#gevī

[insufferablelust]

GEVĪ [BEAUTIFUL] Aemond Targaryen x F!Sister!Reader

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Two dragons, hatched from the same womb, nurtured by the same hands, yet bestowed with different fates— how do you, rekindle your love for Aemond after he has left you to pursue your mother and brother’s wishes? well he will show you how.

Words counted: 7.2k

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy corruption kink, breeding kink, Slight exhibitionism (Sex next to window), Choking, Claiming of maidenhood, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of blood (nothing graphic), Slight angst (mention of fidelity and arguments nothing heavy), Mention of usurping the throne (half-canon), LOTS of pet names (i’m a sucker for those).

Hello! this is my second HOTD character fic, yes this one is smutty too lol, its a filler i wish to post before posting the completed requests, this is NOT BETA’d, because i’m slammed with work so I apologize, however, a friend of mine will try to beta this soon (so it’ll be revised). Remember that english is not my native language so bear with me. My request is always open for HOTD characters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

The soft pitter patter sound of your nieces and nephews makes you giggle in delight, their tiny puffy hands clutching the dragon figure, making gestures of flying them around, as they make sounds to imitate the giant beasts. Jaeherys and Jaehaera were playing on your personal chambers, as you hand invited your older sister, Helaena, to have a chat. You have always try and take care of Helaena, even when she is the older one, you hold a strong contentment to make sure she is alright, especially knowing her hardened path with that of your older brother, the King himself.

“Do you have a name for this one, sweet Prince?” You tenderly asked Jaehaerys, taking one of the dragons on the soft fur carpet up ahead of his line of sight, “Sunwyre!” Jaehaerys exclaimed excitedly, making you throw your head back and laugh softly, his mispronunciation have always warmed your heart, the innocent nature of children, their pure conscience, not yet tainted by royally duties, nor know the taste of power, their world filled with imaginary tales, and make-do creatures.

“Your father’s dragon hm? and what about… this one?” You hold another dragon figure now, a bigger one than the last, this one has the color of dark green, oddly reminding you of a certain someone’s dragon. Ah. “Vhagaw!” it was Jaehaera’s turn to answer, a shy quiet little girl just like you once were, but bright and intelligent nonetheless. Your lips curled into a warm smile, eyes crinkling at the adoration of your niece and nephew. You had hopes for them, even through this impossible times, that they uphold the values of their mother, Helaena, more than they do that of your older brother, Aegon.

“Vhagar? uncle Aemond’s dr—“

“Hm, the most powerful one, isn’t that right, Jaehaera?”

Your head snapped backwards as you heard his velvety voice, gulping quickly at the moment you caught sight of his figure, standing tall, leaning against the entryway of your chambers, head tilted, eyes darted to you, and lips stretched in a knowing grin.

“Aemond…”

It has been awhile since you saw him last, having been too angry to bid him farewell when he went on his way to propose a marriage deal between he and one of Lord Baratheon’s daughters. He sought you out for hours leading up to his leave and the days afterwards, yet you always manage to elude him, breaking your regular routine of breaking your fast with him, and retreating to your chambers at the earliest convenience, even strictly telling the guards stationed at your door to never let anyone in, even the Prince himself, not that they can say much if he insisted, but you know if he heard of your hardened resentment, he would never push you. No, not his little sweet sister, the delight of his days, the beacon of his visions, the only decadent part left from his viscous life.

You had spent your days crying inside your chambers, for you know it was selfish of you to be mad at him for doing his duty, but the pain had eaten its way through your heart, gnawing ever so brazenly through your sanity. You had refused to talk to your mother, only limiting few chosen ladies of your maids to be of assistance to you— once telling Alicent that you have no desire with entangling yourself in her business to Aegon’s crowning.

You see, Aemond and you were always inseparable, from the day you were born, he had been so infatuated by the small babe cradled by his mother, someone other than Helaena that he saw his mother doted on, he admitted that he was jealous of the treatment both you and Daeron received, something he never felt from his own mother, but alas your soft velvet nature is incredibly difficult to resist, not by his mother and well, certainly not him. A pretty little thing you are. Always so gentle, docile, never fuss much even as an infant. He would always play with your babbling lips when you talked about your lessons, or how you have dreamed on claiming a dragon of your own.

Your silver locks of hair as the curtain to your beautiful supple face, eyes alike his— lilac with tinges softer, your pink dewy lips… oh the stuff of dreams to him, curve of your neck which usually adorned by the various jewels your mother sought out for you, your enticing figure— growing into a grown Princess that bewitched him beyond belief. You are the epitome of everything he was not and never will be, an angelic dew scented nymph, to his raging soulless dragon.

Growing up with you alongside him was what made his life bearable, even through all the bullying he has suffered by the hands of his own brother, and nephews as well as the petulant ignorance of both of your parents, you made it all somehow possible. You would tend to him, fill his days with the stories and knowledge you have learnt from your Septa, blabbering about the story of the Conquerer’s war in the Dornish region, and fluttering his heart when you speak of your pious upbringing, obviously influenced by his mother.

It was you who cleaned his wounds when Aegon had pushed him too far, it was you who always listened to his heart’s content— during his darkest depleted epoch, it was you who wiped his tears after he was presented with a pig by his brother and nephew, sweet you— who have claimed yourself a dragon, one gentle hatchling when an egg was placed on your cradle. He was wary then, that you too, would cast him away, make him feel small— but alas he had judged you too quickly, for you never do any of his blackest imaginations, instead you would warm him up to your little dragon, a gesture which granted him confidence to later tame the beast herself, Vhagar.

But he had left you. For some other Baratheon girl. He left you to crawl into your hole of despair and insecurities. Damning yourself on what had you done for fate to be so cruel to you. What had you done for the Gods to banish his hands away from your own.

“Sister…”

His tone had been gentle, you looked away as you could not even peer into his eyes for you know he would be able to see the looming tears on your gentle violet eyes, one he had seen in his dreams each night since his return back to the Keep.

“Here, Jaehaerys, how about you play with Sunfyre, hm?” Your voice was shaky, eyes fleeting everywhere but at him, you are desperate to run away, anywhere but here, “Jaehaera, come, accompany your brother with Vhagar, yes?”

“Yes, auntie.”

“Good girl, Jaehaera, my sweet princess.” You kissed her temple lovingly, feeling saddened that you had to pry away from your niece and nephew so soon, but you had to go away, “Helaena, I must go, I shall catch you later during supper, yes?” Your eyes met that of your older sister’s distant ones, who just hummed, as she continued to draw some sketches on her brown paper. You were always grateful for her inquisitive mind, now more-so. Pecking a small kiss to her temple before standing up.

“Little one wait—“ You felt his hands graze the peeking flesh underneath the slit of your gown, the touch was— exhilarating, igniting that dragon fire inside of you once more, yet you paid it no mind, not now, you thought. Heels walking past him, making a beeline towards your reading chamber, the only place where you can escape.

Sighing softly, your eyes shut tight, the memory of his voice, his touch, his look, and even the feeling of his breath so close yet so far away, it makes you shudder. Gods, you think. Even after leaving you astray for days, he still leaves such an imprint on you, as if he had claimed you from inside out, and you have naught but a small grasp on your will to deny him.

You moved aside, setting yourself beside the door as you slowly drop to your knees, head thrown back against the wall— heart beating way too quick for your own comfort, what in the Seven hells—

“I thought I’d find you here…” You jumped slightly at the sound of your chamber doors opening as well as the sound of his voice again, of course he’d find you here, you thought, he was the one that had begged your mother to designated this place to become your safe haven in the first place, he always found your love for Old Valyrian literature to be as magnificent as you are, and had wished to accommodate you with all there is to know— a tutor, the ancient tomes, and the room itself.

“I do not wish to see you.” You stilled your gaze to the balcony far ahead of you, distracting yourself from his overwhelming presence— his voice, his tall lean figure, his musky smell that strongly resembles home for you, and his oh so devoted attention. “You do not mean that…” There’s a pang of guilt when you heard the softness of his voice, yet you ought to scoff and bit your lip instead.

“You know nothing of my wants or desires, brother.” You cringed at the shakiness of your own tone, scolding yourself at your constant reverie of him, making you lost inside your own thoughts, with tongue too numb, and throat too tight, “Why don’t you fly back to your Baratheon girl on Storms End? you ought to be excited to wed her, are you not?” Venom laced your voice, nails digging onto the soft lilac ensemble you had worn today. He chuckled.

How dare he.

“Little one…” He trailed, crouching down beside you, his thumb and index finger reach out to grip your chin softly yet demandingly all the same, you struggled against him, “Ah ah, do not fuss now.”

“Let me go.”

“Look at me, sweet girl, please?”

Sometimes you wish that the Seven could just curse your brother out for a bit, so that you do not have to be subjected to your own weak will against his own domineering charm, you looked up at him albeit reluctantly, oh how have you torn him to pieces with that look alone.

Your eyes are glistened with unshed tears, lips flushed and slightly pouty just as you used to do when you were a child— begging him to stop studying history and to play with you instead, Aemond does not know how does one capable to hold his life in the gentle crook of their palm, but here you are… his precious little sister, the core of his being.

“There you are, pretty princess..” He gently trace his knuckles across your cheek, then down your jaw, neck, and move to tuck strands of your silver locks behind your ears, softly caressing your hair, “What is it that makes you so restless, hm?” You scoffed at his pathetic attempt to sound dumb to your dilemma, knowing he is far too smart to not know.

“You left me, lēkia.” Brother. Your eyes darted away again before he tuts and tugs at your chin once more, “You know I only do what is asked of me, gevī, to help Aegon secure his throne…” Beautiful.

“Yet, you could not have proposed a better deal?” Your gaze sharpened at him, heart tugging tight at your ribcage, suddenly remembering his promise to you when you were once only seven, and then again during every single one of your name day.

I will never leave you, dōnus ñuhys, you are destined to be my queen, for all the Seven can never deny us.

“Tis’ my duty, sweetling, you know I—“ You rolled your eyes at that, tugging your chin free from his hold but remain your gaze at his own, “So it seems that you have chosen your duty over me then, brother, I should have known I was never more than a vessel to fill your desires with.”

“Left you for a few days, and you run your tongue as you please hm?” You shivered, flush heat spreading through your skin, down to the apex of your thigh, Gods, “Do you deny it, Aemond?” You gulped down your nerves, eyes finding his lips tilted in amusement, his little endeavor has left his sweet girl went feral, it seems.

“A vessel for my desires, you say… little one, how can you be just that when you have me wrapped around your little fingers—“ You were about to retort back, “Ah ah, let me speak.” He grabbed your fingers in his, tilting his head like how he did when you were kids. “All of this, I do for you, as to keep you safe, if that takes me to wed some girl to put you on the throne as My Queen, then tis’ a sacrifice worth my lifetime.”

“How come you do this for me if we shall never be together?” A tear fell from your eyes at last, unable to form other ways to express your distress, “If it is the throne that takes you away from me, I never want it.” You averted your gaze for you know that your brother has always desired Aegon’s throne even before it was bestowed upon the eldest, and he will do whatever it takes go get it as it was his birthright.

“Pretty girl with such pure wishes, you are.” He mused, both hands come up to cusp your jaw, directing your eyes back at him, clicking his tongue, “I will not let you get any less than what you deserve, the realm at our feet with you by my side.” For sure you could never conclude which is sharper, his stare that makes your spine tingle, or his words— full of high promises, one that is dangerous to talk aloud, one that would grant him a harsh slap on the cheek from Mother, one that can cost him his tongue.

“But… Aeg—“

“Do not let that worry your pretty head, little one, just trust me like you always have hm?” His promises were too sweet to resist, the temptation to breach what is beyond the comprehension of your family is too ripe for the taking, you are sure that if either your grandsire or mother have heard of this, you both will never set foot in King’s Landing again, but alas your childhood fairytale always clung to him, his words are inescapable… and well, if he will be damned as the consequences, then you may as well join him, for the world is a dull one without his devotion.

You crack out a tiny smile, one he always cherishes, once it was the center of his boyish infatuation, then it became the only thing other than Vhagar rumble or the promise of the cold hilt of Blackfyre that enlighten his youth, then it became his end goal, your smile— your beautiful oh so sweet saccharine smile. Fuck.

“You know I will always tru—mm!”

The declaration has yet to leave your lips, barely through your tongue when suddenly his breathing fawns over your cupid’s bow, the feeling was exhilarating, his lips—warm lips engulfing your own, gentle at first, like how he had kiss you once, twice, thrice when you were younger— the last one being the night before your sire had died, a day before he set out his proposal to the Baratheons, oh how you’ve missed this— him.

His palm hold a strong grip on the side of your neck, making you gasp and bringing you back slightly down to earth, you didn’t even realize you were floating in the bliss this whole time, “Aem—“ Your sweet voice, he thinks, so soft whimpering his name that the sound is enough to make his breech tighten. Aemond cuts you off by kissing you harder this time, tongue prodding against your lips so you may grant him an entrance to your wet cavern.

When you showed a little resistance through your teasing giggle he bit the bottom of your lip— now red and raw from his ministrations, you mewl deliciously, as he takes his chance to slip his tongue inside, oh, you think, the pressure is so immense, the swirl of his tongue tangling with your own overwhelms you. Aemond explores every inch of you, his thumb grazing at the pulse point on your neck, making you shudder and slightly arch your back to reach out for him, before he parted you both.

“Uh what—“

“Stand up, Princess.” He commanded, holding his hand out to help you up, you tried to stand as steady as you could but there is no mistaking the way your knees wobbled ever so slightly— damn him for making you so weak, Gods.

He spared you no time to muddle with your thoughts before pressing you to the wall beside the door, you whimpered at the sudden force, but he is careful on placing his palm behind your neck to protect your delicate head from the intrusion with the wall. “Aemond, what are we doing?” You asked, eyes glimmering with adoration, admiration, love, lust, fear, anticipation, and everything in between.

He smiled at you, scorching hot sent right to the core on the apex of your thighs, his eye flutter shut before pressing his forehead against yours, his nose also nudged into your own, lips flushed against your quivering one, “What we should have done a long time ago, sweetling.” Aemond moved his fingers to graze against the column of your neck, “Making you mine, in every sense there is, wholly.”

You trembled at that, if it weren’t for his strong grip on your hips and neck, your knees would have buckled and fell then on, you take a deep breath— closing your eyes before entangling your hands around his neck, pressing your lips back to his awaiting red, now tongue and teeth battling in the midst of pure pleasure, hot white whines, and mewls escaped your throat.

