “He's just a stranger who came to our door like a lost puppy.”

Aemond stands up and disappears, not up the stairs but towards the dining room, and Aegon is almost sure he hears him heading to the yard. Surely to smoke a cigarette secretly from all of them because God forbid he lets his friends and family know that he also feels and makes mistakes and drinks and smokes and is not the perfect child everyone thinks.

“Hm, Willa, do you want to eat something? Would you help me clean this up?” Helaena offers to the girl who looks terribly uncomfortable. At the same time, she signals Aegon to check on Aemond.

Aegon shakes his head, and Helaena stiffens her face. She has a look that's too demanding sometimes that reminds him of his mother's, and it gives him chills. It makes him get up from the couch and hit Daeron's shoulder to follow him to the yard.

He obeys, a bit confused. “Where are we going?”

“To see if Aemond is okay.”

“Of course he's okay. He's Aemond. And if we had to be checking if someone is okay, it should be Floris,” he says.

Aegon stops him in his tracks and grabs his shoulders. He looks at his brother, although he's taller than him, he still needs to learn a thing or two. He understands that the age difference between them is enough, but he also understands that Daeron is no longer a child.

“You're a man now, and that means you must learn something about this family. It's a twisted family of fucked–ups, and we screw up every day. I've messed up. Helaena has messed up. Mom and Dad specially, blah, blah. It happens, it's like it's encoded in our DNA. Aemond screws up too, and I'm sure you'll do it someday too. Not necessarily with Willa, it just will happen. And no one understands the feeling better than us,” Aegon explains. “This is what being part of this family is about. And we have an unspoken agreement; no matter what it is, we get through it. We don’t judge. Aemond is our brother, so we are not gonna judge him even though he deserves it.”

“Alright. I understand,” Daeron says and follows his older brother. As they suspected, Aemond is smoking, to the youngest’s impression. “I feel like I don't know you.”

“You don't,” Aemond mutters.

“Are you okay?” Daeron asks, resisting the urge to punch him or roll his eyes. “Why didn't you tell us what happened?”

“Yeah, like I would judge you for it,” Aegon laughs. “I hooked up with mom's pilates instructor while dating Alysanne.”

“Oh my God. I'm not like you, Aegon.”

“Realization sucks, right? It's tough. We've all been there. Fortunately for you, I'm the worst of us,” Aegon laughs. The two youngest ones remain silent, and the sound of crickets is the only thing heard for a moment. “Screw you both. You could try telling me otherwise.”

“Well...” Daeron hisses.

“Fuck you, seriously” Aegon flips them off. “Back to the important stuff. What happened with Floris?”

Aemond gets lost staring at a fixed point on the snow-covered ground, as if he's recalling all the events that led him to do what he did. But he can't. “I don't know,” he confesses sincerely. “I don't...”

“Do you love her?” Daeron asks.

“How could I not love her? She's been with me all my life. And I've been with her all her life. Since we were kids. School, my accident, high school. Birthdays, funerals, parties. She's always been there. We've always been me and her. Just like Helaena and Annika. Or Aegon and… Alcohol.”

“Oh, no. You’re making jokes now?” Daeron panics, and Aegon chuckles. “That doesn't mean you love her. It means you're used to her. And Floris doesn't deserve that. Neither do you.”

“I know she doesn't. She deserves something better,” Aemond says. “And I really care about her, and it hurts to have lost her, and it hurts to think about a life without her.”

Aegon rolls his eyes. “She'll always be there. You know, Helaena will never let go of those two girls. They've always been a pain in the ass for us and always will be. That's the fun part of being us.”

Aegon knows they would always be with them because their friendship with Helaena was not going to end. He knows Annika and Helaena would always be friends. But Aegon and Annika wouldn't always be together.

“I guess you're right.”

“Why didn't you invite me to come here with you?” Daeron asks suddenly. “I could have... I don't know. I understand you didn't want to spend Christmas at home, but I didn't think you wouldn't want to spend it with me.”

“Hey, you didn't want to spend it with us either. Otherwise, why did you come here with just your girlfriend?” Aegon questions. “We thought you'd get bored, and honestly... You are still not old enough to enter the casino or drink excessively.”

Daeron rolls his eyes. “You think I don't have a fake ID? I could have come with you.”

“And if you had come, we probably would have avoided this nightmare before Christmas situation,” Aemond says, scratching his good eye. “I don't know, I guess it’s hard for us to think you’re not longer a kid.”

“Sometimes it hurts being left out all the time, you know?”

“Welcome to being a Targaryen in the real world,” Aegon says, patting his shoulder. “You're officially invited to our Christmas getaway in 2024. And this time, it will be just the three of us.”

“No, I think I'll go home for Christmas next year,” Aemond shakes his head. “It's a pain in the ass, but not as much as being here in this situation.”

“I shouldn't have asked about the teacher thing,” Daeron laments.

“You had no idea. I didn't even know either,” Aegon sighs. “Did she tell the girls? Helaena seemed surprised. And I don't think Annika knew either.”

Aemond shrugs. “When it happened, she packed her things and didn't say a word to me. We know Floris; she's quiet, reserved, and she won't show what she doesn’t want you to find out. She wouldn't go with Helaena to tell her that her brother is a liar and a cheater, and she wouldn't tell Annika because she's also my friend. Was. Whatever.”

“I don't think she'll stop talking to you; she'll just give you a hard time. You know Annika,” Daeron reassures. “By the way, is it true about the piercing?”

Aegon smirks. “It's true.”

“Did you see it?” Daeron asks, with a grin.

Aemond smacks him on the back of the head. “Have some respect.”

“Oh, I saw it,” and other things. Daeron wants to ask what he has always wanted to ask, but he bites his tongue, remembering the situation that unfolded because of his questions. Aegon notices and appreciates it. “Well, the party is obviously over. We should eat something and go to bed. If we're lucky, the storm won't be so bad, and you can leave tomorrow.”

