#fuck the blackfyres

[chaosordoffl]

Some Valyrian/Targaryen/Velaryon names. No expertise here, simply following patterns to see what sounds and looks nice + canon sources and Valyrian dictionary plucks. In chrono & thought order.

Canon — Rhaenys, Rhaena, Rhaella, Rhaenyra, Rhaegel, Rhae, Rhaelle, Rhaegar (All Targ)

Derived — Rhaenion, Rhaenelle, Rhaenella, Rhaegor, Rhaegon, Aenyra, Rhaelion, Rhaenyx, Rhaelyx, Rhaenar, Rhaenyar, Rhaenel, Rhaelys, Rhaevel, Rhaevis, Rhaevys, Viserrhae, Rhaenya, Rhaenior, Rhaenor, Rhael, Rhaen, Rhaejel, Rhaeqan, Rhaellor, Rhaemon, Rhaemond, Rhaenyron, Rhaema

Canon — Aenar, Aegon, Aerys, Aelyx, Aerion, Aethan (1 Velaryon), Vaegon, Aenys, Aerea, Naerys, Aegor, Aelor, Aelora (Rest Targ)

Derived — Aegar, Aelon, Aelys, Aelar, Aelara, Aella, Aelinor, Aeral, Aeron, Aelion, Aegys, Aegal, Aelia, Naera, Naeron, Naerion, Naerelle, Naerella, Naerea, Aethal, Aethelle, Aethys, Aethion, Aethar, Aethial, Aenor, Aethor, Aerelle, Gaelyx, Aenyx, Aeryx, Baelyx, Aelial, Aeliar, Aelior, Vaegal, Vaegor, Vaegar, Vaelior, Vaelor, Aerial, Aeriel, Aelan, Aevys, Aevelle, Aevella, Haelyx, Haelian, Aenir, Haethan, Haelan, Haelor, Aekor, Haeral

Canon — Gaemon (T), Daemion (T & V), Daemon (V & T), Aemon (T), Aemma (T [Andal?]), Vaemond (V), Aemond (T), Daeron (V later T)

Derived — Daemyra, Daemys, Daemyn, Daemelle, Daema, Gaemar, Daerelle, Daerion, Aemys, Aemar, Aemor, Aemir, Aemira, Aemara, Aemora, Daemor, Daemora, Vaemon, Gaema, Gaemond, Gaemyn, Gaemion, Aemion, Gaemor, Aemior, Aemyn, Aemin, Aerona, Aemona, Aemia, Aeman, Aemal, Aemelle, Gaemia, Aemol, Aemil, Aemila, Aemilon, Aemilor, Aeminor, Daemyron, Daeminor, Haemon, Naemon, Haemia, Naema, Haemal, Haemar, Naemior, Naemor, Daemian

Canon — Daenys, Daenerys, Daella, Daenaera (1 V), Daena, Daenora (Rest T)

Derived — Daenyra, Daenar, Daenor, Daenelle, Daenal, Daen, Nerys, Naera, Daenir, Daenyx, Daeryx, Daerys, Daera, Daerya, Daenya, Daenyron, Daenorion, Norion, Daenyrion, Daenarion, Daenaeron, Daellar, Daelar, Daelon, Daelor, Daelan, Daelana, Daelanys, Daelenys, Daelyn, Aenaera

Canon — Maegon, Maegor, Maegelle, Maelor, Maekar (All T)

Derived — Maegar, Maela, Maelys, Maegys, Maegera, Maegara, Maegerys, Maegal, Maegyn, Maegan, Maekor, Maekaera, Maegaera, Maegaela, Maekion, Maelyra, Maegyra, Maelara, Maelar

Canon — Elaena (T), Valaena, Laena, Laenor (3 V), Helaena (T)

Derived — Laenys, Laenyra, Laenar, Laenelle, Helaenys, Elaenor, Elaenys, Laenion, Laenir, Laenyx, Elaenar, Laenora, Haena, Vaena, Alaena, Haela, Norys, Alaenys, Vaenys, Galaena

Canon — Visenya, Viserys, Viserra (T)

Derived — Viserya, Visenys, Senys, Saenys, Saenya, Saenar, Saenelle, Saenyelle, Saenyella, Serya, Serra, Serys, Saenir, Saenyx, Saenor, Viselya, Senial, Serial, Saerial, Visellan, Visarys, Visenna, Virenna