Aemond’s arms slipped from his grip on both your neck and hips, crouching down slightly— lips still interlocking with yours ferociously, he hooked them up under the back of your knee before pulling you towards his hips, you moaned through his lips, “Ah!” Wrapping your legs around his back, he effortlessly carry you to the nearby table— places you on top of it, one that so conveniently sat beside the oh so grand window overlooking the surrounding area of smallfolks outside the Keep.

“I have waited years to do this, riñītsos.” He grunts against your lips, you claw at his neck seeking him closer and closer to you, for any space between you felt like a void of infinity— fearing that it, too, will take him away from you again, “to devour you as I please…” He trailed, lips canvassing your skin with heated marks, first the corner of your lips, then to your jaw— oh and your most sensitive part, on the column of your neck. You shivered and let out a wanton whine. Little girl.

“To take you as I want to…” His teeth graze against your pulse as you arch your back, eyes sewn shut, pretty girlish pink lips parted with melodic whimpers escaping them, your skin heated— hands grabby for him, “To make you mine, my little petal.” You gasped as he bites down at the exposed skin, “Aemond!” Your cunt is surely drenching your smallclothes by now, but you spared it no thoughts, for you are too meddled in your blissful paradise.

“When the time comes,” After making his mark, albeit the color is a gentler one than he’d hoped, he grazes his fingers along the silk of your white dress, right atop of where the fabric seal the supple flesh of your breasts, the delectable bud that begs to be caressed, sucked, and worshipped, “Will you let me, hāedar?” His eye glinted at you, so gentle yet ravenous all the same, “Kessa, lēkia.” Yes, brother.

He passionately grunted, pressing his forehead against yours as his nimble fingers unlaced the intricate details of your dress, you are glad that you wore a rather relaxing dress today, for it is not so hard for him to loosen the laces and let it gently fall from your body— the silk pooling at your thigh against the desk, “Gevī.” He muttered as his eyes scanned through your ever so soft skin, from the way your neck is slightly arched backwards from your heavy breathing, your exposed collarbone, to the oh so mouthwatering swell of your breasts. He can feel his breeches tightening to the point of painful tugs, not that he cares much. Beautiful.

“Kostilus, Aemond…” You whimpered when his lips ghosted over your collarbone, “Ah ah, quiet, Princess.” His deep amber voice rattles your spine like no other, “Let me taste you.” He whispered, fingers moving to tug a gentle grip at the reddened and darkened bud on your breasts, “Mmnh!” You moaned delicately, arching your back with your palm flat against the desk behind you, your figure enticing and inviting him even closer. Please.

You bit your lips hard— harder than you should when Aemond engulfed the blood filled buds up to his lips, he goes gentle at first, suckling like small babe would but then he grows ferocious— “Gods!” You yelped as he bit at the hardened flesh, causing you to shiver once more, bucking your hips to try and assuage the building pressure at your cunt, now wet and weeping to be filled. Him… by him.

Aemond did not dare stopping his ministrations, one hand tugging on the other one as he continues to suckle on your nipples greedily, your nails dug through the hard material of the desk but you have naught care to it, for your brother is keeping your nerve ends alive— lit with fire and blood.

“Your purity has always been mine to corrupt, little one…” He trails as he moved to crouch down, his lips also trailing a soft kisses path down your tummy, to your navel before tugging at your dress a tad bit forcefully, as it fell to the floor below, he makes a quick move to release you of your smallclothes, wasting no time to stare intensely at your now exposed fluttery soaked cunt, “My my, Princess… look at you…” He groaned, making you mewl.

“S-stop looking at… me like that.” Your hand moved downward in a shy attempt at covering your now exposed flushed mound, which he clicked his tongue at— as if he is scolding you, and grip your wrist tightly, “You will not deprive me of seeing what is mine, sweetling…” He keeps a hold of your wrist, as you wiggle about, “Your cunt is mine, to taste, fuck…”

“Aemond…” You can no longer hold the wanton sounds originating from your bewildered state, body so flushed with heat and desire that your mind has reduced to blank fuzzy space of just him, him, him.

“Mine to own.” His other thumb move closer to your heat before pressing it softly against the throbbing bud that is your pearl, “I— ah! w-what…” Mix of confusion, thrilling pleasure, and indescribable rush flows through you when you feel the blissful pain from his fingers that had pinched your pearl, you desperately try to keep your moans and tears at bay, however, that proves to be fruitless when Aemond decided to replace his fingers with his mouth. You were done for.

“Slow down! mmnh!” You writhe in his hold, feeling his tongue slide from the fluttering of the silky entrance of your cunt and drags your sweet nectar up against your pearl, the bud thrumming in attention, relishing in the licks and suckle of his sinful lips, “Seven hells, riñītsos…” He let out an sadistic chuckle against your dripping petal, making you shudder, “You open up so beautifully… for me, tastes better than any Westerosi wine.” You clench tightly on nothing, he hummed at the sight. Little girl.

“Please please!” You begged, your body folding, grasping his silky locks on your hand, Aemond looks up at you with so much vigor as he continue working his tongue and lips on your cunt, the constant ah-ah-ah leaves your mouth, filling his ears. Aemond pushes a finger past your flushed opening, “Relax, sweetling, let me in.” He said with faux gentleness.

“I—oh!” Your peachy lips drops and your tongue lolls out at the intrusion of his index finger, curling it up as he inches in, your cunt is tight, tighter than anything— and you are not just any maiden, he thought, you are his sweet little maiden of a sister, “Syz riña.” He hummed against your nub, continuing his earlier work of suckling on your pearl as his finger eases in and out of you. Good girl.

You can only gasp and let out strings of mewls at the feeling, it’s so good, you think, so so so good— it feels better than being intoxicated in goblets of wine, it feels better than any gifts you have ever been given as a Princess of the realm, it feels better because it is given by Aemond, you concluded.

Your lips curled in pleasurable tandem, feeling your cunt clench like blooming flower around him, his lips leave you no choice but to submit to both him, and your upcoming peak. There is a strange yet powerful tugging at the base of your tummy, something about to snap— “Aemond.. I.. Gods, I think—“ You mewled desperately.

He looked up to you then, smiled and chuckled deeply, “Tis’ okay, little one, peak for me.” He urged you, mouth suckling around your peal, biting at the nub almost mockingly, combining with how the tip of his finger right on the spongy part inside you, curling them with purposeful jabs— your only response is a high pitched scream of his name followed by strings of girlish pet-like mewls as your cunt gush around his fingers.

“Good girl, my good Princess.” Aemond cooed, his tongue greedily lapping up the sweet saccharine nectar from the now fluttering oversensitive tightness of your cunt, “Mmh.. c-can’t..” You wiggle from his hold, shaking your head as your body shake with the aftershocks of your heightened pleasures— the feeling is akin to that of when you rode your dragon, Valyx, the majestic red winged creature that bonded with you.

“Shh, I know, too much hm?” Aemond hummed, releasing his finger out of you as your opening winked at him— what a petal of a slut you are, made just for him, pure and ever so decadent—“What did.. what happened, Aemond?” Oh you looked at him so so softly, demure and skittish, shy. Just like a kitten would. He suppressed the way his cock is begging for release just at the sight of your corrupted flushed face, and shivering body.

“You peaked, sweetling.” His voice deepened considerably, as does his lilac eyes, “Peaked? oh… like..” Your hands went to cover your face as you heated up, only for him to click his tongue and grip your wrist tightly, “Ah-ah, no need to be shy, little one. It felt good, didn’t it?”

“Yes but—“

“But no, Princess, from now on you should expect to feel like that from me, understand?” His voice is soft, although strained by lust and his desire to just fuck you then and there, he had to wait though, anything to make you feel more at ease with your body and the pleasure he brings to you. His innocent little sister.

“I suppose that’s okay…” You whispered timidly, which causes his heart to flutter, Gods, he will give you the fucking moon and rebuild Old Valyria from its ashes if it so pleases you, “Did you— did you do that to Floris too?” You asked, eyes are darted to anywhere but him.

He sighed, “Poppet, what are you talking about hm?” You shrugged, oh his sweet angel, always such a possessive little thing you are, knowing what you want yet restricted by your gentle nature, “I have not and shall never give that to anyone but you, my sweet, t’was a deal I myself never planned on following through.” He said, looking up at you— his eyes glinted with nothing but honesty and love for you, you’d know because of the numerous time he had lied on not being in pain after the torment he had suffered at the hands of your own brother and nephews.

“But what about Aegon, and mother?” You whispered, now looking at him, “Won’t they be furious if they knew? wouldn’t it be… treason?” The word leave an acid feeling on your tongue, it feels like you’re accusing him, Aemond knows you better than anyone else though, he knows you mean no foul— it showed you care for him.

“They can voice out their complaints to me when I am King, little one, it matters not.” Your wyes widened at his implication, excitement and thrill oddly runs through your blood at his declaration, Gods, you have no more care for formalities or ideals, not when he is here— not when this is what you can have.

“Brother…” Both of your palms come up to cusp his face, your finger gently peel the eye patch he wears— the movement has his eye fluttering, yet he bears no resentment to your action, only affection, “I want you, take me as you wish.” You are many things, hesitant in your steps— that innocence shines through most of the time, but none came when you said that, only truth and love. Solely devout to him.

Something animalistic flashes through the glint of his eyes, something feral, so driven by passionate affection, devotion, and lust—eternally for you, “As my Princess’s wish.” He muttered before standing up fully to his height, making you crane your head up to look at him. You watched as he tugs his coat and sleeves off, your eyes danced on his pale skin— his sapphire that taunts you with promise of unnerving fealty, and overwhelming dominance.

Exposing his upper body to you, your finger trail a feather light touches to his skin, a tad of your innocence apparent in the way you felt him yet you’re also teasing him with how you press on certain spots, in which he only smiled and chuckled at you—his wanton little slut wrapped in a saint goddess bodice of a Princess— admiring the way his muscles tense, the way his masculine musk penetrated your senses— so his, so so his.

Aemond then tugs his breech loose, letting it drop to the stone floor below— there he is, permeated by the sun shining through the slit of window, all in his naked glory— so enticing, your mouth waters as you gazed him fully— mouth agape, a loud gasp slipped from your mouth as your eyes focuses on the throbbing length of his cock, oh you almost cooed, he is hard—length so full with blood and tension, it looked like it was going to burst, the veins protruding on his shaft, darkened and angry, his tip is flushed a reddish color— thick and inviting, with the opening dripping with his arousal— oh how you would so easily taste him.

Your fingers swiftly went down to grasp his length, thumb about to swipe away the spend on his tip before he holds your wrist—you looked up at him like a child would, he was vastly reminded of a face you’d make as a little girl when he had taken away your lemon cakes just for fun— oh your pouty raw and bitten lips, your puffed out cheeks, your eyes that radiates want want want, silently begging him, Gods, you’d be the death of him.

“Aem—“ You whined like a spoiled little brat you are, oh he’d have so much fun taming the living soul out of you, later though, he thought, “You will get your taste later, little one—“

“But!” You and your stubbornness, he thought, oh but he’ll relinquish in the joy and thrill to break you fully— mould you just for him, “Ah ah no, behave, sweetling. Pouty mannered little girls will not get anything other than denied of their peaks, you do not wish for that, do you? hm?” Your spine shivered at the tone he used, so mocking, making you so small, especially with his fingers on your wrist and the other on your chin— scolding a child—yet the only sound that escaped your pouty lips are soft desperate mewl and whine.

You are so fucking sweet, he was ready to come then and there.

“N-no Aemond… I will be good for you.” You whispered, eyes glassy, lips trembling, he breathes heavily, “Oh sweet dove, shh you will get what you want.” He hummed, moving his fingers to gently run through your luscious silver hair, lips leaving an oh so sweet peck to the crown of your head.

When you nod to his words, he leaned in to kiss you ferociously, his palm move to your hips, bringing you to the edge of the desk as your tongue dances in a fiery battle— well less of a battle when you consider that he dominates you— “Uh!” You moaned as his thick shaft touches the soft pulsing wet folds of your cunt, you’re incredibly soaking the table beneath you by now.

Aemond groaned at the way your cunt is opening up to him, fluttering around the very top of his tip as if inviting— daring him to just slide in, though he restrains himself because this is your first time, he will go gentle, there’re plenty of times to break you later, he mused. “Syz, riñītsos.” Aemond purred deeply, “Ready?” He sweetly gaze down at you and your quivering form, pressing a gentle kiss on the tip of your nose. Good, little girl.

“Mhm.” You nodded, voice naught but a small whimper, one of Aemond’s palm reach down to grasp yours in his, intertwining your fingers to his— his other hand grip the base of his throbbing length—You let out a loud gasp as you feel him breaching your wet entrance with a swift motion, the tip is in and you cried.

“I-it hurts…” Tears dropped down from your eyes, “Shh, doing so well for me, sweetling.” Aemond cooed gently at you, holding him back from indulging in the feeling of your unimaginably tight tight tight warm wet flowery cunt grasping the tip of his cock— Gods has to reward him for his resilience for he can wait little longed than to come right then and there, you’re intoxicating, too sweet for him and way too fucking tight.

The Prince kissed your lips gently, lovingly as if to ground both you and him, the softness of his lips bringing you back to earth slightly— but mayhaps it was to distract you for what comes next, you wailed loudly as he pushed in more of his length, your cheeks now drenched with tears, chest heaving, and cunt clenching around him ever so torturously, both of your fluids mixing below you, feeling the wetness help him to push in yet more inches, filling you to the brim.

“Full Aem… so full, too big…” You truly ought to send him to an early grave, he thought, “You can take it, my sweet girl taking her brother’s cock like the perfect girl she is.” Aemond cooed against your ear, the praises consuming you whole, the pain from your core gradually subsides as you feel him waiting— you heart warmed at the gesture— he’s waiting for you to be comfortable.

“Please… please continue.” You whimpered, craning your head backwards as he pressed his thumb against your swollen pearl to relieve the pain, “I-ah! fuck me, Aemond.” Your comment might’ve been brazen but he doesn’t miss the way your body shivered at your eyes drooped, lips curled just as you did whenever you revert back to your girlish demure self. Oh his sweet little girl, being brave just for him, his little dragon.