“Oh, yeah,” Daeron says, suddenly a bit dejected. He actually wants to stay. “Right. That sounds good.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Annika and Floris made no appearance while the rest had dinner watching a horror movie. The girl went downstairs for some food for Floris and then apologized to Willa and Logan for their absence, going back upstairs with her friend immediately.

Aegon drank more beer with dinner, and as soon as they finished eating, Aemond tried to wash some dishes, then went to his room alone without saying a word. Daeron had looked at Logan and Helaena, who were talking and laughing as if nothing had happened, with a strange expression and asked, “Where do you plan on sleeping?”

Helaena pinched his cheek as if he were a little kid. “You are adorable.”

It was her kind way of telling him to fuck off.

And although Daeron invited Willa to swim in the indoor pool, she claimed she wanted to go to bed, too tired to even breathe. If he had to be honest, all the drama had exhausted him too. So, the gang was reduced to Aegon, Helaena, and Logan. Aegon couldn't stand to third wheel with her little sister and a guy who dresses like some dude out of a Netflix Christmas rom–com , so he grabbed some beers and went up to his room with plans to drink until he passed out.

It doesn't happen.

He grunts and gets out of bed, exhausted from trying to sleep. The drunkenness already is part of his natural mental state.

The only lights on the house are the Christmas tree lights tinkling at a strange pace, and besides the muffled music echoing from the pool and the occasional laughter from Helaena, the only thing that can be heard is the squeaking wind. He makes his way to the kitchen feeling utterly cold; the heating in his room was so high that the change is brutal. He's not going to bother looking for the heating controls at this hour, and the fire in the living room fireplace has almost died down.

The refrigerator light beams on Annika's figure. She's sitting on the counter, with a glass of water, a pack of cigarettes, and staring at her dimly lit phone screen. She's wearing a black and pink satin pyjama set, tank top and shorts, and a somewhat warm robe, but she looks frozen. Her hair is wet.

“Late-night swim?” Aegon asks, startling her. “That brings back memories.”

Annika clicks her tongue. “No, I had to shower. Needed to get Floris's vomit off me.”

“Yikes,” he sticks out his tongue. “How's she doing?”

“Well... She... It's going to be tough.”

"You didn't know about…?”

She shakes her head, putting her phone aside. “No. She came to our flat one day with suitcases and teary eyes, and there was no need for her to say anything. We assumed that, well, she would tell us in her own time. She just said they wouldn't be coming back together, not like other times, and we figured it must be serious because she flew from Boston to New York,” she explains. “Did you know?”

“No, of course not,” he shakes his head. “Hey, don't give Aemond a hard time.”

“I couldn't care less about Aemond.”

“Did she fall asleep?”

“Passed out from crying too much, rather. I can't believe he did this to her. I mean... Ugh. It's something we might have expected from you, certainly not from him.”

“Oh, well,” he shrugs as he takes a seat on the bureau next to her. “I know my limitations, believe it or not. For starters, I would never be in such a closed relationship for so many years. They were in a cage, both of them.”

Annika rolls her eyes. “Can you believe they had a threesome?”

“I know, right?” Aegon laughs, and she joins in. “The kind of stuff I'd expect from you. Trying to revive a relationship that's clearly dead by adding a third party.”

She laughs. “Sounds like something I would do. You know how much I tend to cling to things even when the odds aren't in my favour.”

Aegon sighs. “So...”

“So...?”

“Can I see it?” Aegon suddenly asks, and Annika looks at him confused. “Your piercing.”

“I thought you said you saw it in the shower,” she says, placing the glass of water on the marble table. It makes a noise that feels louder than it actually is, and she squirms uncomfortably at the thought that someone might have heard it and finds them there, alone, together.

For someone who claims to be a loner, Aegon has a constant need for attention and contact, especially if it's from Annika. It's nothing new; he used to pull her braids when they were kids to attract her attention. Now he begs her to let him see her boobs. Normal.

He smiles. “I didn't. Everything was full of steam and foggy.”

“But you saw it. You were there when I got it done,” Annika reminds him, embarrassed. “You gave me the little piece of chocolate when my blood pressure dropped. You put a can of Coke on the back of my neck and helped me button my blouse.”

“First of all, it was Dr. Pepper. And second, it doesn't count because I didn't see it properly. And you left before we could do anything...” He shrugs. Annika squints her eyes. “I want to see it. Please.”

“You exposed me in front of everyone and almost got us caught. Why would I show it to you?”

“Because you're good at giving me what I want,” he says, devilishly smiling as he leans toward her.

“And what about what I want, huh? Not everyone can have what they want. I want a unicorn, for example.”

“I'll buy you a horse and pay to have a surgical pink horn put on it. Damn, I'd pay to have wings attached and teach it to fly if you want a freaking rainbow pegasus,” he roars, his voice deep.

Annika laughs and lowers the strap of her satin pajamas so Aegon can see. Not sure why she does it, but Annika loves to give him what he begs for. He doesn't ask for permission to stroke the side of her breast with his thumb, right at the curve. He moves her wet hair back and sighs as he feels the goosebumps on her skin.

“I like it. Although sometimes I catch it with the towel, and it's a little annoying,” she tries to ignore the fact that he's touching her after months and that when he touches her, her skin turns scarlet, just like everything around her. She looks up to find his gaze. “You were right, anyway.”

Annika never knew how, but it was he who had convinced her to get them because she was so sensitive in that area. Maybe she just wanted to please him, or maybe he knew that Aegon, even if he didn't admit it, knew her very well. He always knew better when it came to her.

“Have you tried it?” He asks.

“No, not really. I'm afraid it might still get infected. Besides...” She paraphrases, and Aegon lightly strokes the surface of her skin with his fingers. Another shiver runs through her, and she falls silent. “We shouldn't.”