Canon — Baelon, Baela, Baelor, Balerion (Blackfyre), Valerion (Rest T)

Derived — Baelys, Baelar, Bael, Baelir, Alerion, Aleria, Aelir, Valeria, Valerys

Canon — Jaehaerys (T), Jacaerys (V), Lucerys (V), Jaehaera (T)

Derived — Lucerra, Lucerion, Jaehaerion, Jaerion, Lucerya, Jacaera, Jaena, Jaenelle, Jaecelle, Jaesir, Jaekar, Jaeron, Jaela, Jaelon, Jaelor, Jaerys, Haerys, Haera, Kael, Kaecion, Kaeciel, Kaecelle, Kaerys, Kaerion, Kaeriel, Lucarys, Jaeca, Nicerys, Nicaerys, Hecaerys, Nicerion, Hicaerys, Niceria, Nicae, Lucarya, Lucaenys, Lucaena, Nocorys

Canon — Lianna, Larissa (V [Andal? First Men?]), Alarra (FM [Massey]), Alyssa (V & T [Andal? FM?]), Alysanne (T)

Derived — Alysor, Lianys, Lianor, Sianna, Amanna, Alanna, Noranna, Narra, Nyssa, Anyssa, Alarya, Asenna, Norissa, Irenna, Orissa, Lysarra, Lisarra, Aranna

Canon — Valarr, Vaella (T)

Derived — Vaelys, Valarys, Alarys, Alarya, Valarya, Valarra, Vaellan

Canon — Gael, Saera, Shaera (T)

Derived — Saerys, Gaelys, Gaelor, Gaelon, Gaelion, Saerion, Shaerys, Shaerial, Shaerelle, Shaelle, Shael, Shaelys, Saevys, Shaerion, Gaela, Shaela, Shaehaera

Canon — Corwyn (V [Andal?]), Corlys (V)

Derived — Corla, Corlia, Corlaenys, Cora, Corys, Corlenys, Corlea, Corlae, Corvan, Corvana, Corvys

Malentine

Rhogar(/Rogar?/Rogare? [FM? HV?])

Monford

Monterys (All V)

Derived — Terys, Teraea, Taeraea, Taerion, Monys, Monerys, Montys, Rhogel, Malentys, Malenta, Monterion, Monterra, Mona, Monae, Monarra, Malentina, Lentys, Lenta, Lenya, Taenys, Taena, Alentys, Malya, Malys, Malea, Malena, Malenna, Malaena, Amalla, Alenna, Marissa, Monassa, Monessa, Monerra, Mosarra, Malarra, Malenys, Amarys, Mantys, Malta, Maltys, Maltine, Maltina, Amalta, Amaltine, Alta, Altys, Altarra, Maltar, Maltarys, Marion, Maltior, Malerion, Mornys, Mortys, Morton, Omorr, Omon, Malenion, Malenior, Almys, Monissa, Montissa, Montessa, Omona, Omorra, Maltion, Malton, Almont, Almae, Maltorra, Torys, Garys, Garla, Galtys, Torrine, Tarine, Maltarine, Maltarra, Almerra, Almarra, Almorra, Alterra, Lamina, Monta, Monte, Montae, Taera, Taerine, Taerin, Taerys, Manta, Almina, Almine, Rhonal, Rhonior, Rhomys, Almar, Malar, Malarr, Malarys, Almarys, Maline, Rhomalt, Rhomion, Rhomior, Rhomia, Rhoma, Rhoton, Rhomine, Rhomal, Rhogal, Rhomina, Rhomon, Rhomar, Rhomorr, Almassa, Rhomys, Rhomyn, Torial, Malial, Rhovys, Rhowyn, Matarra, Atarra, Rhomond, Rhomorra, Tormon

Matarys (T)

Derived — Matarya, Matara, Matys, Tarys, Tarya, Atara, Atarys, Tarial, Tarhael, Matarr

Canon — Orys, Borys, Orryn (Baratheon)

Derived — Orial, Ora, Orya, Orra, Borya, Boria, Boryl, Orelle, Orianne, Orael, Orrael, Orhael, Borion, Orion, Bora, Orian, Oryal, Oryas, Orias, Orios, Oryos, Rys, Ryssa, Ryssal, Orlisse, Rysla, Ryn, Rynel, Rynella, Boryn, Borryn, Rynal, Dorys, Orella, Dorella, Oryl, Orgillac, Orgyll, Borella, Borylla, Bolia, Bolas, Orlas, Ollyn, Olys, Olya, Orianna, Lorys