He shushes you all at once, both palms on the either side of your hips as he slowly experimenting by moving his hips backward so that only half of his length is inside of your tight haven, before thrusting back in, deep deep deeply, you both moaned loudly at that, the feeling of his cock in and out, in and out, in and out of you is heightened— you can feel his veins against your walls, clenching tightly— holding him in a vice grip.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” Aemond grunted, his hips faltering a bit but keeping a nice steady pace as you mewl, cunt gushing his cock with the pain now dulled and replaced by pure white pleasure, you swear you can feel your ear rings, “Perfect little cunt for a perfect little girl.”

“For you! ah!” The plethora of moans and whiny gasps that left your lips has his head spinning, “Gods made you for me, to be mine.” He possessively growled, increasing the pace of his thrusts as he leaned down to capture the sensitive part of your skin just below your ear and leave a reddish purplish mark.

You can do naught but to take the way he thrusts thrusts thrusts in and out of you, his curved tip always hitting that spongy spot inside you, making you dizzy and drunk— cockdrunk and dumb on him, your lips agape as he continue to nibble marks on your skin, you could care less on how you will conceal that later, too wrapped up in bliss of his grunts and the feeling of his cock inside of you.

“One day you will bear me an—fuck! heir, you hear me little girl?” His thrusts are borderline mean now, hips rutting inside you as if you’re his drug and he cannot deprive himself from your sweet intoxicating cunt, “Yes! Gods yes! as many as you want.”

The sound of the skin slapping inside the room will for sure frighten anyone, especially guards outside the door, but you had hoped that mayhaps someone from the council might able to hear, so that they know Aemond is irrevocably yours— and so that they know you will bear his babes, heirs— none of that arranged marriages for political gains, just you and him, thrumming with the strong bond of Old Valyria, the dragon’s blood danced and merged.

Aemond pulled away from your neck as he looked at you with eye full of love love love, lust lust lust, and adoration, like he would worship the ground you walked upon, and even you knew he would if you asked. At one of your loud mewl, he bring his thumb to rub harsh circles on your pearl making you grip him as you soak him and your thighs even more.

“Mmh Aemond…”

“I know, close aren’t you, Princess?” He taunts you, all the while you do not have the strength anymore to care, for you are so so so close to reaching your peak, utterly desperate for it, “Uh huh, please please please.” Oh you sweet sweet dove, begging him like that, how can he ever refuse you? his beautiful little sister? he might be mean but not so mean to deny you of your peak.

“Shh, little one, I know what you need, you trust me don’t you?” His tone is sickly sweet, mocking and genuine at the same time— your mind having been too fuzzy to comprehend it only let out a muffled whimper, “Mmhm..” He laughed at that, finding you so unbearably cute, just his little dragon wanting to come so bad, it makes him wanna fuck his seed into you more.

“C’mon my sweet, i know you can do it.” He urged you, all of it— the hot breath against your skin, the nibbling, the way he circled your pearl so sinfully, the way his cock impaled you open— all of it is just too much, addictive. “Peak for me like the good little whore you are, hm?” His voice is rough, hips faltering in his pace— obviously holding himself back from releasing into your womb.

“Nnmh, not a- not a whore.” You hiccuped in a high pitch, oh his sweet little girl, he chuckled at you— looking at your pathetic teary eye, cheeks drained— as drained as your cunt is soaking his length, “My little princess, the purest of maidens, the finest of whores, mine, nobody else’s.”

“I- ah ah ah! Aemond!” You clenched your cunt so tight around him as something snap inside of you, the dam broke and once more you can feel yourself hitting that plethora of pleasures— brain fuzzy, only Aemond, only him him him. You peaked— body trashing, and flushed all over for you are unable to control the movement of your limbs and muscles anymore— too drunk on his cock.

“Good girl, shit, my good fucking girl.” Aemond cooed but the harshness of his voice indicates that he, too, is close, “Gonna come too now hm? want that little one? my seed inside you?”

“Yes yes yes, uh huh, give it to me please.” You begged him so sweetly, how can he refuse? after all you’re his little sister, his Princess, he never gave you less than what you deserve, even that one time when you asked to take the remaining berry tart that he wanted so bad yet he let you have it, or that one time you begged him to show you the tunnels inside the paintings, the one that holds Balerion’s skull knowing he’d have to evade Ser Cole, or that last time you asked him to kiss you before he went to Storms-end, anything for you. Everything for his Queen.

“Fuck! Gods you’re perfect, going to make you my fucking wife, I swear it.” He possessively muttered, or more like babbling now— too obsessed with the way you hug him so tight like he’d disappear, or the way your cunt clutch him in a come come come motion. “Give it t’me.” You pleaded, voice so soft it makes his head heady— He simply can’t resist you, “Seven fucking hells.”

Aemond shuddered as he released his spend inside of you, the tip of his cock right against the opening of your cervix, enough to make itself known but not enough to hurt you, never to hurt you, not when it does not bring you pleasure. “Thank you thank you thank you…” Your voice is barely a whimper now, your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth parted with your lips lolling out. Sight to behold indeed.

“Shh good girl, my good little girl.” He hummed against you, looking at you with adoration as he slides out slowly— you whined at the loss, already accustomed to being stretched by him, he shushes you one more time as he hold you— seems like you’re a bit gone inside your fuzzy little head.

“My little dragon, so good for me, hm?” He cooed at you, one hand holding you close to him, as his other palm cups your cheek, rocking you slightly, “Come back to me, little one, c’mon, I’m right here.” He whispered, grounding you back down as you hiccuped slowly.

“Aem…” Your voice is barely there but its there, it’s you, and Aemond smiled knowing you are alright, “Here, Princess, did so good f’r me.” He kisses all over your face, making soft pecking noises that has you giggling softly and make an attempt on nudging him away, “Stop.” You whined adorably like a little cat, which he laughed at, “There’s my girl.”

By the way you smiled and blinked at him, he just know that he would give you all 7 realms if you asked, make you his Queen, and demolish all your enemies, so that you shall rule with him— as it always meant to be. The dragons that lived through the dance.

[targaryen-dynasty]

SERENITY.

Part 2

Dad!Aemond Targaryen x wife!niece!Reader

With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a little bit longer.

WARNINGS: Canon typical incest/Targcest, fluff, female Reader (no mentions of appearance besides color of her eyes), mentions of difficult pregnancy and birth, soft dad!Aemond

WORDS: 1.1 K

“Hae mērot gierūli. Se hāros bartossi.” As one we gather. And with three heads.

The voice was a distant rumble. It held a familiar edge to it, yet your tiredness made it difficult to make out where it came from. The calmness of it made you want to sink further into the silk sheets, the soft sigh leaving your lips indicating that you were close to falling asleep again – until it settled that you heard voices in your chambers. In the midst of the night.

Reaching to your side to check for the man you had married three summers ago, you couldn't feel his body right where he was supposed to sleep, the vacant spot already cold, which suggested he had been gone for quite some time by now.  

And if you had to guess, you’d say it was late into the Hour of the Owl already.

“Prūmȳsa sōvīli. Gevī dāerī.” We shall fly as we were destined. Beautifully, freely.

When your lilac eyes eventually opened, your marital chambers were only dimly illuminated, forcing them to adjust to the dark. Most candles had gone out, and not more than an ember glowed in the fireplace. The light of the moon, however, shone through the drapes hanging in front of the windows, highlighting their subtle movements in the gentle breeze, and the tall frame of your husband standing behind them. 

A deep sigh escaped your throat, one that gathered the attention of your occupied husband. You hadn’t even been aware that you had held your breath, and quickly placed a hand on your chest to stop yourself from making any more sounds, not wanting to wake your babe.

“Ēdrugon, ābrazȳrys,” he hummed, though his voice was slightly muffled. Sleep, wife. 

Leaning over the edge of the cot standing on your side of the bed, there were no distinct snoring sounds coming from the boy it belonged to, his little blanket missing as well. It merely was the reddish dragon egg sitting neatly in the corner, having yet to hatch. Your boy was nine moons old by now, and it became less and less likely it was going to hatch at all. 

You rose from the bed, quietly, and pulled a thin robe over your shoulders, tying a knot in the front. Sidling toward Aemond, you soon spotted the small head of your son resting on his shoulder with your husband’s lips pressed gently against the side of the boy’s face. A warmth spread through your body at the sight, your heart fluttering. 

“Emā naejot ēdrugon hae sȳrī,” you purred, cautious to not wake the sleeping babe in his arms. You have to sleep as well.

As you came up to him, you brushed your hand over Aemond’s back, resting at his waist, and craned your neck to meet his eye. His sapphire eye was gleaming in the soft light the moon casted upon you three, making him look as if he had been forged and created by the Seven. 

Your lips pressed to his shoulder, and only then did you notice that he was bare-chested, prompting you to raise your eyebrows. Aemond slightly turned and reciprocated the gesture, oblivious to your surprise, though his lips pressed to your temple with him taking a deep breath of your scent. 

He carefully shifted the hold on your son, supporting him with his right arm as he slid his other around your waist to pull you against him and meet your lips for a kiss that robbed you of your ability to breathe. 

“He was not able to find rest,” Aemond rasped, words fanning over your lips. “He sleeps most peacefully in our arms than in the cot, you know.”

You nodded, and allowed your fingers to ghost along the crown of his head, caressing the tuft of silver hair your son possessed. Your eyes crinkled at the corners, your heart swelling at the realization that you two had created the very being Aemond just cradled in his arms.

Turning your head toward the window overlooking King’s Landing, you were in awe that the rawness and vulnerability of the moment even made the filthiest of cities seem peaceful and quiet, yet the true sight to behold was and always would be the prince standing right next to you.

Despite the rift parting your House into two, Aemond had always been a dutiful husband, taking care of you and protecting you just like he had vowed to do on the day you wed in the traditions of the Faith. Duty. It had never been more than that to him. But with your pregnancy taking a woeful turn, and the much more miserable birth following, something in him had changed. 

His training with the sword could wait more often than not, if it meant for him to get the chance to bond with you, and, after the birth, your son. And knowing all too well that he prioritized full nights of sleep, moments like these made you even more aware of how much he had grown into his newfound responsibilities. 

For all that the people of court found the prince to be cold or even cruel at times, he was nothing if not incredibly gentle with you and your son. 

When you looked back at Aemond, you already found him staring at you with the striking lilac eye of his, an expression of deep affection written all over his features. The warm look in his eye made you feel weak in the knees, just like it always did. 

With a soft smile on his lips, his hand trailed from your waist to your stomach, gently rubbing over the small bump that slowly started to blossom. His touch was tender, loving even. 

“You deserve your rest more than ever with the child growing within you,” he noted, “return to bed and get some sleep, my love. I shall watch over him.”

You nodded as you watched Aemond’s head tilt forwards to look at the sleeping boy that was cradled in the crook of his arm. You were exhausted, but at the same time, a part of you wished to spend every moment you could with your little family.  

A cheeky smile grazed your lips. “But what if I want to stay?”

His brows raised slightly as he regarded you, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “I believe that we,” he nodded towards your son, “would not mind your company, provided you are not too tired.”

“Perhaps just for a few moments longer,” you replied softly to which he nodded in return.

With Aemond’s arm around you, and his lips pressing against your temple, the fatigue you were feeling could wait for a little while, if it meant you got to indulge in those rare moments of serenity for just a bit longer. 

[witchthewriter]

𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐏𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐬:

Btw this is the best High Valyrian translator I've found.

a/n: some swears lol. If you really want to learn the language, then Duolingo is great!

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐀𝐫𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐋𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬?

After the "Doom of Valyria", High Valyrian transformed dailly language of an empire into more of a scholarly language kept alive by the elite nobles, poets, and scholars across Essos and Westeros.

𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐎𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐰 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧

Each of the Nine Free Cities developed their own distinct Low Valyrian tongue like the Braavosi, Lorathi, Lysene, Myrish, Norvoshi, Pentoshi, Qohorik, Tyroshi, and Volantene.

So while High Valyrian remained the sacred, elite lore language, these Low Valyrian offshoots became the common tongue.

It's probably why it's so difficult to get the exact wording right when there's so many different versions of one language.

𝑨𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒂𝒚, 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆'𝒔 𝒂 𝒇𝒆𝒘 𝒑𝒉𝒓𝒂𝒔𝒆𝒔!

Blood of the Dragon = Zaldrīzo ānogar

Game of Thrones = Tymptir Dēmalȳti

Freedom = Dāerves

Ñuhor līr gūrēnna = I will take what is mine.

Ao ynoma dīnilūks? = Will you marry me?

Valyrio muño ēngos ñuhys issa = Valyrian is my mother tongue.

My name is (name). = Ñuha brozi (name) issa

Seven Hells! = Sīkudi nopāzmi

I love you. = Avy jorrāela

Mother of Dragons = Muña Zaldrizoti

Prince = Darilaros

Twin = Idaña

Older Sister = Mandia

Younger Sister = Hāedar

Older Brother =Lēkia

Younger Brother = Valonqar

Wolves = Zoklī

Cats = Kēla

Small = Byka

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 🔥

Dragon = Zaldrīzes

Dracarys = Dragon-Fire

Dohaeras = Serve

Lykirī= Be Calm

Naejot = Forward

Umbās = Wait

Ynot! = Come! (to me)

Daor! = No!

Vēzot! = Up!

Rȳbās! = Listen! Obey!

Ninkiot! / Parmot! / Tegot! = Land!

Gevī! / Hegnīr! = Good!

[pinkykats-place]

Aemond Targaryen x Reader Insert Fics

Tumblr HotD Recommendations

Disclaimers!

The stories linked are NOT mine.

Some contain mature content.

Mostly female readers.

Note: if you read and enjoy any of these stories - please like, leave a comment and/or reblog original post!

*************************************

Series: When Pride Married Prejudice

Aemond Taargaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

summary: she is the (only) trueborn daughter of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen and Lord Laenor Velaryon. after her younger brother, Lucerys, slices out the eye of their uncle, Aemond Targaryen, her hand is offered as payment to keep the peace. though unexpected, she finds herself in a loving marriage, until devastating news forces her to make an impossible choice.

To Have and to Hold

Aemond Targaryen x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Summary: Reader goes to Storm's End with her younger brother and instead of asking for Lucerys' eye, Aemond claims her as his wife.

Blessed Curse

Aemond x F!Velaryon (Strong)!Reader

Synopsis: When a marriage between you and Aemond was arranged and forced by your grandsire, conflicting emotions arise, but which one will loom greater? Loathing or Love?