“It's Christmas Eve. We're both alone...” He suggests, brushing the tip of his nose against hers. “I know you don't like being alone on holidays. You always have someone to warm your bed. And your options here are quite limited.”

“You're alone because you want to be alone,” Annika tells him, letting out a sigh. “I might have left, Aegon, but you let me go.”

“And you never tried hard enough either,” Aegon retorts. He pushes her swiftly, standing up and cornering her against the kitchen counter, slipping between her legs hanging from the high stool and placing his arms on the counter on either side of her body. Their breaths mix. “Please, let me do it.”

“I mourned you, Aegon,” Annika reminds him. “It hurt, what you did. How you laughed when that woman at the store mistook us for a couple. How you looked me in the eyes and said that what we had was all in my head. It was humiliating. That's why I left, because you hurt me. And after all that, you blame me for not reaching out for you? How can you say that?”

“I would have hurt you worse if you hadn't left, and you know it,” he says. He doesn't ask for permission either when he delicately strokes the tip of the jewelled nipple with care, and Annika hisses, hypersensitive as ever, melting in his hands. He smiles. “There it is. That’s my sweet girl. My favourite girl.”

She doesn't say anything and covers her mouth when he leans and catches her nipple between his teeth carefully. He knows how she likes it best, and the taste of the soft flesh mixed with the metallic aftertaste it’s exceedingly erotic. It's so intense that she has to close her legs together immediately as she feels that tingling sensation, although his body doesn't allow it. The way she feels stimulated inside and out is almost unbearable, and she unconsciously puts her hand through her shorts because she knows Aegon will spend a while playing with her before even doing anything.

When she tries to ease that discomfort, Aegon grabs her wrist and removes her hand from her shorts. She shivers when she loses contact, but he brings her fingers to his mouth to suck them clean, and Annika breathes heavily.

“Please,” she implores, grabbing him by the neck. He knows she's not asking him to fuck her exactly; she's asking for more. She tiptoes, grabs his cheeks, and tries to make him look into her eyes. “Aegon, please.”

He grunts with difficulty. He shoves his hand inside her shorts, pulls her underwear to a side and, without warning, shoves two fingers in; she's so wet that it offers no resistance.

“Isn't this enough?” He asks, moving the way he knows she likes. Annika opens her mouth and moans against his lips, and through the refrigerator light, he sees her wet eyes and a tear sliding down her cheek. “Why isn't this enough, huh?”

Why am I not enough for you? If I were, maybe we could be.

“I want...”

“No,” he hisses to silence her and prevent her from finishing that sentence. “You want to come on my fingers, that's all. You want my body. And I want yours. That's it.”

No, it's not.

She shakes her head. He doesn't stop, feeling Annika's heart beating against his own chest and how she tightens around his fingers as she struggles to stay still and not make any loud noises.

“I want you,” she tells him, quickly and muffled in a moan, against his lips when she orgasms. Aegon kisses her and swallows the pathetic declaration she utters, holding her with the other hand to feel her close before she goes away forever, but she seems to read his mind. “It's me, Aegon. Me. I'm not going to leave, and I want you. And I want everything from you.”

He wishes he could say yes to her, but he doesn't. He can't do that to Helaena, no matter how much he desires the same. He has to sort out his life first. He's not going to stop drinking. He can't see himself working in his father's company, marrying her, having children. He can't see himself disappointing her over and over when he turns out not to be what she wants.

She wasn't raised for the conventional either. She also has an intense fear of abandonment that would make her do anything for him to stay. This ends in two ways; either she leaves when she realizes she made a mistake and hates herself for letting herself be hurt by him, or she becomes an unknown version that assembles and disassembles for his entertainment.

In both scenarios, he loses her. Physically and emotionally. Two sides of the same coin.

Aemond couldn't stand a relationship of so many years and cheated on Floris. Aemond. The perfect son, Aemond. The perfect boyfriend, Aemond. The gentleman who would propose as soon as he graduated from college, buy an apartment, provide for his family, and have Alicent's first grandchildren...

“Say something,” Annika begs him, pulling him out of the thoughts that have fallen one after the other like a row of dominoes. She clings to him while with the other hand she runs it over his bare torso. He hasn't realized that he no longer feels cold. “Aegon. Anything. Anything, please.”

He can't.

“This is who I am. This is what I can offer you.”

“I'm not a child anymore. I don't want to fly to another country to see each other in secret and act like a couple for two weeks just for you to discard me like trash and go fuck someone else when you’re bored of me.”

He’s never bored of her, though. He just drinks her away. Smokes her away. Fucks her away.

And he knows it's been enough when she sobs.

He puts his hands over hers and separates her from his body. Now he feels the cold of Aspen again. If there was mistletoe above their heads, it's most likely withered. He gives her a kiss on the forehead and wipes away the tears falling down her cheeks.

“I'll leave my door open,” he warns her as he walks toward his room without looking back. But he knows it's useless; Annika won't come.

He leaves her crying in the kitchen, silently, on Christmas Eve. Because that's the kind of person he is. Annika knows. She has always known. She has seen the girls crying in the kitchen before; this time is no different. She has seen the girlfriends he brought on family trips. How he runs them dry. How he breaks their souls.

But Aegon knows that Annika is not like them. He knows that Annika means much more than anyone else. And he knows he can't. He would feel like a bird trapped in a box. He would make her miserable...

He promised to her mother he wouldn’t.

And he knows she deserves something better.

“At least admit it,” she asks him, from the other end of the kitchen when he's about to cross the door. He doesn't turn to look at her. “At least admit that it was real.”

But he leaves nonetheless.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Freya died when Annika was fifteen, and Aegon seventeen. She had been diagnosed with one of those strange and lethal diseases a few months earlier. Aegon couldn't remember the name, but they had told him. He still doesn't know why to this day.