Bonus: Argellys

Canon — Maelys, Haegon, Aeryn, Calla, Rhalla, Shaena (Blackfyre)

Canon non-Westerosi Valyrians:

Jaenara Belaerys, Aurion

Canon Dragons:

Urrax, Terrax, Balerion, Vhagar, Meraxes, Vermithor, Caraxes, Meleys, Syrax, Vermax, Arrax, Tyraxes, Tessarion, Shrykos, Morghul, Viserion, Rhaegal

Unknown — Gaelithox?, Aegarax?

Original & HV Derived (some more suitable for dragons) — Aelsior, Qaelys, Qylys, Vhenys, Vhenya, Vhinyae, Vhanir, Vaenir, Vaenyx, Baelykos, Lykael, Lykaera, Raqael, Raqel, Raqys, Raqyssa, Raqissa, Raqar, Raqir, Raqor, Raqora, Raqior, Kionar, Malkion, Malkios, Vhaltir, Malkior, Vaedys, Vaedar, Elenys, Elenia, Elēnar, Elenarys, Elenarya, Elenara, Kostys, Kostir, Kostior, Pelarys, Pelonia, Pelonys, Eledrae, Eledrys, Eledryn, Peria, Perza, Perzys, Zysa, Amisor, Amisa, Aexior/Aeksior, Aexion/Aeksion, Raenion, Raenior, Qana, Qanys, Qantys, Ēbrior, Ēbrion, Ēbria, Jelmys, Jelmarys, Jelmazys, Jelissa, Tessarys, Tessara, Tessarae, Dessan, Dessenae, Hārys, Tōmarr, Tōmarys, Tōmasyn, Tessarax, Syrion, Syriel, Jēdarys, Jēdaria, Jorrael, Trēzos, Elilla, Vāedan, Ōrbēdon

Possible High Valyrian roots for names:

Rhaen — to; meet, find, encounter, discover

Bael — to help, to aid, to assist

Jael — to want, to wish/to store, to house

Jaelarys — hope (possible name)

[melodymidway]

Jaehaerys: *chooses Baelon over Rhaenys despite the law saying that a niece inherits before an uncle*

Fandom: She was usurped! Rhaenys should have been queen!

Viserys: *chooses Rhaenyra over Aegon despite the law saying that a son inherits before a daughter*

Fandom: He has no right to the throne! Usurper!

[ladyadaine]

"Who am I now in this world without her? Petty and dull, with the nerve to doubt her What does it matter? It's already done Now I've got to be there for her son"

"You won, and she chose you And she loved you and she's gone It's over, isn't it? Why can't I move on?"

[tell-them-the-north-remembers]

Daeron the Good ended the deeply troubling tradition of grooming children into incest. He was a good father to his children. He challenged his own shitty father's crazy schemes. He wed a Dornish princess whom he was a good husband to and did his best to get rid of the anti-Dornish sentiment in the Seven Kingdoms at the time. He kept wise and capable men around to advise him. He treated his bastard half-siblings with respect he didn't even owe them. He did what no Targaryen king before, including Aegon the Conqueror could and brought Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms, not by bloodshed but by diplomacy. He put down a massive rebellion. For 25 years he was king and the realm prospered under his rule. People literally remembered him as "the good".

But sure, Daemon Blackfyre should have been king because he had a cool sword and was a "True Targaryen". Because being a Targaryen king means being a bloodthirsty tyrant who mistreats the people around him and takes only his desires into account when making a move that will affect the lives of thousands. Daeron did everything just right, like no king has done before but still he is glossed over or worse, antagonized because he was simply not "cool enough".

King Daeron II cared, and to some people that is apparently boring.

[thehauntingofharrenhouse]

jace receiving some kind of triumphant resolution in this, establishing the ruler's right to legitimize bastards in everybody's minds > the next succession crisis resulting from a king legitimizing all his bastards to weaken the claim of a worthy heir > the rot seeps through, the system cannot be fixed!!! so long as the power of the throne is easy to abuse someone will eventually come along to abuse it!!!!