Loathe to Love

Aemond Targaryen x Strong Reader

Synopsis: Seeking forgiveness is not a thing Aemond bothers himself with, but that quickly changes when he deeply offended you.

𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐮𝐧 (part 1)

Aemond targaryen x Reader velaryon(rhaena Daughter)

He Can't Have You

Aemond Targaryen x Velayron Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Hearing the news that his neice will marry Aegon. Aemond devises a plan to secure a marriage between himself and Y/n. As an added bonus, he loves the idea of claiming Y/n as his own.

Haven’t I Been Good to You? (18+)

Aemond x Velaryon!niece!Reader

Synopsis: Reader is pregnant and Rhaenyra’s heir/eldest daughter. An argument takes place after the dinner scene.

Mother Knows No Bounds

Aemond x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

prompt: you are Rhaenyra's daughter, married to Prince Aemond, and the subject of Alicent's hatred. one day, she takes it too far.

Blood Lust 

Aemond x Niece!Reader

Summary: With his ego inflated after Rook’s Rest, Aemond makes another move against the blacks — taking you.

Aemond x reader

Request: Sending Aemond dirty letters by raven while you are away at Dragonstone. She is betrothed to another Lord’s son, but they see each other whenever she visits. He fucks her hard as punishment for sending the letters + Imagine Aemond being completely enthralled by reader soft skin and perfumed hair. You can make it a smut if you want to.

Part 2

You were my man and I your girl

Aemond x Rhaenyra’s daughter!Reader

Summary: Facing the news of her impending betrothal, she makes a final, desperate act of rebellion. Though when she discovers she is to marry her dear uncle, the man she has longed for since childhood, she realizes she may have ruined their marriage before it even began.

Here & Now

Aemond targaryen x Targaryen!niece!Reader [Rhaenyra & Daemon's daughter]

summary: on the morning you were set to return to Dragonstone to reunite with your family, the Greens make their move to take the throne, and Aemond comes to you.

A Kitten Among Dragons

Aemond x younger sister! Reader

Summary: In an attempt to close their growing distance, Aemond visits his sweet sister to find her accompanied by a furry friend.

Secret Visits

aemond x sister!targaryen!reader

Summary: you are aemond's little sister and he visits you in your room after dinner (smut)

Sacrifices

Aemond x little-sister!Targaryen!Reader

description: Finally, after months of waiting, his beloved, younger sister becomes his wife. The task that awaits him as an older brother is not to cause her pain during the beautiful act in which they will finally become one.

GEVĪ [BEAUTIFUL] 

Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary: Two dragons, hatched from the same womb, nurtured by the same hands, yet bestowed with different fates— how do you, rekindle your love for Aemond after he has left you to pursue your mother and brother’s wishes? well he will show you how.  

“Made for me.”

Aemond x younger sister!Reader

Summary: As far as Aemond can remember, he had liked you, not in a way a brother loves his sister, no, in a way a man loves a woman, finding out that you were soon to be betrothed to a Tully for alliance, he feels devastated, until he decides he can prevent it, by ruining you.

Thorough 

aemond x preg!sister!wife!reader 

Summary: Aemond is overprotective while you’re pregnant but never ceases to make sure you have everything you need and are well satisfied.

headcanon to aemond obsessed with his half sister (daughter of Aemma and Viserys)

As You Wish Sister

Aemond x older!half-sister!Reader

His Most Diligent Student

aemond x twin sister!reader

Summary: Aemond helps his twin practice High Valyrian with the most peculiar of methods.

You are everything to me.

Aemond x Targaryen!Reader

Summary: Aemond Targaryen's twin sister is the only person who could consolidate him from the growing remorse that haunts him. He pays her a midnight visit in her chambers, seeking her for solace and comfort. As Aemond's sister provides him the needed comfort, they soon enough finds themselves carried away in the intensity of their closeness.

Tenebris

Aemond x older sister!reader

Summary: Aemond comes back from Storm's End, rattled and flayed open, only to find comfort in his older sister's arms.

Deliverance

Aemond x older-sister!Reader

Summary: Following your nephew's death, you find aemond in need of comfort. As his older sister, who are you to deny him?

Rōva Mandia

aemond targaryen x sister!reader

Summary: no one has ever loved aemond as fiercely as his beloved older sister. in return, aemond honors the vow he made to you in his youth.

The Throne Was Meant For Us, My Dear

Aemond x Helaena’s Twin!Reader

Silver Sobs

Aemond Targaryen X Sister!reader

SYNOPSIS: After the terrifying battle which took place at Rook’s Rest, Aemond’s lust for power had still not subsided despite burning his own brother, the king of Westeros. He arrives at King’s Landing with one thing in mind; to claim everything that belongs to his brother which included — you, his sweet dear sister. The Queen.

Series: Paramour

Aemond x fem!Targaryen!cousin!Reader

Summary: When the succession of the Driftmark throne is put into question, Rhaenyra returns to the RedKeep along with her children, her husband Daemon and his daughter by the late lady Rhea, Y/N Targaryen, who is once again reunited with her childhood friend Aemond who she had grown distant with over the years.

Just A Touch

Aemond x fem!Targaryen!Cousin!Reader

Summary: During a ball made to celebrate the name day of King Viserys, Aemond falls in love with Daemon's first daughter, and he is eager to dance with her.

Ties That Bind

Aemond Targaryen X cousin!Reader

SUMMARY: After spending most of your childhood in the Red Keep, it’s hard to let go of the bonds you’ve formed even with war on the horizon.

Labyrinth

Aemond x targaryen!cousin!Reader

Summary: falling in love is easy for most people, but not for Aemond Targaryen. How can a broken cold-hearted man be able to love the most gentle human Westeros has ever seen?

Muña Series Masterlist

Pairings: Daemon Targaryen x Reader, Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Series summary: In which you find yourself caught in a deadly game of tug of war between two dragons. Daemon, your husband, and Aemond, the man who promises to make you a widow.

a little death.

Aemond Targaryen x afab!Reader

Summary: Aemond was always sure he'd die in battle, surrounded by lesser men but here, balls deep in your pussy. Aemond understands there's nothing more fatal than the sight before him.

BORN TO DIE

Aemond x Targaryen Bastard!Reader

Summary: In a tense political setting, a Targaryen bastard working as a prostitute is summoned by Prince Aemond to the Red Keep. Aemond wants her to approach his dragon, Vhagar, as a test of her worth. Although he plans for her to claim another dragon in the future, her immediate challenge is to survive Prince Aemond demands while trying to stay alive.

Gold Rush

Aemond x Lannister!Reader

Synopsis: Everybody wants you, and I don’t like a gold rush.

I was all over her.

Aemond Targaryen x female!Tyrell!Reader

Summary: When the world turned their back on him, she didn’t.

Your beauty never scared me

Aemond x Tyrell!Reader

Unexpected Affections

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell Reader

Synopsis: With just a smile, you had managed to bewitch and enthrall the stoic and cold prince.

Silent Passions

Aemond x Tyrell!Fem!Reader

Synopsis: You and Aemond had been promised to one another before you were even born. And when the time came for you to meet, all were curious to see what was to come when soon to be spouses only shared one thing in common: your want of silence.

I'm A Fire And I'll Keep Your Brittle Heart Warm

Aemond Targaryen x Tyrell!Reader

SUMMARY: Flowers come to Aemond in multiple shapes and forms throughout his marriage.

Little Dragon

Aemond x wife!Tully!Reader

synopsis ; he was your fire, and you were his sea, willing to push and pull the tides at his behest

His Wife

Aemond х Tully!Wife!Reader

warnings: 18+ smut, p in v, lactation kink, cream pie

Series: The Dragon and The Wolf

Aemond x fem!Stark!Reader

Summary: As the eldest daughter of the Lord of Winterfell you knew your duty would arrive soon. When your father informs you of who you will wed you are most surprised and nervous.

Series: My Dornish Love

Aemond Targaryen x Martell!reader

Warnings- arranged marriages, some sexual content

Touch Starved Aemond

Aemond x betrothed!fem!Reader

Summary: touch starved aemond aka aemond slowly falling in love with his betrothed by her gentle touches he was deprived of all his life

The Woes of Betrothals

Aemond x betrothed!fem!Reader

Synopsis: Recently betrothed, Prince Aemond is unsure on the virtues befitting that of a good husband. Ser Criston offers some surprisingly useful insight. 

Look after you

Aemond x betrothed!fem!Reader

Summary: You were betrothed to Aemond Targaryen, and while the two of you got along well enough, you hardly behaved as man and wife. After you suffer a great loss, Aemond decides to change that. (Hurt/Comfort)

mad blood stirring

Aemond x betrothed!f!Reader

(inspired by the scene in s1e5 where harwin rescues rhaenyra during the wedding feast)

Aemond is seeing Reader for the first time and can't help what he is feeling...lust.

The King’s Retribution

Aemond x Aegon’s Wife!Reader

Summary: when he walks back to the Keep, Aemond finds his brother’s wife in distress while her youngest child keeps her awake. Maybe it’s time to show the King that no one can humiliate the one-eyed prince.

Play Your Hand

aemond x noblewoman!reader

summary | When Aemond the Kinslayer descends upon Harrenhal, a dazzling prize awaited him— the widow of Harwin Strong.

Series: The moon and his sun

Aemond x noble lady!Reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

The Art of Persuasion

Aemond x noble-lady!Reader

Summary - A determined woman uses her strategic charm to win the favour of the powerful Prince Regent. She navigates a delicate dance of influence and intimacy, aiming to transform their fraught relationship into a potent alliance while exploring the limits of their mutual desire.

Series: Little Lamb 

Aemond x high-born!Reader

Summary: As a maiden of a noble house, it is your duty to wed well. But how will you manage to, with a curious and possessive Prince in the picture?

Can't help falling in love

Aemond x noble lady! Reader

Summary: 5 times Aemond was in love with you + 1 time he finally confessed his feelings

Imagine: Aemond finds himself in a competition for his crush’s attention when his cousin from Essos arrives at Kingslanding

Aemond Targaryen x chubby!noble!Reader

Not a child anymore

Aemond x older!fem!Reader

SUMMARY — You are Queen Alicent’s favourite young lady in waiting and Prince Aemond’s childhood friend. However, he is sick and tired of you viewing him as nothing but a child when he is a man now and he will not let anyone else have you.

Good as Gold

aemond x lady-in-waiting!reader

summary: You found yourself the object of the Prince Aemond's stares, the reason why, you knew not.

Servant

Aemond x fem!maid!Reader

“I want you to watch me”

Chamber Maid

Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Take Me Down To The River, And Bathe Me Clean

Aemond x maid!Reader

SUMMARY: The Gods have sent her for him, and he'll have her if it's the last thing he does.

Devil's Snare

Aemond x maid!Reader

Summary: Y/N is apprehensive when she is assigned the post of Aemond Targaryen's handmaiden. She expects him to be cold and cruel, and is surprised when he is actually kindle and gentle to her. All the while Aemond finds himself falling for his shy and skittish handmaiden.

An Act of Service

Aemond Targaryen x servant!reader 

Summary: Your father has loyally served the Iron Throne and royal family for many years. No one would ever assume the Grand Maester wanted more for his family's name until he has the opportunity to send his daughter to help treat the pain that's plagued Prince Aemond since the childhood injury that cost him his eye.

Humble Servant 

king!aemond x servant!reader

Summary: Working under the service of king Aemond Targaryen, you were eager to attend to his every need.

Mother’s madness

Aemond x f!lowborn!reader

Summary: Aemond, troubled by his unfruitful marriage and the stress of the war, takes himself a bedslave when he seizes Harrenhal and gets more attached to her than he ever thought possible. Bringing her to the Red Keep after he needs to leave Harrenhal would not go as he hoped it would, especially after the birth of the babes he sired onto her.

HC: Touchy reader

His Darkest Secret

Aemond x brothel worker!reader

Summary: In Madam Sylvi’s absence, the care of the Targaryen prince that frequents your brothel is left in your good hands. His needs, you find, are unlike anything you’d ever encountered….

holy/unholy

Summary: Aemond has become enamoured by a whore of the Street of Silk.

Sweet caresses

Aemond x gn!Prostitute!Reader

Warnings: fluff, mommy issues ( i mean come on), talk of death, no use of y/n, gn reader, prostitution

Valyrian Blood: Of Old Valyria

Aemond x prostitute!Reader

Summary: Aemond's affection lies with you ever since he saw you in the Street of Silk. Even though you are a prostitute and do not think things can change for you, Aemond will do anything to make you his and get you out of the whore house. After all, you both do share the Blood of Old Valyria.

In the Eye of the Beholder

Summary: Compared to his elder brother, who abused the offerings on the Street of Silk, Aemond’s tastes have always been…tame. 

Aemond x brothel worker reader

Aemond Targaryen x Brothel! Reader

Synopsis: Prince Aemond Targaryen seeks solace at the House of Kisses and encounters you, a captivating courtesan. A night of intense passion reveals his hidden vulnerabilities, leaving both of you grappling with unspoken desires and the lasting impact of your brief, powerful connection.

Beneath a Dragon's Gaze

Aemond x sex worker!Reader

Summary: With Madame Sylvi indisposed on the evening Prince Aemond comes to visit, he requests someone different

The needs of a prince are the work of a whore.

Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Reader

summary: after aegon's mockery at the brothel, he pushes Aemond into having another whore. Anything royalty asks for, it is the brothel's duty to provide.

hold me, heal me

aemond targaryen x older!f!reader

summary: he comes to you in the dark of night, seeking solace, when mistakes are made and lives are lost.

ilībio

Aemond x female!whore!reader

Summary: Aemond finds comfort in your cunt

DRAGON COINS

Aemond x Targaryen Bastard!Fem!Reader

Summary: Prince Aemond finds his way to the Street of Silk once again, and he finds certain... familiarity with one of the whores. Yet, that doesn't stop neither of you to let your desires take over.

Nightblooms

Aemond x fem

Summary: It was a single night, such a trivial moment, two children sharing lemon cakes in a brothel, but she has not forgotten it. He will not recognise her, surely?

𝐎𝐟 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐬

Aemond x fem!Reader

Summary: after facing embarrassment from Aegon’s intrusive visit, Sylvi helps Aemond find attraction with someone closer to his own age.