Perhaps because he was the eldest. Because Alicent had pushed him out first, a measly two years before Helaena, and two measly years before Freya gave birth to her daughter. Annika only found out about her mother's illness a month before she passed away. And when it started to get ugly, her parents sent her away. She couldn't be with her when she died, couldn't say goodbye, couldn't ever come to terms with it...

And she never found out that Aegon knew all along.

Alicent had always told him that he had to take care of his younger siblings and, by extension, Annika, who seemed more like a sister to Helaena than he ever was. Annika wiped Helaena’s tears and Annika fought Helaena’s bullies and even Aemond’s at times. Freya said that Annika could take care of herself, but she wouldn't object to having Aegon around. At times, Aegon might have felt that Freya was the only person who still saw him as the golden child and not as the boy who fucked up everything he touched. Freya would entrust Aegon with her most precious possession without a second thought.

But one day, on one of those days when she was pretending to be okay for her daughter's sake, she saw Aegon drinking his third glass of the evening and shook her head. She put a hand on his shoulder and sighed. “I'm not going to ask you to take care of her once I’m gone; it's not your responsibility. But it would hurt me a lot if you were the one who ends up hurting her.”

Two years later, he went off to college and said he wanted nothing to do with that damn debutante ball, but he made the damn mistake of attending anyway.

The rest is a story not fit for Christmas.

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

The holidays should be a time of love and peace, and yet, in the Targaryen Aspen retreat cabin, the only festive thing is the fact the atmosphere is as bitter as the mistletoe. Helaena, Logan, and Willa, the designated cooks and the only ones who seem to know how to use the stove and microwave, are the ones preparing breakfast. Floris sits on the windowsill, watching as the snow falls heavily and sticking to the ground outside. The noise of the television and the crackling fire is all that can be heard.

Aemond and Daeron play a game of express chess after setting things on the coffee table for breakfast. Aegon watches them while smoking a cigarette inside, much to Helaena's dismay, as he has no desire to step onto the icy exterior.

Annika is the last to appear, wearing those ridiculous fur boots and a pink Chanel sweater with a Camellia logo. Her steps and the sound of the two huge suitcases being dragged down the stairs make everyone look towards the staircase, desperate for someone to break the ice. She shrinks under the attention, very uncharacteristic of her, and Aegon sees Helaena and Floris exchange worried glances.

“What are you doing?” She asks, watching them prepare pancakes for breakfast.

“Breakfast,” Willa says. “Do you want coffee?”

She shakes her head. “No, I don't want coffee. I want to leave. The night has passed. I thought everyone would be ready to leave. Usually, I'm always the last to be ready.”

“You can't leave. The roads are filled with snow that probably no one will clear until after Christmas. There was a storm last night. It's not safe,” Logan reminds her, pointing to the TV where the weatherman urges residents and visitors to stay indoors until further notice. “Even if you could cross the road, there are no flights available.”

Annika smiles and takes off the sunglasses she was wearing. “No, I'll ask my dad to send his pilot, duh. I'm not taking any commercial flights. I wanted to ski for Christmas, and that's what I'm going to do. I'm going to the nearest place with snow and a sauna.”

Daeron and Aemond look at each other, aware that the unpleasant part of Annika is speaking. Something is wrong.

“Well, I don't want to leave. We're here already, we can make it worthwhile,” Hel tells her. Annika rolls her eyes.

“Fine, you stay. Floris?”

She opens her mouth and sighs. “It's not that I want to stay, but flying in these conditions... I don't know. It's only two more days. Maybe even tomorrow we can leave. I'm not going to risk it.”

“Great. I guess it's just me,” Annika grumbles, grabbing her suitcases. “Well, have fun, I suppose. Au revoir. Arrivederci. Goodbye. Chau.”

“I'll go,” Floris says, resigned, and walks behind her. Daeron does the same, and Aegon follows them out of pure curiosity. “Annika, you can't leave!”

“She's right, it's not safe!” Daeron shouts from the door. She has started to drag her suitcases down the stairs with difficulty, the stupid boots slipping on the ice. The car is covered in snow, and it will take her a while to clear it, not to mention that the snow keeps falling.

“Watch me!” She says, reaching the bottom of the stairs with the first suitcase. She holds onto the railing and makes the ascent again, slipping several times. Then she grabs the other suitcase.

“At least let me help you,” Daeron offers. He shakes off the cold and takes Annika's suitcase. She struggles for a moment, insisting she can do it, but he prevails and lifts it.

“Be careful,” Floris says, putting a hand to her mouth. “Annika, would you call when...?”

“Fuck!” Annika yells when she slips down the stairs. Aegon sees her lose balance and fall to her ass, hitting herself several times before reaching the stone path.

If he weren't concerned because he heard her hit her head against a step, he definitely would have burst into laughter. Floris also screams, shocked, and Daeron drops the suitcase in the snow to rush to help her.

“Annika!”

“Daeron, don't throw my suitcase in the damn snow!” She reproaches him, holding her head with one hand.

“Yeah, she’s okay,” Aegon deduces, descending the porch steps carefully. Annika doesn't even acknowledge his existence.

“What happened?” Helaena asks, coming out with the rest through the front door. “Oh, God. Are you alright?”

“I'm fine. I tripped,” she admits, defeated. Daeron and Floris take one of each arm and help her to her feet. When she stands and puts her weight on her feet, she begins to whimper in pain and holds onto both. “Ouch, ouch!”

“What's happening?” Daeron asks.

“My ankle!” She complains. “It hurts, hurts! Oh, God. What if it’s broken? What if I can't walk ever again?”

“Calm down. I don't think it's broken; if it were, you'd be crying,” Logan tells her, quickly descending the stairs. He replaces Floris' grip on one side of her body. “Can you put weight on it?”

“No, it hurts like a son of a bitch. Shit,” Annika moans, and Logan lifts her into his arms to take her back into the house. “Daeron! Bring my suitcases!”

He sighs but obeys. The last thing he wants is to bother her more than she already seems. Everyone enters behind Logan, and he takes her to the living room while Floris cleans the melting snowflakes from her hair.