[atopvisenyashill]

This Is How I Can Still Win: How The Penroses Are Related to House Targaryen

SO. In case you don’t remember - you probably don’t, it’s a throwaway line and likely just George retconning and not doing it on purpose - Jeor Mormont misremembers Aelinor Penrose as being Aerys I’s sister instead of her cousin. Here’s the quote, from Jon I in A Clash of Kings:

"No, this was Aerys the First. The one Robert deposed was the second of that name.” “How long ago was this?” “Eighty years or close enough,” the Old Bear said, “and no, I still hadn’t been born, though Aemon had forged half a dozen links of his maester’s chain by then. Aerys wed his own sister, as the Targaryens were wont to do, and reigned for ten or twelve years."

Potentially, this means that Aelinor has ~the Valyrian look~ and that’s why Jeor got them mixed up. But when you look at the information surrounding the Penroses that existed in this era, it looks a little wonky because of this line from The Mystery Knight:

"At the crossing of the Mandel, he cut down the sons of Lady Penrose one by one. They say he spared the life of the youngest one as a kindness to his mother."

So how can Elaena marry Ronnel, Lord of the Parchments, only have one son, yet Quentyn Ball slew all of “Lady Penrose’s” sons? How is Aelinor related to the Penroses and the Targaryens? What woman of Targaryen blood would marry into this random ass house in the middle of Stormlands? Why was it so important to retcon Aelinor from a sister into a cousin? Well - let’s have a think about what other houses have recent Valyrian blood…we have some female lines after all…perhaps even Targaryen women that married into politically active houses, who would love to marry back into the main branch again…I wonder who that could be…..Oh what’s that? Is that-

DRAGON TWINS TIME.

Allow me to spin two family trees for you, one where Rhaena’s daughter marries into the Penroses, and one where Baela’s daughter marries into the Penroses:

(pls applaud me for the amount of math i did for this very unserious post!) green is a romantic/marriage line, black is a parental relationship.

I am noting that this would mean Alyssa (I made her name up btw, mostly because I thought it would piss Daemon off to have a Hightower named after his beloved mother) gives birth at around 34, which is a perfectly reasonable age to have a child at, and Laena gives birth at like 40, which is definitely a lil risky! BUT there’s plenty of time for Laena to have other children, and for a second born son to have had a child at that same age, so if you think it’s a stretch for Laena to have a kid at 40 (perfectly fair) just pretend there’s a son there named “Roland” or something as Aelinor’s dad and Laena’s second born.

Now, FIRST OF ALL, this makes the cousin thing make sense, but also it makes it deeply funny - Aelinor is Aerys’ great aunt’s granddaughter. That’s a close enough relationship that you would consider them a cousin but it’s also the exact relationship Robert has to Rhaegar (because Rhaegar is Robert’s great uncle’s grandson). Both Aerys and Robert avoiding incest/kinslaying on a technicality lol.

But SECOND OF ALL. Do you know what makes me absolutely fucjing feral about this. Alyn Velaryon is messing around with a woman so much younger than him. That she marries his GRANDSON. because SHE IS THE SAME AGE AS HIS GRANDSON. i feel like george is weird enough to do the Baela scenario too.

And LASTLY OF ALL. Notice there’s plenty of time for Alyssa/Laena aka Lady Penrose after she’s married, to have several sons for Quentyn Ball to slay on the Redgrass Field, including Elaena’s husband, Ronnel himself, and for Elaena’s son, Robin Penrose, to inherit the seat afterwards. It also means, since it’s mentioned that Elaena married Michael Manwoody soon after her second husband died, that the two of them got a long time together. Why is this important? Because Michael Manwoody was her marriage for love and I want Elaena to have been with him for a long time.

This scenario gives her like 9 years with Ronnel (kinda sad, their kids don’t get to know their dad very long) and a minimum of 15 years with Michael Manwoody, who is apparently not the step dad but the dad that stepped up.