Sub!Aemond x Dom!Reader

Synopsis: Prince Regent Aemond Targaryen's tantrums have pushed the courtiers to their limit. Only y/n can handle his defiance, using firm discipline and control to tame him. Through a night of punishment and domination, y/n pushes Aemond to the brink, teaching him to submit and find solace in her authority.

Devout Worshiper

Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader

Synopsis: The Prince Regent expresses his carnal desire and devotion to you atop the Iron Throne.

Series: Call It Dreaming

Aemond x modern!female!Reader

Summary: You have a delightful sex dream.

𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞

Alys Rivers x wife!Reader x Aemond

[deadpool15]

Let me

Beautiful. The only word fit to describe the Targaryen’s as a whole. They are viewed if nothing above society. Closer to the gods than men, as many would like to say. Though there is something quite different when it comes to Aemond Targaryen. The man is gorgeous, the most beautiful specimen you’ll ever encounter. There are times where I realize I don’t compare to such beauty or the royal life in general. You see, I have indeed grown from the silence and embarrassment I faced upon arrival. “You are to be wedded, a fine gentleman if I do say so myself. A match meant to bring forth unity for both houses. Securing us many things across Westeros.”

The words that had changed my life, in which I didn’t know at the time would mean for the better or worse. The life of status is quite new to me, from a certain age the idea of being a proper lady had been instilled in my brain. Then, a match as my grandfather believed the gods before us made themselves came along, the prince of House Targaryen wanted a wife. Aemond was the silent type, one couldn’t exactly understand what was going on with him. He was a tough one to figure out, and I was anything but patient except when it came to him. My dragon.

Watching as Aemond stepped into our chambers putting down his sword. He spent majority of his time training, I never blamed him for it, especially since he has started training me secretly. It took a while before I fully convinced him into the idea but with a few tricks up my sleeve if you know what I mean, he was on board. He starts to remove his tunic, leaving him in nothing but a pair of trousers. “It almost feels as if I’ve been waiting for hours, maybe centuries, dear husband.” He looks up so exhausted, it seems his usual high perception was gone. Not taking notice of me sitting up in our bed. He breaks out into a small smile.

That smile, it gives me peace. Anxiety and pain are forgotten, replaced with nothing but thoughts of Aemond. “It seems, you’ve decided to retire quite early to the bed chamber, haven’t you, gevī?” He moves toward the bed, caging me beneath his arms. “Yes, it seems that way. Yet, once I got here there was an absence of one’s presence. A person meant to ensure safety and warmth, but they aren’t in this very bed with me right now. If you would like a little help husband, there is currently no one blonde laying in this bed with me for our usual activities. Know any blondes?” Looking at him with a coy smirk he laughs at my statement.

A laugh only I can pull from him. Gives me a sense of grace, that only I have that power over him. “I would hope the only blonde you need is currently in the room with you. He says grabbing my chin firmly. Pushing him on the bed to sit beside me and whisper, “I would think we have the same person in mind, my dragon”. I grab a hold of his face, “in order to make this easier I would enjoy if you are the most comfortable, so let’s just remove this.” As I reach for his eyepatch, he takes a hold of my hand firmly. The other gripping my waist. “It’s just me husband, no one is here to judge or ridicule you. Even if they were they would have to go through me if they wished to talk about such lies.” I tell him while looking directly at his eyes. “They wouldn’t be lies.” He said quickly.

Grabbing both his hands firmly I place kisses on the inside of each palm. I wish for nothing but him to be his true self with me. To know I love him deeply. “You are the most beautiful man I’ve ever witnessed. Any woman should be lucky I even allow them to glance in your direction.” He laughs again, though this time it’s a full belly laugh. Coming straight from the depths of his throat. “You allow them, is that it little wife.” I start to place kisses all over his eye and then I remove the patch, this time he doesn’t stop me. Simply sits there basking in the glory. I grab my special tools. Whisking a brush hidden behind my back, slowly but surely start to smooth out the tangles and knots in his hair.

He finally takes notice of my appearance, a think silk nightgown. Leaving almost nothing to the imagination. For the right person, of course. He smiled holding me closely and placed a kiss on my shoulder blade. “I love you both.” I stop moving the brush, running my hands through his hair. Feels of silk. Glancing down to look at my growing belly and then back at him. Realizing this is paradise. Pulling him even closer, “I love you both as well, my love.”

[kckt88]

Arrival(s)

Summary:

Aemond is delighted when Vaera announces that she's with child.

Warning(s): Worry, Swearing, Threats of Violence, Pain, Child Birth.

Word Count: 1600.

Author Note: A companion piece to A Time for Grief/The Gullet & Harrenhal and the Rivers, but can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Again” shouted Aemond as he lunged forward.

“I think that’s enough for today my Prince” replied Criston as he blocked Aemond’s attack.

“No, I want to keep going” said Aemond sternly.

“You are distracted. Your mind is not focused on your training”.

“Apologise Ser Criston” muttered Aemond his shoulders slumping.

“What troubles you, my Prince?” asked Criston.

“I asked that Vaera visit the maester today. She’s not well”

“Ahh, I’m sure she’ll be fine” replied Criston.

“I hope so. I just can’t bear the thought of anything happening to her. I never thought that I would come to love her as much as I do”

“Despite whom her mother is. Vaera seems to be a good wife. It pleases me greatly my Prince to see you so happy” replied Criston.

Aemond smiled and nodded but his attention was caught by Vaera entering the training yard.

“I-Is everything ok? What did the maester say? asked Aemond nervously.

“Well-“ said Vaera as she took Aemond’s hand and placed it on her stomach.

“-What?” exclaimed Aemond his singular eye wide in surprise, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I’m with child” replied Vaera smiling widely.

“T-Truly?” gasped Aemond elated.

“I carry your child inside of me. A piece of you and me together” said Vaera giggling as Aemond quickly dropped to one knee and placed his head on her stomach.

“Issa byka zaldrīzes. Nyke aōha kepa” whispered Aemond (My little dragon, I’m your father).

“Drakari pykiros, Tīkummo jemiros, Yn lantyz bartossa, Saelot vāedis” (Fire breather, winged leader, but two heads, to a third sing).

Vaera closed her eyes at the sound of Aemond’s voice.

“Perzyro udrȳssi, Ezīmptos laehossi, Hārossa letagon, Aōt vāedan” (With words of flame, with clear eyes, to bind the three, to you I sing).

Vaera smiled as she felt Aemond rest his head on the round swell of her stomach.

“Hae mērot gierūli:, Se hāros bartossi, Prūmȳsa sōvīli, Gevī dāerī” (As one we gather, and with three heads, we shall fly as we were destined, beautifully, freely).

Ever since Vaera had revealed that she was carrying his child, Aemond had devoted himself to pouring over countless books in the library to gain as much information as he possibly could about pregnancy and how to raise a child. Apparently, he also found a book that said babes can hear sounds from the womb after the sixth moon of pregnancy. So, Aemond never missed a chance to spend time talking or singing to his wife’s stomach.

Vaera of course didn’t think too much of the advice in those ‘books’ at first, but as her stomach began to swell, and the babe began to kick, she noticed that he or she would always move around more whenever Aemond spoke.

Aemond of course was delighted when Vaera told him. She knew her husband was worried about becoming a father, given the fact his own wasn’t a very good one and it terrified Aemond most days, that he would turn out like Viserys. But Vaera knew that Aemond would be a fantastic father, he was utterly devoted to their unborn child.

Seeing his wife grow round with their child made Aemond immeasurably happy. He marvelled how her body changed and the feeling of their babe moving was something he would never forget.

The mood swings however were something else entirely.

Sometimes Vaera would scream and cry at him whenever she felt uncomfortable, she would rage and order him to stay away from her, only for her to come to him in floods of tears and drag him back to their chambers and beg him to fuck her.

Often there were times where she would sink to her knees and tear open his breeches, only for her to stuff his cock down her throat and torture him as she sucked and licked his hard cock until she’d milked every last drop of seed from him.

Quite the predicament, that of course his brother Aegon found extremely amusing.

“You do realise that she’s already with child. You don’t need to keep sticking it in her all the time” said Aegon smirking.

“I can’t help myself. Seeing her belly round with my child, knowing that it’s my seed that’s taken root. Drives me mad with desire” replied Aemond honestly.

“Drives your wife mad with desire too from what I’ve heard” said Aegon.

“Hm” muttered Aemond.

“Heard she was ordering you not to touch her anymore only for her to find you training with Ser Criston and without skipping a beat she dragged you back to your chambers and neither of you were seen for the rest of the day” laughed Aegon.

“I had my husbandly duties to perform” retorted Aemond.

“We all know how seriously you take duty little brother” exclaimed Aegon.

“A shame your wife cannot say the same” snarked Aemond.

“Easy there brother. If I wanted a lecture on decency I would have stayed with mother and grandsire” muttered Aegon.

“Hm”

Suddenly a knock at the door interrupted both Princes.

“Come in” said Aegon loudly.

“Apologise for the interruption Prince Aemond, but it’s your wife, she has begun her labours”.

Aemond didn’t know how much longer he could stand listening to Vaera’s pained wails, as he paced back and forth outside their closed chamber door.

Vaera’s labours had begun just after midday and Aemond was soon ushered out of their chambers, as a flurry of maesters and midwives surrounded his wife.

“A-Aemond,” cried Vaera.

Aemond had been ordered to remain outside as the midwives claimed the birthing room was no place for a man, let alone a Prince of the realm.

“Aemond” begged Vaera.

Aemond screwed his eye shut and clenched his fists.

“I want AEMOND” screamed Vaera.

Aemond couldn’t stand it anymore, so he took a deep breath and barged into his chambers.

“My prince. You should not be here. It is not proper” urged Maester Orwyle.

“I don’t give a shit what’s proper. My wife needs me. I’m staying” snapped Aemond gazing at Vaera who was laid on their bed as naked as her name day.

“B-But my Prince-”

“Do not attempt to remove me again maester, or I swear to the seven I will throw you out of that fucking window” shouted Aemond.

“P-Please. Aemond. I need you” sobbed Vaera.

“I’m here ābrazȳrys” (Wife) exclaimed Aemond as he knelt down beside the bed and took Vaera’s hand.

“It hurts so much Valzȳrys” (Husband).

“I know. But you can do this. I know you can” said Aemond, doing his best to reassure his wife.

“No, I can’t” wailed Vaera, grimacing in pain as a contraction ripped across her stomach.

“Yes, you can Issa prūmia. Squeeze my hand as much as you want” urged Aemond (My heart).

Maester Orwyle instructed Vaera to take a deep breath and push.

“That’s it. Issa dōna, keep going” (My sweet) encouraged Aemond.

Aemond had no idea how much time had passed since Vaera was instructed to push, even as the labour tired her, she kept going. Her red face covered in sweat and tears.

Her nails dug into his skin as she pushed with all her might.

“That’s it Princess. I can see the babes head”.

“You can do it my love. That’s it. Keep pushing” urged Aemond, grimacing slightly as Vaera squeezed his hand even tighter.

“Keep going Princess. Your doing so well-“

"Your doing it my love" exclaimed Aemond.

“The head’s out. Now just wait until the next contraction and push”

Even though she was exhausted, Vaera took a deep breath and gave one last push.

Then an ear-piercing cry shattered the silence of the room. 

Aemond’s heart swooped at the sound, his lips parting in amazement as he watched Maester Orwyle, cut the umbilical cord and quickly wrapped the babe in clean cloth.

Vaera whimpered next to him, her eyes shining with relieved tears. 

The babe was a boy.

Their son was passed to Vaera who held the tiny babe against her bare chest.

“Aemond. Look, our son” gasped Vaera.

“He’s perfect” whispered Aemond in awe.

His heart bursting with love at the sight of his newly born son in the arms of his wife.

“He looks like you” said Vaera happily.

The babe had a full head of silver hair, never in his life had Aemond ever seen so much hair on a babe.

However, Vaera starting whimpering in pain again.

“W-What’s happening?” asked Aemond in alarm as his son was quickly pressed into his arms.

“It-it seems as though there’s another babe my Prince” replied Maester Orwyle.

“Idañnykeā zaldrīzoti” gasped Aemond (Twin Dragons).

Aemond couldn’t believe it. His sweet wife had delivered twin babes.

“Another son” declared Vaera proudly as she gently rocked their son in her arms.

“I’m so proud of you” replied Aemond as he sat on the bed next to Vaera.

Aemond couldn’t believe it he was a father. He had two children. They were perfect. His sons. His boys.

“Congratulations to the both of you. What are their names?” asked Maester Orwyle.

“Aemon-“ whispered Vaera.

“-Yes?” asked Aemond.

“No, you daft idiot. I want to call our first son Aemon. In honour of his father” said Vaera as she gently rocked the sleeping babe.

“A-Are you sure?”.

“Of course, I think you should name our second son” replied Vaera.

Aemond looked down at the small babe in his arms and smiled. He hadn’t been blessed with as much hair as Aemon but what silver hair he did have was already beginning to curl. There was only one name he could think of. A name he’d picked out after Vaera had told him that she was carrying his child.

“Rhaegar” whispered Aemond.

“Aemon and Rhaegar” said Vaera smiling.

“Our boys, Princes' Aemon and Rhaegar of house Targaryen” said Aemond proudly.

[vhagar-rider]

Drakari pykiros (Fire breather) Tīkummo jemiros (Winged leader) Yn lantyz bartossa (But two heads) Saelot vāedis (To a third sing)

Hen ñuhā elēnī (From my voice) Pervyssy vestretis (The fires have spoken) Se gēlȳn irūdaks (And the price has been paid Ānogrose (With blood magic)

Perzyro udrȳssi (With words of flame) Ezīmptos laehossi (With clear eyes) Hārossa letagon (To bind the three) Aōt vāedan (To you I sing) Hae mērot gierūli (As one we gather) Se hāros bartossi (And with three heads) Prūmȳsa sōvīli (We shall fly as we were destined) Gevī Dāerī (Beautifully, freely)

[dracaryse]

⚜    ∗ plotted starter for @bigdaddydaemon

─── 𝕺𝖓 𝖘𝖔𝖓𝖔𝖗𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝖓𝖔𝖙𝖊𝖘 𝖙𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖑𝖒𝖔𝖘𝖙 haunting in inflection, the unified voices of the dragonkeepers’ filled the cavernous expanse of the pit, the ringing chorus of an ancient tongue dancing through the dark tunnels on the ebb and flow of rippling echoes. All eyes were cast upon the various tunnels that were carved into the surrounding stone walls, each one unstirring and blackened by shadow; seemingly vacant aside from the faint, eerie cries of the trapped breeze that circled within.