Logan leaves her on the couch and sits in front of her on the coffee table, resting her foot on his lap. Without asking for permission, he tries to untie the boot, but he doesn't understand much about its operation. He tries to remove it with pressure, but she screams and writhes in pain.

“No, no! Don't do that!” She scolds him. “Damn it. I can't believe it.”

“I don't want to say I told you so, but I told you so,” Floris says, arms crossed. “Those boots are the death of you.”

“Maybe we just need to cut the boot off,” suggests Aemond.

Annika throws a cushion at him for the brutal idea.

“Not the Moschino. No!”

“It's probably just a sprain. But either we cut it off, or I could still trying to take it off and hurt you even more,” Logan tells her.

“I would sacrifice the boot,” Helaena tries to reason. “We can get another pair. You can't get another foot; that's for sure.”

“Kill me. Kill me now,” she says, bringing a cushion to her face and screaming into it. “Fine. Cut them. Kill them. Just do it quickly. I don't want to see.”

Helaena squeezes her shoulder, standing behind the sofa where Annika has put her head on the backrest and taken the cushion to her face. Willa hands Logan a knife, who puts it through the boot and tries to cut the material with considerable difficulty while Annika whimpers. If one were to see the scene from a distance, they would probably think they were cutting off her foot.

When he removes the boot and the thermal sock, everyone analyses the extremely swollen ankle with disgust.

“Is it bad?” She asks, removing the cushion from her face but not daring to speak. Aegon puts it back on her face, wrinkling his nose, but she hits him. “Don't touch me. Logan. Is it really bad?”

“Well...”

She opens her eyes wide. “Oh, my God!”

“Hey, don't worry,” he tries to calm her, patting her knee gently when she starts to cry. “You'll be fine. Painkillers, rest, and lots of ice. Everything will be fine; you'll be walking in—“

“Give it to me,” she reaches out her arms.

“What?” Logan asks, confused.

Aemond lightly hits his arm. “She means the boot.”

“The... The boot?”

Aegon nods. “Yes, she's crying over the boot.”

“It was so beautiful!” She exclaims when Willa hands it to her, and she hugs it with distress. “It's not fair. I bought them on our trip to Milan. They were the last pair. Do you remember, Flo? Do you remember how we were walking, and I saw them in the shop window, and...?”

Logan looks around, not understanding how no one seems surprised or confused by the girl's attitude. It's Daeron who whispers in his ear, “She cries over trivial things to avoid crying about what she really has to cry about. The odds of her being incredibly sore are very high, but she won't admit it.”

“Oh, well,” he scratches his neck, uncomfortable. “Bring her some ice. Try not to put weight on your foot for a while and keep it elevated.”

“Hey, look on the bright side. At least you didn't ruin your cashmere sweater,” Helaena says cheerfully. Willa frowns, observing her pink sweater for a moment.

“I want to go home,” she protests. “Why does everything have to happen to me?”

“It'll be okay. We'll have breakfast so you don't take a painkiller on an empty stomach, and you can try to leave when the swelling goes down,” Logan reassures her, getting up from the table and walking to the kitchen. Then he turns to Floris. “Yeah, she's not going anywhere. Not today, at least.”

Floris bites her lip, a little amused, and shakes her head. “A Christmas Eve to remember,” she says, and then helps everyone set the table for breakfast.

By mid–afternoon, everyone has had a few drinks and taken a dip in the indoor pool. Floris and Aemond maintain an incredibly mature distance, astonishing Aegon as he discusses it with Willa. Daeron seems to have become very friendly with Logan.

Annika didn't want to move, and in a sour mood stayed on the couch watching some stupid Christmas movie.

“They are cute,” Willa says, referring to Helaena and Logan. Her red curls are dripping water, and she holds onto the edge of the pool while sipping a sip of a daiquiri Aegon made for her.

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Don't you like someone making her laugh? Daeron always says she's a pretty lonely person and has a hard time getting along with others.”

“Aren't we all?” He chuckles. “I guess... It's always us who bring our girlfriends home. I mean, if we don't count the little friend Daeron brought home at seven years old who started crying when he showed her Aemond's snake, and his mother picked her up half an hour later, you would officially be the first girl Daeron brought. And Aemond and Floris have been together forever. And I...”

“Bring a different girl to every gathering?” Willa laughs.

“Yeah, as pathetic as that sounds,” he continues. “The point is, Helaena has never brought anyone else but Annika. She's her person. We got so used to it that now it's weird to see her with someone else. I don't think any of us realized that one day we would meet her partner.”

“It's weird. They seem to have that confidence that makes you think they've known each other forever,” she ponders. “Anyway, it's nice that they get along. She can't be with Annika all the time, I think. Eventually, they'll have to find a significant other.”

He dips his head in the pool to avoid hearing the last words and then emerges, leaning his elbows on the pool's edge, rubbing the water off his eyes.

“And that will be a great day for everyone,” he sighs ironically. Willa inspects him carefully. “What?”

“Nothing,” she shrugs. “I mean... I'm very observant.”

“Yeah, I remember. A very curious little mouse, I told Daeron.”

“When we went to your house in San Francisco, do you remember the day it got really cold, and the airline had lost my luggage?”

“Hm, vaguely.”

“You gave me a sweater to wear while Daeron and I replaced my clothes.”

“I did?”

“Yes. You told me to be careful not to ruin it,” Willa tries to make him remember. “It was a pink cashmere sweater with a Camellia. Like the one Annika's wearing.”

Aegon bites his cheek. He knew he shouldn't lend the clothes Annika had forgotten at his apartment. Man, Annika never lends her clothes. How could he be so stupid?

“Sure... It's… It was mine. We bought it on sale. You know, two for the price of one,” he says, nervously laughing. He’s more worried about Annika finding out he lend her sweater. “It's very soft, much softer than any other fabric. I like wearing it. Yes. And I love pink. I have that sweater at home, and a lot of other pink clothes. I'd show you...”