[imaginarianisms]

im not even a major dunk & egg fan but i. still legit can't believe that they deadass cast a white man to portray baelor breakspear who is CANONICALLY NONWHITE. HE IS VISIBLY BROWN. HE IS A VISIBLY BROWN MIXED RACE TARGARYEN. & HE WAS THE LITERAL HEIR TO THE IRON THRONE. like. ppl get all stuck up that pedro pascal who plays oberyn martell is "spicy white" or w/e the fuck but ignore the sudanese actor, the indian actress, the black actresses, etc etc etc etc. like. the whole show franchise created an environment that encouraged casting for characters of color but when it comes to the targaryens they portray them as all white except for baela & rhaena in hotd & they barely do anything with them & its. genuinely infuriating. it's obvious cherry picking on their part bc OF COURSE they don't want to center characters of color when they could have pretty white people main characters. ie the velaryons & the dragon twins ie baela & rhaena being casted as black & mysaria & being sidelined by the writers & as an indigenous writer of color that's insulting. actors & characters & fans of color deserve so much fucking better than this bullshit. it's just racist colorist bs atp & i'm so tired of people making excuses for these writers. & you STILL see people say "dOrNe Is wHiTe!!!!!!!" or "tHe NoRtH cAnT pOsSiBlY bE InDiGeNoUs CoDeD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" while they BOTH literally experience inworld fantasy racism & then people STILL continue to pretend to act like both dorne & the north aren't treated differently than the rest of the seven kingdoms lmaoooooooooooo.

[jonquilspool]

criston cole got saint sebastian-ed this, criston cole got saint sebastian-ed that. fine okay sure. but if you don't think osgrey or butterwell had a hidden mural of daemon blackfyre on the redgrass field looking like this:

idk what to tell you bc they so did

[blackbyrenflowers]

Gormon Peake: Bittersteel be buggered. No bastard can be trusted, not even him.

The ghost of legitimized bastard Daemon I Blackfyre:

[unusual-raccoon]

Lord help me, I’m back on my Daemon II Blackfyre/Ser Duncan the Tall bullshit

[faerune]

i think the maesters of the citadel are aware of the rumors that argella was with child before her “death” as well as the vhassiri of tyrosh claiming valyrian blood but to accept a prominent merchant family of tyrosh as possibly being another line of the targaryens

opens a whole can of worms and i just don’t think anyone after the dance would want that and neither would any of the masters after due to the implications of it

[lgbthv]

brynden stans on twitter dot com tf do you know about bloodraven 🤨❓🎤

[acerola-tree]

oh no i'm getting lost in asoiaf wiki pages again nooooooooo

[atopvisenyashill]

in light of spoilers should i say i don’t care about most lancelot and guinevere romances actually aksjdj

[jonquilspool]

yeah yeah yeah the daemon blackfyre was on the wrong side of history i get it. however. i want to chew on him like i'm a dog and he's squeaky toy i'm trying to get the squeaker out of. so there.

[peachysunrize]

Insolent wench ⥃ Prince Regent!Aemond

Summary: when he finds the master of whispers’ daughter in the council room in the dead of the night playing with the marble ball he gave to Aegon earlier, the dragon in him is ready to burn or succumb to her.

Pairing: prince regent!Aemond Targaryen x Larys Strong’s daughter reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Dark content -> manipulation & blackmail! Dark!reader even a bit of dubcon, virginity loss, virgin!reader, degrading, rough sex, spanking, pussy slapping, breeding, fingering, porn with little plot, ehem using the ball as a toy, Larys’ daughter has zero description, English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 3.07k+

A/n: thank you @namelesslosers for giving me this dynamic idea & thank you @sylasthegrim for beta reading this for me🥹 Happy rough fucking with Aemond everyone🤭 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated!💕 also I was too lazy to make an aesthetic moodboard for my fic lol

He lurks in the corridors of the Keep that lead to the Small Council room. It has become his little secret, a routine he has always longed to have, and now, after months of yearning, he finally has it.

The halls are silent, and the sound of every step he takes echoes within the walls. Aemond walks with Blackfyre attached to his hip, the heavy weight of the Valyrian steel makes him smirk. Truly, he has never felt an emotion so deeply rooted inside him that makes the hair on his nape rouse, but now being the regent and the protector of the realm does it for him.

He stops for a moment when he finds the door to the council’s room ajar, the flickering of the candlelight visible from outside. He has never encountered anyone at such an hour, everyone has to be abed, except for the guards who are the ones that aren’t found anywhere near this room.

He takes a cautious step towards the door, hearing the sound of a low humming coming from inside. He reaches for Aegon’s dagger, fingers wrapping around the hilt as he pushes the door open slowly, his good eye skimming the room only to find someone’s back to him, leaning over the table and playing with his marble ball.