     ❝ Hae mērot gierūli:      Se hāros bartossi Prūmȳsa sōvīli Gevī dāerī. ❞

     The harmonious string of voices would continue to chant for many minutes, faltering in their delivery only when a bright glow of red flames had suddenly cut through the shadowy veil of the mouth to the adjacent tunnel, the burst accompanied by a powerful rumble. An intense heat followed in sequence, radiating from within the passage and prompting each dragonkeeper to take a precautionary step backwards. This particular beast had a nasty reputation for his habit of spewing flame on needless whims. Gravely, they had cautioned their prince of the ferocity of the dragon, but even their detailed accounts of the savage-natured creature could not seem to deter him, and far be it from their place to stand in the way of what was a Targaryen tradition.

     As the flickering radiance of the fire began to dim, the sound of a drawn-out whistle came floating out from the afterglow, so sharp in octave that it could make the hair on the back of one’s neck stand on end. Tremors shook the walls like rolling barrages of thunder as the source of the bizarre vocalization rounded the corner of the tunnel and stepped out from the shadows, a long, serpentine neck slithering through the dark veil to reveal the scarlet scales of the blood wyrm himself. An elongated body snaked out behind him, following his chosen path in a twisting pattern as he curved his way up towards the platform.

     ❝ Lykirī, Caraxes, lykirī!  ❞

     The keepers were already on-guard, issuing commands of calmness to the great beast in due advance, as they were far too familiar with his feral temperament.

[eschercaine]

zaldrīzes tīkuni

The people of King’s Landing, once a small town with wooden palisades and muddy streets, knew no happiness, only fear as a dreadful dragon has been terrorizing a town and its people. To appease the dragon, the villagers use a ritual that sacrificed young maidens, and they sing an ancient song to summon the dragon.

Many years later, the young Princess Rhaenyra is betrothed to Lord Jason of House Lannister. At their wedding, the people sing the ancient ritual song.

Drakari pykiros Tīkummo jemiros Yn lantyz bartossa Saelot vāedis Hen ñuhā elēnī: Perzyssy vestretis Se gēlȳn irūdaks Ānogrose Perzyro udrȳssi Ezīmptos laehossi Hārossa letagon Aōt vāedan Hae mērot gierūli: Se hāros bartossi Prūmȳsa sōvīli Gevī dāerī

In the middle of the wedding, the dragon, who was thought to have been dead, captures Rhaenyra.

Where the princess had gone? No one knows as Lord Lannister searches for his bride futilely in a fog for moons.

(Based on the 2015 Russian film I Am Dragon.)

[bloggeomental]

Canción que canta Daemon a Vermithor

Drakari pykiros Tīkummo jemiros Yn lantyz bartossa Saelot vāedis

Hen ñuhā elēnī: Perzyssy vestretis Se gēlȳn irūdaks Ānogrose

Perzyro udrȳssi Ezīmptos laehossi Hārossa letagon Aōt vāedan

Hae mērot gierūli: Se hāros bartossi Prūmȳsa sōvīli Gevī dāerī

TRADUCCIÓN:

Quien respira fuego Líder alado Pero dos cabezas A la tercera cantan

De mi voz: Los fuegos han hablado Y el precio se ha pagado Con magia de sangre

Con palabras de llama Con claros ojos Para atar al tercero A ti te canto

Como uno nos unimos Y con tres cabezas Volaremos como nos fue destinado Bellamente, libremente

[insufferablelust]

The Prince Regent (Aemond Targaryen x F!Sister!Reader)

{Can be read as the sequel of Gevī}

There are rumors floating around after the march of the greens in Rook’s rest, you were shocked when you learned of what has happened, rushed to confront your brother— you were made to once again quell the madness within with rekindling the fire with him.

This work contains mature acts, Minors DNI. 18+ Only.

Words counted: 10.4k+

Content include: 18+ MDNI! Targcest (canon incest practice of the Targaryen house), Smut, Sex, Oral sex (F receiving), Heavy breeding kink, Slight exhibitionism (Sex at the council chamber), Choking, Rough sex, Dumbification, Manhandling, Slight degradation, Reader has the attributes of the Targaryens (silver hair, purple eyes etc), Mention of violence, Canon injuries and death, Mention of usurping the throne (half-canon), LOTS of pet names, Slightly Dark!Aemond (He is so obsessive and possessive and feral of you.)

Note: Hello! I am back with new fic yay! this is another Aemond fic, which can be read as the follow up of my last fic, Gevī which can be found here, or you can also read it as a standalone, up to you! This work is NOT beta’d (there will be revision) since once more I am still slammed with work so I have yet the time to refer to my beta reader, but hopefully there is nothing much amiss, if there is, I apologize and I hope it will not disturb your reading experience. ALSO AEMOND IS UNHINGED IN THIS ONE YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. Remember that english is not my native language so bear with me. My request is always open for HOTD characters. Enjoy and let me know what you think! thank you my loves.

Masterlist

The day has been moving rather slowly today, you mused, the sun looks as though it is shining but overshadowed by gloomy clouds at the same time— horizon darkens as the end of the day is fast approaching. It has been a strange day, oddly quiet even in the hustle and bustle of a dreaded war-coming, you had heard of your brothers whereabouts, both the King and the Prince as your mother was panicking earlier when they both were absent from the small council meeting.

You ignored the ever so loud chattering of the lords and ladies around the hall, as you sat below the Weirwood tree to read your book, the only place where you ought to sought comfort and refuge from the looming darkness that follows ahead, you had always been more receptive— taking in your surroundings and only use your sharp wit when necessary, you are like your brother, Aemond, in that sense, where you do not find pleasure in talking much if it does not have any meaning to it.

Though, you had not been silent since the days following Aegon’s crowning, your expertise in knowing Westerosi territories and politics are often seen be used by the small council as Aemond would come to you in any instance he needed help. You also always tried to interpret Helaena’s cryptic messages— having realized of your older sister’s ancient-like gift since you were little, it was you that had warned them to move the crowning ceremony anywhere but the Dragonpit when she had said “Beware of the beast beneath the boards.” Yet when they do not paid attention to you nor your sister, tis’ true that your family was one second away from being engulfed in Meleys’s fire if not for the Princess Rhaenys’s last minute compassion.

But alas, you had not been of useful as of late, ever since the passing of your nephew, Jaehaerys, you scolded yourself often on why you were not with Helaena that night, or why you did not have the time to interpret what she had said about the rats, though, Aemond had repeatedly assured you that there was no way that one can know such cruel thing would happen, and that there was nothing you could have done— moreover if you had stayed with Helaena that night, all your lives might be even more in danger due to the fact that you’re a young maiden.

You still feel guilty though, for you had been spending your night in the arms of your husband that night— comforting each other in warm embraces inside your chambers.

You and Aemond had always been inseparable since the day you were born, his little sister— someone he had always come to whenever he was faced with a hard time finding solace due to the constant torment and taunts your eldest brother and nephews has caused upon him. You can scarcely remember the times where Aemond is happy in his childhood, but the memories that stood the tallest in your memory are ones akin to when he would read to you about the Aegon’s conquest or Rhaenys’s journey to Sunspear, or Visenya’s tales with Vhagar.

Another one is when he had ventured through Maegor tunnels to get to your room and would ask timidly to sleep in your room because he was plagued by nightmares, or that time when he had come to your defense as Aegon broke one of your crystal jar, one that housed the famed rose from the North, or that time after he claimed Vhagar, eye sewn shut in Driftmark, you had visited him in his chambers despite your mother’s warning to let him rest when you know better that he would feel better accompanied by you. Tis’ unbreakable this bond of yours, strongly linked, and undoubtedly passionate.

Aemond finds all the thing he is not, in you, you are gentle, soft spoken, soothing in nature— even as your hair is as silver pale as he, your jaws are as sharp he, your wit are as bright as he— Aemond adored the part that truly empowers you, your compassionate self, your jaw-dropping smile, your unmasked confidence, your unapologetic self is what makes him honored to have you by his side.

Your presence calms his raging stormy minds and hot tempered self, your sweet saccharine voice, your angel like touches, your supple smooth skin— always seems to be flustered in heat when near him, your soft lilac eyes that gives him assurances, your slightly curlier locks— something you get from your mother, always half braided with half fanned to your side— the necklace you wore, given by him, a Valyrian ruby that always adorned your enthralling being, you are the epitome of a Valyrian goddess, graced with the beauty that people would go to war for, solicited by your intelligence that makes you powerful altogether. The word ‘infatuated’ does not even cover his love for you.

Speaking of your brother, the days following his return from Storms end had caused many distraught upon learning of what befell your nephew, in the flurry of it all, Aemond had taken your maidenhead, which he swore to wed you then— and that he did, asked his mother to betroth him to you once and for all as you had always meant to be— insisting after the death of Jaehaerys that it is crucial to have more heirs so that if the time comes, your bloodline will not perish so easily— Alicent, of course, had been furious at his son for, “How dare you corrupt your little sister!” but when you came to Aemond’s defense, she let her guard down and at last grant you both what you wished.

The deal with the Baratheons has been annulled… for now.

You both were wed in the sept just a few days after the tragedy, and were happily consummating your marriage if not for the news of Ser Cole and Gwayne Hightower’s success of house Darklyn in Duskendale, and is set to march to Rook’s rest once more, where Aemond is to to join him, he had told you once after an intense rounds of fucking.

You were finally pulled out of your reverie when the chatter around you gets louder, feeling irked by it you look up from you book only to have your frown wiped out by the sight in front of you. You saw few of Aegon’s knighted guards bringing a huge wooden box covered with your house’s sigil— Gods be good. You have thought of the worst then, what if it is Aemond? what if they are carrying his de—

“Princess, Her Grace the Queen Dowager has requested your presence in King Aegon’s chamber.”

Aegon?

“Thank you, Ser Harrold.” You replied, clutching the book tightly as you stand up, and walk towards where the other knights and seemingly hurdles of Maesters rushing to, your throat dried at the possibilities of what might await you once you reach Aegon’s chamber.

Is he alright?

Is Aemond alright?

Did they defeat the Blacks? What happened in Rook’s rest?

“Mother.” You muttered as you halt your steps upon reaching the now packed room, your eyes does not yet know where to land it’s sight on, the frantically moving figure of Maester Orwyle tending to a charred body on the bed, or the hisses that came from the servants who brought fresh linens, cloths, and water, or at your mother who stood with panic written all over her face, eyes glassy with tears.

“What has happened?” You asked, still unable to figure out exactly who is it that laid there, due to the hurdling of bodies taking pieces of armors off. The smell of burning and dragon fire is so evident, that the ladies around you scrunched their nose— you thought none of it considering you are no stranger to the smell of dragons— but what caught your line of sight next shocked and silenced you quickly.

There laid the King, your eldest brother, Aegon, with half of his face badly charred, his body littered in wounds from fire— the sight of him like that makes you choke and sob as you lean against Alicent who also watches with terrified eyes, “Is my son going to die, Maester?” Her shaky voice only enhanced the amount of tears you let out, lips trembling in confused emotions.

How did— who did— why did—

“I will do whatever I can to help him, your grace, but now I must get back because this is the most important step.” Came Orwyle’s response. You may despise Aegon for his lack of respect towards anyone— women in particular, but he is still your brother, your king.

“Why isn’t Heleana here?” You asked, turning your head to look at your mother, “and… Aemond?” came the question that have plagued your mind since you were fetched by Ser Harrold earlier in the Godswood, is he alright? did he suffer the same fate? did the blacks charred him too? I can not live without him, he— I cannot—

“Come.” Your mother beckoned you out of the chamber to sit by the bench near the Weirwood tree you sat earlier, your eyes are frantic, trying desperately to understand what is going on, what happened, and most importantly if your brother— Aemond is alright, “I can not call for Helaena… she—“ Alicent’s voice came with a choked sob, it breaks your heart seeing her like this, after seeing what befell Aegon, you understood that this is hard for her regardless the way how anyone feels about him, your brother, her son.

“I can not put more burden on your grieving sister, you must understand that only you can do this.” Her irises stabs right through yours as you ponder her words, digesting on what she could mean by ‘do this’— you understood why Helaena wasn’t called first thing to Aegon’s chamber despite her being his Queen, his wife, the reigning monarch in his absence, due to her still sullen with grief, but then it all clicks for you.

Ah.

This is about Aemond, if Helaena is your mother’s pawn to strengthen Aegon’s claim, then anything linked to you have always been, will, and must be about Aemond.

Only you,

You’re the only one that can soothe Aemond, calm him, hear him, understand him, discipline him when needed, tame him when necessary.

Only you that can release the ever glooming glorious tension that has risen and finally reached its peak between the heirs— one who was born first as a male heir, and the other one who is actually deserving of it by power and knowledge.

It’s you, his soulmate, his other half— it has only been you and everyone knows it, even your sister whom have said you are meant to fill the socket of the eye that Aemond has lost, you’re the missing piece in his tormented soul, the very needle that threads his wound, heal his anger, and cool down his temper.

But before you can open your mouth to respond, the sound of clanking armor once again reached the both of you and a voice boomed through the otherwise serene peace of the Godswood, “Pardon me, Your Grace, Your Highness, but the small council has gathered, and has asked for the presence of the Dowager Queen.” the Knight spoke, causing you to sigh and drown the words you had meant to speak of.

“Very well, I must return but please,” She looked at you feverishly, “My love, you need to talk to him, reason with him, because he will not do so with me.” Your heart once again breaks at that, yes you may have not had the fondest of love for your mother solely because she was too busy preparing Aegon, being queen in your father’s sickness, and feuding with your half-sister to care for you but alas, just like Aegon, she is of your blood, she is your mother— knowing she feels powerless to aid her own children, so much so, she asked for her youngest daughter’s help is a sorrowful thing to witness.

“I will, mother, now go.” You said, pulling your best smile to soothe her, the tresses of your silver locks blowing in the wind as she cup your face to kiss your forehead before fleeing to the small council chamber— leaving you with your thoughts once more, deserting you to quell over your confusion, with no comfort of assurance or security— you need Aemond, and he needs you, but how can you both reason with him when he is not within your reach, you just seek to know his safety and shield him, Helaena, and your niece of all this— but alas,

Did he do it?