“Aegon,” she sighs amused. “I'm not going to say anything.”

“You're not going to say anything about what?” He asks, trying not to sound mortified.

“You and Annika,” she murmurs, so only he can hear.

Aegon laughs. “There's no me and Annika.”

“You knew about her piercing, and she looked too worried when you mentioned it, but not surprised. Come on. I think everyone knows; they're just waiting for you two to say it and pretending not to know,” Willa tells him.

“There's nothing to say. It was... Nothing. Just something physical. It didn't mean anything.”

“What didn't mean anything?” Daeron asks, appearing out of nowhere behind Willa and hugging her around the waist. “Is Aegon bothering you?”

“I think I'm bothering him,” she says playfully.

He climbs onto the pool's edge, coming out of the water dripping, and walks to grab a towel without saying a word. After almost completely drying himself, he goes to the living room where Annika watches the Grinch, sitting in the same position they left her, with a blanket over her lap and ice over her head.

“He looks like you,” he tells her, ignoring the fact that he left her crying in the kitchen the night before. He always does that.

“I'm not in the mood,” she says, not moving her eyes from the screen. He peeks behind her and shakes his head to wet her. “Bite me.”

“Aren’t you a delight,” he says, taking a seat next to her. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” she replies, arms crossed and clearly a bit drowsy from the painkillers, without even looking at him.

“I thought we called on a truce.”

“I think we shouldn't talk at all,” she tells him. The indifferent tone stirs something acidic in Aegon's chest, and he squirms with sadness. “Oh, sorry. Was I too harsh?”

“I don't understand why you're angry. I should be angry. You gave me the blue balls. At least you got to finish.”

She looks at him and lets out a laugh. “I can't stand you.”

“Where do you think you're going?” He asks when he sees her trying to get up.

“Far away from you,” she says, being careful not to put weight on her foot. Aegon takes her arm and throws her back on the couch. She lets out a groan and wriggles, trying to escape his grip, but he holds her by the waist and presses her to his chest. “Let me go.”

“There’s something you need to know. Willa knows about us,” he warns, putting his mouth to her ear. She shifts uncomfortably. “It's just a matter of time before everyone finds out.”

“Then you kill her to keep the secret. God forbid someone finds out you touched me, or even looked in my direction.”

“Do you think that's the problem?” He asks, his palm resting on her stomach, lips against her neck. “You think I care if anyone finds out?”

“You made it pretty clear.”

“Do you want me to make you come again in this sofa where anyone could walk in and see us?” He asks, kissing her under the ear as he moves his hand from her navel to her centre. “You might understand that’s not what I’m worrying about, then.”

Annika hits his hand off and lets go of his grip. “No. I want you to leave. I'm serious. I don't want you to talk to me, look at me, or breathe in my direction. I don't want you near.”

He smiles crookedly. “Definitely harsh.”

“Go away. I can't go up the stairs, so I'm asking you to leave.”

She leans back against the backrest and covers herself with the blanket, resting her cheek on her hand. Aegon sighs in defeat. He’s not used to being rejected by her, if she ever got complicated usually some sweet talking and his fingers worked like charm to remedy her.

“Annika...”

“I don't want to hear your pathetic excuses,” she says. “You can take your blue balls and shove them in the snow as far as I’m concerned. And if you feel lonely, you have two hands.”

He looks at his hands.

It would hurt me a lot if you hurt her.

If he stays, he'll hurt her. If he leaves, he'll hurt her.

Freya was wrong. His mother, too. He can’t take care of her.

“Can I stay here and watch the movie at least?” He sighs, noticeably tired. She looks at him sideways and doesn't answer, but gives him a piece of her blanket. He settles a bit closer to her and curls up in his place, feeling a bit cold. “Do you want something to drink?”

“I want you to shut up.”

He nods. “Okay. Deal. I'll shut up.”

But he can't. He glances at her certain times, focused on the movie and looking as unhappy as ever. He clicks his tongue.

“You know...”

“No. I don't want to know.”

“Fine,” he nods again. Moves his leg frantically and manages to keep quiet for two full minutes. “But, if you think about it...”

Annika puts the TV on mute and turns to look at him. He stays silent when those green eyes haunt him. “It was real. It wasn't a waste of time. I wasn't just another one of your girls. It was different. It always has been. You were there, and it was real.”

“Of course, it wasn't a waste of time,” he starts saying. Freya's voice drills into his head. It would hurt me a lot if you hurt her. “And it was real.”

“And why don't you admit it?”

“What do you want me to admit?” He sighs, tired, and rests his cheek on the back of the sofa. Silver hair wets the green fabric, but he doesn't care.

“That you want me.”

“I can show you how hard I am so that –“

“That you love me,” she corrects.

He tries to escape, almost panicked, but she takes his cheeks and forces him to look at her. Her eyes are hypnotic. Her cheeks. Her skin. Her hair. The nose and eyelids reddened from crying so much because of him.

Of course, he does.

She's so close that their lips almost touch. He has leaned over her, because he does love her. Because she's right. And she no longer wants to run away... But he can't say it. However, he finds another way to be honest.

“I knew when your mother got sick,” he says, delicate as if confessing a sin. “I always knew. And she told me I shouldn't take care of you because you could take care of yourself, but that the idea of me hurting you would sadden her. I can’t do that to her.”

She leans back even though he tries to kiss her. She moves back so much that it cuts through his chest.

“What?” She gasps, not understanding. “What... What are you talking about? What does that even mean?”

And there's more. And there's so much you don't know. Because I've loved you since we were kids. Because I've taken care of you since we were kids. You don't have the right to treat me like a villain. I've always taken care of you. This time is no different.