“A fine night, is it not, my Prince Regent?” you ask him, your back still to him as you fidget with the ball on the table, walking towards the King’s chair with a sway in your hips.

“What is your business here, Lady Strong?” he asks, letting go of the dagger before he locks his hands behind his back, walking towards his previous seat at the end of the marble desk.

He watches you closely, his good eye following your every move as you sit down on his chair at the head of the table, rolling the ball between your fingers as you look up from the ball to him slowly.

“I am disheartened by your words to my father,” you say, leaning back on the chair while your thumb rubs over the smooth surface of the marble ball in your hand, “he has served the King and your grace faithfully.”

Aemond doesn’t move from his spot, staring solely at your fingers as they rub and caress what belongs to him. He listens carefully, though he is not sure what good it might come out of conversing with a lady like you at such an hour.

“Your father sought power when he already had more than he deserved,” he replies, taking prolonged steps towards you, stopping at Tyland Lannister’s empty chair, “my council is no place for cunning rats like him.”

You chuckle, leaning your head on the back of the chair with a smirk tugging on the corner of your mouth, and it irritates Aemond to no end to see you finding such immense joy in tormenting him—even though you have not really started yet.

You were always such a strange lady to him; so much like your father in the sense that you stopped at nothing to obtain what you wanted".He has heard tales of your rebellious nature in the court, always listening and bothering the royals with your remarks, but they have failed to tell him about your blinding beauty.

“I thought you were ruling in your brother’s stead while he recovers, my prince,” you say, pushing the ball until it starts rolling towards where Aemond stands, “allegedly, this is his council, not yours.”

“Yet your father assumed he’d be my Hand, not my brother’s,” he moves the ball on the table as he walks towards Orwyle’s seat, his gaze never leaving yours, “it does make me wonder how hungry both he and you are for the attention of the royals, my lady.”

“Oh, you have mistaken my motives, your grace,” you stand up, stepping on the opposite side of him, matching his pace as he rounds the table with confidence until he’s standing behind the King’s chair, “I am not here to seek power or the attention of the royals, no. I am here to tell you that sometimes you need to think before you utter some words; ugly rats like my father as you said, tend to thrive on them, best is to learn how to say those words without causing a problem.”

“Mind your tongue, little girl,” Aemond spits out the words, closing his fingers around the ball tightly before he strides towards you purposefully with a tinge of fury in his steps.

“Not little, my prince,” you match his tone, standing where you are until he is right in front of you, the purple of his eye now fully gone as darkness seeps through his iris, “certainly older than you. I reckon you like older women, given your rendezvous to the brothel and all.”

His hand comes up to grip your jaw, squishing your cheeks harshly as he looms over you, his face inches away from yours as his nostrils flare in anger.

“Watch yourself, insolent wench. You are in no position to drag my name in the dirt. Your father tried, and look where he is now—called a Toad by me, dismissed as my Hand and ready to fetch Otto Hightower like a dog,” he says through gritted teeth, his nails digging into your face as he leans closer, his hot breath hitting your lips.

“Your name is already filthy by your own hands. You and Larys Strong have more in common than you think; both kinslayers—“ he cuts you off by spinning you away from him, pushing you down on the table roughly by his large palm on your back.

“Filthy whores like you should be executed in the muddy streets of Flea Bottom and their heads parading around the city on a spike,” he presses himself against your back, his crotch rubbing against your skirt, “Lucky for you, I know how to treat girls like you.”

“I assumed His Grace took no pleasure in taking whores,” you laugh with a jab in your tone at him, “I would love to see how you treat them though. Your brother is the one with tales of his masterful bedding, not you.”

“Tormenting me at the hour of the wolf has severe consequences which I will deliver to you accordingly, Strong,” he groans against your ear, reaching for his dagger to tear through the fabric of your dress, the remaining layers falling on the floor with ease. “Punishment or not, you will learn you shall never wake the dragon for you will burn and the only thing that will remain is your ashes.”

Your small clothes join your ruined dress on the floor, leaving you bare and dripping to the Prince Regent’s eye, devouring the sight of your flesh like a man starved.

The moan that slips from your lips when you feel something cold against your heated cunt is shameless, just like the sound a whore in the Street of Silk would make. 

Aemond starts rubbing your buzzing pearl with the marble ball between his fingers, his breathless laugh against the shell of your ear only makes the feeling of the coldness against your most vulnerable part much stronger.