Did he burn Aegon?

Is his desire for power so great that it quenches whatever left of affection you all had as siblings?

What will you do?

You love Aemond, you love him more than anything in the realm, your bond with him as strong as the bond you share with your dragon, Valyx, you do not and will never betray him— you had remembered his promise of making you his Queen, that the realm will bow to both of you, that his love for you is so great that it will be more than enough for him to fight and relinquish in victory— but at what cost? You had half the mind to seek Helaena, to ask for her guidance but that thought is quickly diminished by knowing the fragile state of your sister after Jaehaerys’s passing.

No, you will have to speak to Aemond, whatever result it may produce, whatever madness awaits you, whatever turn of story that may arise— you have to be ready for it, willing to face it, conquer it— for you do not wish for harm to ever come to those you love, to Helaena, your niece, your mother— and most importantly Aemond.

You just hope the Gods will grant you their blessings and forgiveness to what you will do or don’t do.

—

You had waited hours outside the small council chamber, pacing in front of the huge grant door, thinking and pondering on what you must say to Aemond, what you will do to reason with him. Your thoughts are plagued with the memories of your last encounter with Aemond, not that you can help it, it practical branded itself to you— He had always branded himself to your memory with everything he said and does.

It was the night after his small council meeting had gone awry, well according to his recollection— Aegon had once again undermined his knowledge and acted foolishly, not trusting his brother’s judgement, Aemond laid down on your lap, as you caresses his hair, his patch is off now that he is alone with you, in your chambers, with you only wearing your lilac shift and he, a tunic pants.

“Zȳhon mition yne amīvindis.” He had said that night as the flame dances through his iris and shappire— there is that unquenchable anger in him, you felt it miles away even before he laid on your bed, you knew that he was furious by the way he stormed to your room at the hour of the wolf, you had been sleeping when he entered, but quickly made way for him beside you. His stupidity infuriates me.

“Aegon?” You asked as your fingers cards through his hair in a soothing manner, you wish you can take away his pain, his worries, his fear— but Aemond is a hot tempered man, who will not be denied of his desires, who will not back down from a fight, who will never cower in silence, “Hm.” He hummed to you, “He is your king.” You humored him, passing a chuckle to the wind.

“Not for long.” Your fingers halted as he looked at you, trying to process what he just said, you knew your brother is hungry for power— for his throne, but it has always been a blur to you just how he was going to win— especially with Rhaenyra’s looming threat of war now, “Aemond…” You whispered, a distraught look is evident on your face, your rosy lips pout like it is begging for him to kiss you feverishly— to claim you once again.

“Do nor fret, sister,” He said, eyes sharp through yours while he bring his thumb up to your lip to press down on your ever so cute and tempting pout, what a tempting little tart, he thinks, “I do not wish to bring upon the ruin of the realm,” He pushes his thumb slightly in, you gladly open your lips to take the tip of his thumb inside and suckle on it as it is your lifeline. Your eyes closed for a second from a comforting gesture it brings you, he knows this calms you, content you— “Unlike Aegon.” He whispered the last part before completed parting your lips with his thumb so you can suck on it with little mewls of contentment.

He cooed at your subdued state, gods, he does not care of anything but to serve you— give you the realm as you fully deserve, his queen. Beautiful, untainted, pure, and the very image of both the Mother and Maiden bestowed upon a figure— you, you and your flustered self, you and your cherry lips, fluttering eyes, smooth silver locks, body of a goddess, a personality of Eve, charm of Rhaenys, dream of Daenys, fierce of Visenya, and soul that is unique to just you. He worships you more than you know, but he will show you— he will always show you.

“There you go, sweet girl.” His voice both soothe and heat up your core, and it catches you by no surprise when the night ended with you both tangling atop of the bed, with you on your hands and knees, his hand against the back of your neck— as he fucked your cunt with a varying pace of both a feral madman, and a devout husband— yours. You had been naught but a whimpering mess, a shaky shivering little girl overwhelmed with pleasure.

He had worshipped you then, kisses you softly on your skin as he brings you to your peak over and over and over again with his fingers, mouth, cock— every inch of him is solely to make you feel heavenly, so much so, that you are sure that your vision had gone blurry and you slumped onto the bed as he took care of you.

Your mind was quickly pulled once more from your thoughts when you heard the door of the small council chamber had finally been opened, you stood diligently to the side, waiting for your husband so that you may speak to him. You watched the lords move outside one by one, bowing to you when they catch you, which you had curtly but politely nod, until Lord Larys Strong came to your line of sight.

“Princess, how nice it is to see you.” Now you have never hold much disdain towards those who does not deserve it, and though Larys had never done anything to you personally, you are but know how much a rat he truly is. Indeed, he is an intelligent cunning man, known for his whisperings and cruel deeds that, even you, do not wish to know—but for the sake of the crown, you begrudgingly smiled, “Likewise, Lord Larys.” The fingers behind your back is picking at your cuticle in stress, Gods where is Aemond.

“The Prince Regent will certainly be delighted with your presence, regency is not an ea—“

“Regent?” Your brow furrowed at the mention, head spinning and running by a thousand miles— “Aemond… regency?” You asked, desperately trying to figure out what in the Seven hells happened and what has been done by it, “Yes, your highness, he—“

“Larys, may I speak with my wife in private now?” His voice came from inside the room, and you can scarcely see his figure emerging from inside, he is wearing his usual black attire, adorned with a green coat as a sign that he had been riding Vhagar prior, your eyes slipped to see the now two dagger on his side, one each, and your lips twitch with shock as you spot Blackfyre on the scabbard, you can not mistaken it, for it is one of the only two mighty Valyrian sword left that belongs to your family. Aemond had watched you gawking at him with an aura of eerie calmness to him, the sight making your spine curled and skin shivering.

This is all for you, sister, all I do is for you, he wants to say.

Your stare fled from his dagger up to his calm form, the way he holds so much power even when he is just standing there, with his arms behind his back, legs parted, head tilted, and lips pressed into a thin line—your violet eyes went up up up until his own gleams into yours, heating what feels like a suffocating heat around you. You continued staring into his eyes as your heart thundered inside your chest, you do not even notice that Larys had said his farewell and had left you both alone, at the entry of the council chamber— or at least you thought you were alone, before your mother’s voice spoke from behind the door— caught your peripheral vision.

“What are you doing here so late, sweet girl? have you had supper yet?” She asked, hands coming up to cupped your cheek in her otherwise cold hand, she’d been furious, you mused, eyes fleeting to the red marks on your mother’s finger, it seems that old habits die hard, “I wish to speak to Aemond, mother.” You bit the inside of your cheek at the way you almost whimpered his name— yes you are confused and possibly angry at him right at this very moment but he is your husband, the love of your life, your other half— you are also drowned by worries and fears of his safety, especially after seeing the state Aegon is in.

“I need to know he is well.” and safe and I just want to run away with him where no one can find us, I wish this madness can stop and be in peace with him— but you do not say that, no, you just smiled softly at your mother upon hearing Aemond hummed at you intriguingly, almost like he is both amused and mocking your sense of worry.

He knows that you know he did what he did.

Good, he thinks, let you see that he would burn the realm down for you, he would sooner die than to give you any less than what his wife, his precious sweet sister deserves.

“Very well then, I shall check on how Helaena is doing.” You do not miss the way Aemond’s lips twitches at the mention of either your sister or your eldest brother, his stoic self is evermore transparent yet foggy all the same for you to read, “Tell her we send our well wishes…” It’s his turn to speak now, eyes never leaving your figure with his voice ever so so alluringly gentle, “and to Aegon’s recovery, of course.”

Your spine curled at that, the invisible hair on your skin risen at the chill and smugness of his voice— Gods, Aemond… what have you done.. that’s all you can think but moreover, what will I do with you.

Your mother left you both at that, yet you can’t find it in you to move or speak to him, the slit on your dress passes the breeze seeping through your skin, the neckline that came above your breasts seems so tight now as you take desperate breaths to calm yourself down— you both just stared at each other, his, with longing, love, affection, you you you.

Yours are filled with the same longing, same love, same subject of desire yet there is a glint of confusion, uncertainty, and doubt swimming in your eyes— not to spite him or put distrust in him, he knows that, he knows you best— He knows you are just confused, a darling little pet you are, even when thrusted with so many responsibilities at the time of war, you still have that innocent childlike self in you that cowers in his gaze, that is desperate to seek good in the midst of destruction, that is curious, always seeking his approval, his assurances. It warmed him, for he knows that, only he, can assuage that building turmoil inside of you, only he can ease your pain, assure your worry.

“Come.” He said, Aemond beckoned you inside the council chamber with two flicks of his fingers, you followed suit, hands cold in front of you— blood of the dragon yet cold hands, he always muses to you often time he warmed you up, ah you do always love his warmth, engulfing you with security and love, comforting you the only way Aemond can, you longed for that, and you know he longs for it too.

“Aemond..” Your lips trailed as the door closes behind you, there Aemond stopped in his tracks, leaning against the table with his hand perched back against it, lips turned in an amused smirk with his head tilted.

Fuck fuck fuck, you need to focus.

“Aemond…” You said once more, walking closer to him but stopping just few feet away, keeping a respectful distance— not that it mattered much, if he wanted to— and he does— he could have you so easily, manhandles you right here right now, bending you over the very table he now commands and pound you to oblivion, releasing his pent up rage and frustration in that sweet sweet cunt of yours, “Hm?” Aemond merely hummed at you even when his mind conjured up the most obscene things, he has to have you, he needs— “Speak, little one, I am listening.” He grinned with mockery, which made you huff and stomp your feet like you used to do when you were a little girl, yet he finds you so sweet as you do it, only making his heart soar with love and desire for you.

What are you doing to him, little girl?

“What has happened?” What he would do to wipe that pout from your face, why are you testing him so far today, his little nymph, “It was a successful operation at Rook’s rest.” He replied calmly, making your blood boil as you scoffed and shake your head disdainfully at his remark, “It was foolish, reckless even—“

“Did we not took out the largest looming threat?” He pressed on, edging you to be angry with him, “It was a worthy effort, a worthy price.” His eyes twinkle when he see your heating face— such an angry little dove, you are, what a temperament that has long been subdued by your years of princesses duties, causing you to retract back to a shell— though he knows better, that you and him share the blood of dragon and fire in you.

Let it burn, sweet sister, let it burn and we shall emerge from the ashes.

“A worthy effort? your king is at the teetering edge of death.” You bit your lip to suppress your anger, let it simmer but do not let it boil to overheat, “What of Helaena, Aemond? she has just lost her son, and now you’ll take away her husband too?” You tried to reason with him, eyes fleeting from his yes to his puffing red lips back to his eyes.

Focus, fuck, why can’t you focus.

“What do you take me for, sister?” His tone is accusatory, eyes sharply glared at you, if he was annoyed before, he is furious now, “You accused me of treason, is that it? deem me a kinslayer?” You tap your feet below you, a sign that you’re either nervous or irritated— maybe both at this point.

“You said it, not me, Aemond.” It was a pitiful attempt at trying to not think of him that way— even in your anger, you still want to find the good in him, but dearest sister, alas your soulmate is one paradox only you can understand, one cursed being you can love, a match to your own fixation, “Tell me you did not do it.” Your eyes held so much hope in them, pleading and begging for his assurances. He truly would do anything to destroy anyone that make you this worrisome, but if it is him, then he shall do what he always did, to declare his love for you, so immense that he can do naught, but serve the realm on a golden plateau for you.

He closes the gap between the two of you, standing tall over you, leaning his head forward to press his forehead against yours— breathing with rage with his warm palm coming up to cup your jaw, a possessive gesture, served only for you, there is so much passion between the two of you that your mind gets hazy and fuzzy with it, “Sweetling,” He breathes, once, twice, three times, “What have I told you over and over, hm? what did I promise to you?” His words thrum against your skin, with your bones stilling itself in the desire to melt into him— become one with him.

I will never leave you, dōnus ñuhys, you are destined to be my queen, for all the Seven, nor the Old Gods can never deny us.

“There will be nothing left for us if this madness do not cease, Aemond…” You whispered his name, eyes prickling with sharp heat beneath your eyelids— forcing you to close them shut even when you do not want to, “I am terrified.” You muttered it out of desperation and pure fear and that troubles Aemond, oh no no, his little girl, how has he been so blind to your cries.

He can feel his heart tugs with pain, his stubborn self is telling him to soothe you, calm you down, relieve you of your misery that is looming fear, oh little dragon— he hadn’t mean to scare you, only to show you his dedication, for who will he show it else to if not for the most important person of his life? he would not have find it in him to even claimed Vhagar, if it were not for you, you’re his source of life.

“Look at me.” That was not a request from him, but a demand, one you so eagerly followed, “You have me, what are you so terrified of when you have me?” He punctuates each of his words with pressing against you harder, your body jolted lightly as your rear hit the edge of the table after being spun by him.

“The war—“

“If we march together, our power will not easily be subdued— tis’ what needs to be done, and I will be ready to do it, risk my life so we will prevail. Would you not have done the same?”

“I would, you know I would.” Your eyes remained close throughout his declaration, eyes trying to frantically stop your tears but alas, it is a useless pursuit, tears flows down your cheeks at a faster rate than you’d like, at this Aemond cooed, wiping your tears, “You and I, we can have what is ours, sweetling, what has been ours since they took our eye.”

Our eye, he says, not mine— “You’re the missing eye that fills his socket.” Helaena once told you.

“What of Aegon?” You opened your eyes at him, holding his stare as best as you could even when he took a sharp breath and press his thumb on your pouty parted lips, “Aegon rushed to Rook’s Rest to proof his worth despite the better judgement offered by the council,” He paused, nose nudging into yours where you can feel every single allure that drips off your husband like its second skin, “He challenged Meleys, got overpowered, and I had to come in to save the armies… as I have intended to do before he so recklessly join in with Sunfyre.” His lips are touching his thumb now, the only thing shielding your petal bloomed parted lips with his.

You should be concerned by his statement, for you know Aegon would not ended the way he is now if Aemond had actually meant to ‘save him’, there is something else, you know he would not kill out of spite even with the years of insults and torments that Aegon himself, had bestowed upon your brother, he would not deliberately kill him, yet the intention to hurt is not lost on you.