“Aegon,” she calls him, in a sob. But he doesn't react, so she hits him in the chest. “Are you fucking kidding me? Why would you say something like that? Why would you even –“

“Because it's the truth. You wanted to know the truth. There it is,” he says. “We can't be together, Annika. I've learned to live with that, and you should too.”

🧣⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⍣ ೋ *ੈ🎄‧₊˚ . *ੈ✩‧₊˚ ೃ࿐🌟

Floris pours herself a glass of water while Aemond looks at her with a dangerously careful gaze. He has always been tough, since they were kids, and it worsened after the incident with his eye. The sapphire only makes him appear tougher, ruthless, even.

But Floris cannot see anything other than his good side. His heart. The way he cares about his family, even Annika, with whom he always had a somewhat distant relationship. He cares.

That's why it was strange when she found him with their professor. It wasn't strange to have packed her things and taken the next flight to move from one state to another in less than six hours though.

He didn't object.

It's the first time they see each other, and there's a lot to say. He sent her things, and everyone moved on. She doesn't know what happened to the apartment or that damn snake of his that wouldn't let her have a puppy because it might eat it.

“Floris,” he finally calls her. She can't look at him. She can't see the person who cares and matters to her, who would never have hurt her. It's a different person standing beside her. “Please, look at me. We need to talk.”

She shakes her head. “We don't need to talk.”

“We need to clear things up.”

She smiles ironically. “What do you want to clarify? You slept with a teacher multiple times over these past few years and brought her to my house, to my bed. Do you have a valid reason? Other than the fact that you obviously no longer love me?”

Aemond weighs it for a moment. And then nods.

“I do love you.”

She laughs. “Sure.”

“You're my best friend. The best I've ever had in my life.”

“And then? Why did you do this to me?” She asks. There's no anger in her tone, as if the anger had dissipated after the exhaustive conversation with Annika, who she covered in snot and vomit. It's curiosity, no more, no less. It's intrigue.

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“I know I have my issues, but I firmly believe I've never done anything to hurt you. Not intentionally at least. I haven't been a bad girlfriend or a bad friend either. So, I ask you again, if you love me, why did you do this to me?”

“Because I love you,” he nods. “It's easy for me to love you, Flo. It's warm, and you feel like home to me. But I'm not a kid anymore, and neither are you. Adults have to leave their homes to create their own paths.”

Her eyes fill with tears. “I thought we were happy.”

“We were. I am. And I really don't want to lose you... But I cannot keep doing this,” he sighs, and gently takes her hand. “I'm sorry. It was stupid. And I don't think you can forgive me, but...”

“You're right, I can't,” she tells him, sniffing. “You should have told me what you felt when you felt it. You shouldn’t have let me waste all this past years. We could have found a solution; we did when, you know… Or we could have... –“

“Flo, there was nothing else to do. We tried everything,” Aemond tells her, a bit firmer now. “You don't love me in that way either. I know you, and I'm sorry. I've felt this distance between us for a while. You're not happy in Boston. You're happier with Annika and Helaena in New York. You would be happier if you had a dog instead of a snake. You would be happy if you explored a bit of who you are and what you want to be besides me.”

She sobs. “How am I supposed to go on after this?”

Aemond knows she might not, but maybe, after all, it's the only way for her to understand that between them, there's nothing but the love they've outgrown. Childish, puppy love.

“I'm sorry. It was stupid. And I'm not even seeing her. I guess I needed a getaway car, and that's the one I found... I guess you'll have to be the better person here and forgive me. It will take time, but I hope you know that I really mean it when I say I regret what I did to yoy.”

Floris clicks her tongue and rubs her face with her hands. “Well, you never apologized for anything. So I guess you are saying the truth. But it only makes me feel worse because this means you screwed up big time and you’re aware of it.”

He lets out a little laugh and leans in to kiss her on the forehead. “You taught me a lot. More than anyone else in my life. You gave me everything you could, and it's time for both of us to move on with what we taught to each other. When you're ready, when you're at peace... I hope I can be your friend again. Because I can't bear the thought of you not being in my life anymore.”

She understands what he means. Not in a romantic way, but they know each other too well. No one will ever know him so much, and vice versa. No one will ever live what they lived together.

“I’m always gonna love you,” she confesses. Again, not in a romantic way, but there's no need to clarify that.

Aemond tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m always gonna love you, too.”

“I need time. A lot. When I go back to New York, I'm going to transfer a university there. I fell behind a bit, but I'll catch up. I'll go to therapy, and I'll learn to forgive you. But I don't want to see you for a while.”

It hurts him almost as much as the pain that sometimes paralyzes half of his face.

But he knows he deserves it.

“You'll be fine,” he tells her. “You were always… Resilient. More so than me.”

“I know,” Flo smiles. “I’ll be fine. I got my girls with me.”

[apinchofm]

Fic Rec Friday

Dear Reader by BumbleBee823 @dreamstone28737

such a beautiful story of kate discovering her mother and also tons of focus on female relationships and friendships and family. g, fluff, kate and her family.

Silver Crimson by @princesssszzzz

I'm on my daeron and rhaena track but rhaena and aemond are always my faves and this fic is so wonderful! g, fluff and first kisses, rhaemond

london boulevard by @phantomphaeton

i adore this mad, wonderful fic that delves into the chaos of money, existing as women, insecurity, love and female friendship by one of my favourite people!! moodboard here

Colors of Connection by Rebeccabackatya

art teacher carmy falling in love with sydney who is also a mum?? love this and only two chapters in! e, single parent au, sydcarmy

Building a Love That Flourishes by cryingoverdanielsousa

reminded of my aos obsession and how cute these two are and this one shot of daisy and her old man is too cute. t, fluff and lego

[florisbaratheons]

i am so tired of this fandom and especially with aemond fics. like even with alicent×oc there is more nuance, unpredictability than with aemond. there are 2 ways. it's either aemond×niece/twin/cousin or aemond×some servant. that's why I enjoy your fic so much, you focus on greens dynamic and not everything orbits around getting aemond to fuck the main female character. it really refreshing to read your fic because you focus on alicent which is great and how they all interact from the small age. but if you know some good fics please recommend it, maybe i just encountered the wrong ones 😅

Apologies for the late reply! I've been at the hospital most of the day having testing done and I am just now sitting down with my computer. Well, in it's all confetti anyway;, Aemond is only 11 at the moment lol. He will have a romance but that won't be until the epilogue when he's in his twenties.