“You were playing with my property, now I shall use it to make you a property of mine as well,” he whispers, his teeth sinking in the flesh of your neck as he moves the ball faster, your juices flowing down on the cold stone in his hand.

You realize you have awakened the beast within him as he quickens his movements, one hand pinning you to the table and the other rubbing the bundle of nerves furiously, tightening the knot in your core. You fist your hands, nails digging into your palm as your breathing turns into panting.

“It is in your blood it seems, to enjoy having the attention of someone who can easily snap your neck in half,” he mumbles more to himself than you, pleased with how shaky you have become, “you see, insolent wenches like you should be put in their place. How fortunate you are to be under my care.”

As soon as you feel your breaking point, he takes away the ball from your cunt, making you whine and arch your back in protest. He chuckles darkly, bringing the ball to your lips before he orders you to suck and clean the ball off your juices.

“My Prince—“

“Go on, you tart, show your prince how much of a power-hungry slut you are, maybe I will reconsider naming your father as my Hand.”

You comply, licking your nectar off the cold marble, humming at the taste. Aemond knows these games, at least he knew them with the little education he had in the brothels, but you? You are a different kind of lady, a master in disguise. It irritates and arouses him to no end.

Aemond lets go of the stone, bringing his palm down on your arsecheek roughly, making you yelp in surprise. He repeats his action, slapping your backside one more on the same spot he did a few seconds ago. 

You whine in pain and unbelievable pleasure as the sting of his hand spreads through your flesh, a deep primal desire rushing to your aching pussy. He looks down to find you wetter than before, and the sight makes him almost lose his self-restraint, almost.

You wrap your hand around the ball tightly, crying out when you feel the impact of another spank not on your bottom but on your cunt. The pain mixes with an undeniably overwhelming pleasure that has you biting your lip, not wishing to give him the satisfaction. He senses it anyway and hears the muffled scream as he lands another slap on your swollen folds with a sinister smile. 

“I wonder if your father knows of your whereabouts, his daughter ready to be turned into his future king’s whore,” he brings two of his fingers to his mouth, covering them with his spit before he reaches down to play with your pussy, no patience left in him as he thrusts his fingers inside you, groaning at the feel of your warmth.

You do not have the chance to tell him about your maidenhead, and with how fast he is moving his fingers, you can no longer think of it as an issue — your plans are falling into the right path.

Your mind has turned into a mush with how luscious his fingers feel inside you, not a foreign feeling but his fingers are much longer and thicker than you and reach deeper inside you, having you moaning and clawing the table.

“It only takes a few fingers to have your mouth shut, Lady Strong. I wonder what you’d do when I have my cock deep in your cunt,” he leans down to lick at your cheek, his fingers moving faster as he presses his bulge to your thigh. This time, he doesn’t pull away and keeps his pace up, curving his digits to hit your sweet spot rapidly, bringing you closer to your high. 

“My prince, please—“

“That’s it, Strong, give it to me,” he groans out the words, resting his forehead on the side of your face. He hums as soon as you start shaking and tightening around his fingers, gushing your wetness on him.

He doesn’t kiss you, no, he just licks over your lips as you moan and part them in pure delight, seeing stars as your peak rocks your body forward. 

“Fuck it, I need to be buried inside you, seeing for myself how the real blood of Strongs feels like,” he says, biting your cheek as he pulls his fingers out, wiping them on the red handprint on your bottom before reaching for his doublet, unbuttoning it and pulling his linen undershirt out of his leather pants. His fingers unlace his trousers quickly, pushing them and his breeches down enough for his cock to spring free.

He aligns his leaking tip with your soaked entrance, filling you to the hilt with one swift snap of his slim hips. Aemond groans, your wet pulsating walls enveloping his length in a delicious way that not even Sylvie has made him feel.

His hands make a home on your hips as soon as he starts thrusting his cock at a fast bruising pace, not letting you adjust to how his girth stretches your walls more than you thought you’d expect. Your maidenhead is now gone, you can feel his tip licking at the head of your womb, nudging it with each snap of his hips to yours.

Aemond cannot take his eye off of the way his cock disappears inside you, coated with your essence and wetness as he fucks you with abandon, his brain foggy with a desire he has only felt while burning his brother and killing his nephew—you are special in his eye, you awaken the dragon within him, insolent wench as he so likes to call you.