Thank you very much! I am still fighting with the next chapter, with part 2 of Daeron's birth, but I can assure you I have not abandoned it. And I feel your frustrations. I so want to read Team Green fics, but you can't really find them on AO3, you have to look for them here on tumblr. I really have not found many good fics except for Lady Dreamfyre by @ai-megurine and My Hand Was The One You Reached For by @cakemyteas. There's also Shields Tossed Aside by @lullaebys and See, What Had Happened Was... by @daylander1000

A few of these have not been updated in awhile, but they are excellent and definitely worth the reads.

I am also working on a show rewrite that is Team Green, but also features Team Black povs, and frankly, I am guilty of what you are talking about, lol. My au opens with Alicent arranging a betrothal between Aemond and Floris Baratheon after Driftmark so she can get him out of KL and someplace safe, and there is a large focus on Aemond and Floris's marriage and the birth of their daughter.

Thank you again for the kind words.

[maironsbigboobs]

End of Year Fic Recs!

Recommend up to 5 series or multi-chapter fics from 2023 that everyone should read (multi-year WIPs count, if the last update was in 2023).

Recommend up to 5 single chapter fics/one-shots (long or short) from 2023 that everyone should read.

Recommend up to 5 fics NOT from 2023 that everyone should read (oldies but goodies).

Recommend up to 5 of your own fics (completed or WIP) from 2023 that everyone should read.

I wasn't tagged by anyone, but I can't resist the chance to share some faves:

Multi-Chapter Fics/Series

Reconcillation – by @transmairon –  T, Sauron/Celebrimbor, ongoing – Fourth Age Sauron facing the consequences of his actions and trying to reintergrate himself with the world. I cannot wait to see Celebrimbor’s reaction to meeting him again.

From Mother to Daughter – by Galenfea – Gen, 5k – The fiber arts passed down through the generations. This is the kind of topic I love; a peek into the everyday lives of elves.  I loved the world-building!

companions in shipwreck – by spellworth – T, multiple, ongoing – An exploration of canon of female characters. I love this one, wonderful writing and creatvity – especially when writing about characters where canon gives them a name at most.

Haunted, Hunted  - by @imakemywings – T, Elwing & Maedhros, 9.3k - Elwing goes for a walk in the woods… This one is so cool, I loved the fairytale elements and Elwing’s horror was palpable!

dye me, nocturne – by @solmarillion – T, Daeron/Maglor, 12k – Darron finds a stranger on the shore and they get talking. I love how messy Maglor is here, trying to get what he wants out of Daeron, and how raw this fic was in the grief and bitterness in these two exiles at the end of the First Age.

Single Chapter Fics/Oneshots

elvenkings – by @meadowlarkx– Gen, 1.5k – A look through history at Menegroth’s fall. This one had me sobbing, it’s so beautiful and full of tragedy.

Bow and Helm and Hand –  by @jouissants – E, Beleg/Mablung/Túrin, 3.5k – Mablung joins Beleg and Túrin on the marches. Very sexy and filled with wonderful characterisation and delicious hints of angst and foreboding.

Echo of the Music – by @starspray– Gen, Thingol/Melian, 471 – A sweet look at Melian and Thingol’s relationship to each other, to art and to music (and the Music)

"…on a place of insecurity." – by @carlandrea – Gen, Thingol/Melian – This is one of my favourite Thingol/Melian fics, it’s so tender and Melian’s foreboding makes me so emotional.

At the Moment of Parting – by @daegred-winsterhand – T, Beleg/Túrin, 1.5k – Sweet and sad, Turin’s grief is so thick and real.

Pre 2023 Fics

The Gleaming Road – by melblue – E, Éomer/Faramir, 28k – Misunderstanding is a favourite trope of mine and it adds to the Drama here, with poor Eomer not knowing what Faramir is expecting from him. I don’t read a lot of LOTR era fics at the moment but this one is an old fave!

The Marchwardens – by roseofthebrightsea – Gen, Beleg, Mablung, Haldir etc, 6k – I love fics that are snippets of characters lives and this has some wonderful writing and sharp characterisation in short words.

A Challenge  – by @polutrope – M, Daeron/Maglor, 1.4k – The fic that got me into Daemags! Such a fun and entertaining fic!

Unkinged – by @arofili – E, Finwë/Miriel/Indis, 1k – Looove this, a beautiful moment between the three of them in a happier time.

The Gold Are Venomous – by @aipilosse – E, Sauron/Celebrimbor, 3.1k – I love Fourth Age silvergifting and I love mischievious Annatar is here, still up to no good after all this time… though Celebrimbor isn’t complaining (much) 😉Sexy and amusing.

My Fics

I risk my life to make my name – E, Galadriel/Melian, 10k – Gawain and the Green Knight AU. This was my first attempt at something multi-chaptered and I really like it still; it was fun to write and I am pretty pleased with how it turned out.

Starlight – M, Mablung, 944 – Mablung falls in Menegroth. This is was fun because I love angst and I liked playing with the structure with flashbacks.

Feast – Gen, Idril & Turgon, 1k – Idril reflects on her time on the Ice and how her father looked out for her. I love thinking about Idril & Turgon.

Reunion – Gen, Andróg & Andvir, 858 – Andvir finds his father in the wilds. I am never not thinking about the Gaurwaith.

Jealous Kiss –  Gen, Celebrimbor/Sauron, 370 – Annatar teases Tyelpe. I love it when Annatar causes problems on purpose.