Your hands grow clammy, and the ball falls from your grasp with Aemond’s rough hammering, rolling on the table until it falls on the floor, making a loud uncomfortable noise that matches your unladylike moans and gasps in pleasure.

“You can’t even hold a fucking ball in your hands, Strong. Is your father as weak as you? Will he succumb to me the way you have with just a cock inside your tight pretty cunt?”

It is you who has succumbed to me, you think to yourself as coherent as your thoughts can get without the feeling of him overwhelming your senses. You nod mindlessly, thinking of how he has fallen into your trap so easily.

He comes hard, his hip bones pushing your plush thighs to the rough edges of the council’s table, filling you to the brim with his royal seed. Aemond’s head is thrown back, groaning at your name as his cock twitches inside you, the final ropes of his warm cum painting your walls.

“What have you done?” you ask shakily, faking terror as you try to push him away from you, 

“what— how could you, my prince?”

“What?” he asks dumbfounded, pulling his now softened cock out of you, looking at you with his mind now sharper than before, “what are you saying, my lady?”

“Which lord will now take me as his bride? I am—may the Seven help me— I am tainted! I-I cannot find a husband, m-my maidenhead!”

“You…” Aemond’s voice falters, “you were… you were still a maiden?”

“I was! How crude you have to be to sully my name like a- like the whores you visit? I cannot believe you—“

“Wait!” he tries to reach for you, his lips parted in sheer surprise and terror as you push away from him, nearly dropping on his knees, “My Lady, we should have a word—“

“No!” You fix your dress as best as you could, shaking your head as you run away from him, opening the doors without even looking at him, leaving him shocked and confused with his soft dick out, looking like a deer caught by the hunters.

With so little sleep, Aemond walks through the same hallways he took last night, waltzing inside the small council with a pulsating heart. His eye finds Larys alone in the room, humming as he plays with the marble ball you — his daughter — were playing with last night.

“My Prince Regent,” Lord Larys stands up and bows, “what a lovely day, do you not think so?”

“Lovely morrow indeed,” Aemond says, sitting at the head of the table, glaring at Larys who rolls his marble ball from side to side, “state your mind or leave me.”

“My daughter, Your Grace,” Larys sighs, a ghost of a smirk finding its way onto his face, “she was… in a not-so-pleasant state for her status when she sought me out.”

“What of her?” Aemond tries to remain unbothered, but he knows there is a scheme going on that his intelligence could not pick up on last night.

“She said you forced yourself upon her,” Larys drops the ball on the floor as he locks his hand on the table, his eyes meeting Aemond’s, glaring at him with newfound confidence, “that no Lord will take her now, that you have tainted and impured my daughter!”

“I assure you, my good Lord, that is a lie. Your daughter was the one who made me do it—“ he tries to reason with him, but Larys has none of it.

“So you admit that you yielded to your desires and took my daughter’s innocence! How wild, how disgusting! To know I wished to be in your council—“

“‘Mind your tongue, Lord Larys. I do not care if you are to leave the Keep, but you will not talk to me as if I’m lesser than I was before!” Aemond’s voice booms through the room, slamming his fist on the table as he stands up.

“You are a lesser man, Prince Aemond. A man who gave into his desires and used his power over a helpless noble woman…”

“What is it you wish for me to do? I have not forced myself upon your daughter, she partook in the act willingly if not more enthusiastically than me.” Aemond’s breathing changes and his knuckles turn white as he tries to stop himself from doing something he would surely regret.

“She was crying in my arms last night—“

“Name it and it is yours!” Aemond yells at him, walking to grab Larys by his collar, “You want me to name you my Hand? I will. But in return, you shall keep your mouth shut.”

“You are in no position to tell me what to do, my prince,” Larys calms down a bit, knowing the plan he and you have made has been done perfectly, “you will make me your Hand, and you will marry my daughter in a fortnight.”

“Not acceptable! We will lose Baratheons’ support!” Aemond shoves Larys back on his seat before he starts pacing, “You are my Hand from now on, and I will arrange a good match for your daughter.”

“No, she will be the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, or I will taint your reputation the way you have done to my daughter.” 

Rest assured, Larys Strong’s only child married the former Prince Regent and now the King in a fortnight with a lavish feast thrown for her.