Meleys is a strong dragon of your house, a battle trained one at that, but still not enough against the mighty Vhagar, that fought alongside Visenya on Dornish war and conquer it, let alone two dragons— but perhaps, you have naught but pressing longing now, your impulses seems to control you— your innate desires taking over and you can only do what your heart and body wants, never mind what your mind says, it matters not, you’re his, he’s yours.

You leaned impossibly closer to him, urging him to take away his thumb against your lips by tugging on his wrist as your glistening eyes look up at him with desperation in them, his humming is slightly cold, but you know better that its full of mirth— he is teasing you.

“I suppose now that I am in charge…” He tilted his head menacingly, pressing his lips upon the gap of your brow, hold you tight to him as he took in your rose oil scented skin, how heavenly, he thinks, “You ought to call me, your grace, isn’t that true, princess?” His thumb slipped inside your rosy lips then, the force is too heavy to bear as you sigh and suckle on the tip of his lips— eyes fluttered shut, ��Uh huh.” Your lips parted from his thumb with a lewd pop!

“Your grace.”

Your eyes flit open, droopy with want, heat on the apex of your thigh is ever so persistent against the now soaked fabric of your silk smallclothes, Aemond eyes are sharp— ravenous as he stared at you, “Syz riña.” He purred. Good girl.

Having no more self control over him, Aemond use his free hand to hold the side of your neck— lightly pressing on the pulse point, enough to make your head dizzy, and presses his lips on yours with so much want, need, pressure of claim-claim-claim and mine-mine-mine.

If there is one thing about Aemond is that he’d never be denied, not when he was destined to claim the greatest dragon in the realm, not when he is supposed to sit on the Iron throne, and certainly not when he’s going to have you— no, you’re his, since you were bare as a babe, to now, his beautiful sweet girl of a wife.

Fuck, he’s achingly hard just at the feeling of your lips, body heat, and thought of your sweet flushed face. Gods be damned.

You gasped at the feeling of his teeth grazing your bottom lip, asking— no, demanding you to part your lips by biting at it— not too hard, yet enough to make you squirm on the ledge of the table, as your pretty pink raw lips parted in obedience, he wasted no time to push his tongue inside passionately— exploring your oh so delectable wet cavern like a madman, whilst you mewl with the lightheaded feeling of his grasp on your throat and his tongue battling, or more like conquering yours.

Your body is now dangerous low to the tabletop behind you as your nails fisting weakly at his leather tunic, a silent plea for him to give you time to breathe, its pure instinct he knows, but how can he deprive himself of you. Your melodic whines, the way your pink lips parted and indulge him so so sinfully, the way your chest heave with each gulping breath you try to take, and the way you clench your thigh, oh yes he knows all about it, little girl.

After you slap at his chest for a few times, Aemond finally relent, parting his lips from your now cherry bitten lips— you take big gulps of breath, gasping for what seems to be minutes after he released you, your head spins and you’re sure your knee would not been able to hold your figure even against the table if not for his strong grip on both your neck and waist.

“Come back to me.” He whispered, temple pressed against yours as you let out soft whimpers at the heightened pleasure of fuzziness in your head— just him him him, just Aemond Aemond Aemond, “I— please.” You can do naught but to plead with him, eyes watery as you stared at him—lips trembling, wanting to say so much more, please claim me, fuck me senseless, please make me forget that this realm exist, make me only yours, make me your queen just as you promised— but he knows, Gods he knows you, he knows what you want, he always does.

“Please what, sweetling?” But does it thrill him to no end seeing you so desperate, so needy for his touch that you’d beg and beg—Seven hells, not only is his heart thundered against his ribcage, but his cock is painfully aching at your dewey flushed face, “Use your words, zaldrītsos.” His words might be encouraging, yet his tone is anything but— its mockery, he is taunting you and it makes you drip down your legs. Little dragon.

“Touch me… please.”

You gathered all the voice you have left, even if it is just a mere whisper that sounded more like a meek mewl, “I am touching you.” He said, his fingers trails up and down the sleeve of your gown, making you shudder with want— tiny wantons of needy whines escaped you as his fingers trail upon the material of your silk covered breasts— nipples pert with peaking desires.

“Not— you know where I want your touch…” The frustration embedded within you forced this snappy remark of yours, one he clicked his tongue at, just like he always did when you were little— when you had eaten all your lemon cakes in a single sitting, when you would hide beneath the grassy slope atop of Rhaenys’s hill, when you would constantly fuss to keep his wound clean, so much so that you had stayed whenever the maester came in to change his dressings albeit the warning from your mother. It’s the click of the tongue that signifies not only to remind you of disobedience, but it holds a stronger purpose to know that he so affectionately loves and ardor whatever it is you do, even when you are being a fussy bratty little thing that you are.

“Being an impudent girl for me will not serve you well, I had thought you know this by now.” He shakes his head at you, fingers trailing backwards to slowly unlace the neat tying of your ladies’s work on the bodice of your gown— all the while brushing your half braided silver locks to the side and lean forward to nip at your neck causing you to gasp.

Oh he wishes to bend you to him, but moreover to protect you, all the same, as he did when he would wipe the lemon frosting from your lips, or give you his last candied sweets, or grip your wrist to lead you back to Maegor’s tunnels to not incurs the wrath of your mother, or clasp a hand to your lips to keep you from squeaking as to not alert Aegon of where your whereabouts— it is all meant as a testament of his often unspoken devotion to you, and you know it.

“Aemond—“ You are unable to mutter anything let alone an apology as you feel your gown slides off from your body down as it pooled on the ledge of the table— only held by how your body is pressed against the stone table, now only clad in your thin silk shift and smallclothes, you felt so exposed, your neck snapped sideways as you looked at the door behind you, it dawns in on you that you are in fact in a room where someone could just walk in, and found you both in the state of lewdness, “Aemond, not here.”

“I am the Prince regent, I shall do what I please, where I wish.” Came his reply, you can do naught but shudder at the deep rumble that is his voice, at your small gasp, Aemond continued to press soft almost gentle feather kisses on the exposed skin of your pulse point, down your jugular, to the base of your neck, behind your ear—“Ah!” You can feel him chuckling at your voiced pleasure, he knows you like the back of his hand, which spot makes you tick and jolt— you arch your back when he suck and nip at the sensitive skin, ever so reactive to his touch, you are.

You always are, little dove, like you are made to respond to him— his voice, touch, kisses, pleasure, demands— each and every single one of his decrees.

Aemond palm comes up to cusp your flowery breasts next, fondling the soft skin with your buds firmly against the calloused skin of his palm. He then rolled the blossoming darkening buds of pleasure between his index and thumb, causing you to grip onto his biceps, “Mm Seven—.” You tried your best to remain sane but alas, you never were to begin with, nothing is ever normal nor sane but you could not care less, not when it is him.

He chuckled at your oversensitivity, mouth slide down from the crook of your neck to your stern collarbone, before reaching the valley of your breasts. He looked up at you menacingly as he takes one of your pert bud into his mouth to suckle on it as you yelp— hand clutching his doublet in desperation, you are sure by now that your smallclothes is not only drenched but soaked from the way your cunt pulse with each second going by.

“Doñus riñus.” He murmured as he littered marks all over your now flushed skin, moving to the other neglected nipple, applying the same treatment of pull-tug-suckle on the poor overstimulated bundle of nerves. Sweet girl.

Aemond released your now reddened bitten tender buds with a loud pop! causing blush to once more darken on your flushed skin, he smirks up at you then,“Lay down, ābrazȳrys.” wife. He lightly push you downward against the stone table, you shuddered lightly when your heated skin met the cold surface, your eyes are glistened— wide yet droopy with needy innocence as you stared up at him, eyeing him as he removes his breeches slowly.

“Aemond…” You whined and pressed your thighs together when he keeps on teasing you by undoing his laces way too fucking slow, he knows it will drive you mad especially since your drenched tight cunt is inviting him oh so warmly— fuck, he thinks, you looked like the Maiden and Mother has painted, created the perfect goddess of the realm, silver locks wildly splayed on the table, with your braids almost undone, and your body glistened with thin layer of sweat and some of his spit, skin flushed with his markings on you, “Fucking temptress little slut.” He groaned as he stared at you panting.

Your puffy cheeks are heated with lust and neediness, your eyes stared at him like you always did when you sought comfort or wisdom from him— the same way little you had looked up at him whenever you beg for his remaining sweet treats, or when that first time in your reading chambers, oh how you had asked him so so sweetly to touch you— open and take your maidenhead like a good obedient little girl you are, how your bitten raw lips is murmuring pleads to him as if he wouldn’t give you what you want— oh his poor little darling, always wanting more more more.

Then his gaze fall down the swell of your breasts, the way it rises up and down with each breath you take, inviting him to suck and nip at the tender buds once more, and when he dropped his sight to your fluttering folds— he bit his lip, hard, for the view is both the most sinful obscene yet heavenly thing he could ever have witnessed in his lifetime, there you lay, ready for him, ripe for the taking, and the center of your pleasure is weeping for him to take care of you— to take you.

“Gevie.” He whispered as he drank his fill of you— you, the embodiment of a Princess, a Queen— all in name, nature, body, spirit, and soul, everyone should worship you, for he can swear to the Seven that you are holier than any deity common folk would pray to, you are not just the core of his being, but the essence of his vitality— his his his. Beautiful.

Aemond wastes no time to drop to fold your legs so he can enjoy his treat, he grunted before leaning down to kiss the inside of your mound— hand holding to your hips and one on your thighs to keep them there, his hold is stern enough to let you know that if you were to move them, oh little one, there will be consequences. You tried your best to keep them there as he press sweet lingering kisses all over the very surface of your folds, all wet and begging for him.

You gasped at the sudden sensation of his fingers parting your warm heat gently, making way for his tongue to spread the wetness from your opening up up up through the soft muscle then to your pearl, focusing on the now reddened and hardened nub with teasing licks and not yet a suckle on the oversensitive gem for he knows you would crumble and reach your peak oh so suddenly— no he wants to keep you on edge for a little longer, having you on that teetering insanity, controlling your pleasure as he pleases.

But when he does let up and suckle on the raw pulsing nub— you let out a sound akin to that of a scream, somewhere between a loud needy whine and strained moan— causing him to grunt, sending vibrations through your core, you jolted at the feeling, arching your back to pull away from him but causing a grinding effect instead— you clasped a hand on your lips to stifle the wanton sounds you let out.

“Ah-ah, do not hide from me now, little one.” He rasps against your cunt, you had half the mind to be bratty and yank his hair for causing you to be so so messy, but you only bit your tongue to halt yourself from getting yet another bruises from the last time you were bent over his knee— which was not that long ago, having been ridiculed on yet another Aegon’s quest, combined with your snappy attitude had him seeing red.

“Enough.”

“No.” You raised your eyebrow at the fuming man standing tall over you, having you crane your neck just to look up at his sharp eye and the mean clench of his jaw, “Thread carefully, sister.” He warned you, tilting his head that should’ve been an indication for you to stop— but alas you wanted to push him, to see the limit that is Aemond Targaryen, if only there is one— you rolled your eyes then, biting the inside of your cheek in an act of defiance. Oh now you have done it, little girl.

You barely seen him coming for the next you knew, you yelped as he manhandled you over his knee on the bed, both of your wrists are behind you, tightly gripped by his much larger ones— “Let me go.” You whined, trying to tug free of his grip only for him to chuckle darkly, “You wanted to test me, push me, and now you shall see the consequence of your misbehavior.”

“Aemond—“

“Ah-ah, if you wanted me to treat you like a whore, all you gotta do is ask, darling.” You clenched at that, letting out a squeaky gasp at the way his voice resonates through the room, “Hm, lets see if we can put that mouth to a better use than running your tongue like a tart.” With that he pushed two of his free digit to the inside of your bitten lips— down down down until it rests against your throat.

You looked up at him with teary eyes, heated cheeks, and lips wide open with his fingers stuffed inside of you— both preventing you to speak and constrict your air intake, causing your head to get fuzzy— not dangerous just flying on that mind space of him him him, Aemond notices your now cloudy lilac orbs and pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead— all the gentleness short lived, however, when he freed your wrist from his grip to press a loud impactful swat to your cheeks causing you to yelp against his fingers.

“Now lets see if your dumb little head can count for me.”

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you feel the stinging white noise of his slap against your folds— yelping as you feel your peak closing in, “I’m close— please please.” You writhed underneath him before he gently shushes you, taking one of his hand and intertwining it with yours, whilst he enters your wet warm opening with the other— a finger slides in, before a second joining the pleasurable stretch.

“Tight little thing, you are.” He shakes his head between your thighs but your ears are ringing too loudly to register anything right now, mind so so hazy with cunt so so overstimulated, meanwhile, Aemond continues his ministration on your pearl, suckling on the poor nub with vigorous attention, “Mmnh, I—“ You can feel the height of your pleasure come crashing down on you, stomach tightening with heat, too hard, too much, so quickly.

“Let go for me, sweetling.”

You obeyed at his command, as you always do, a good girl you are always do as he wishes— your peak was a long one with you letting out a silent scream followed by plethoras of his name and chanting ‘ah’s’ and ‘oh Gods!’ as he savor your release.

The man above you grinned as your body shake beneath him, having one of the hardest peak of your life, he pulled his fingers out of you with a satisfied smile— a proud one at that, having to see your essence coating not only the tabletop where all the lords that serve him now would sit to discuss the runs about the realm, about his reign but also covering his fingers. You’re a delectable delight, perfect molded whore, carefully shaped nymph for him. His.

Aemond stands up, intertwining both your fingers together to guide you to sit up— having been near insensate from your heightened senses, he had to support your spine as you shakily face him again— and his sight of you is one he can only describe of all Seven heavens in itself. You, a mess you are, silver hair mused and wild as if you had been on Valyx back, it cascades down the plane of your shoulder and back, your face is flustered, eyes droopy, unfocused, and lips, your lips pulled into a drunken kind of smile.

Oh, he has gotten you in a place where all you can do is take what he gives you. Fuck.

You, sweet pliant you, in the daze of your peak welcomes him gleefully when he presses a passionate kiss on your lips, feverishly moving your lips with his, you gasp as he bit your bottom lip, tongue entering to enter your wet cavern once more, before parting with a lewd pop! sound, “Syz riña.” good girl.

The gentleness of his actions are short lived though, Aemond smirks before you feel him manhandled you around, and bend you over the cold stone table, causing you to gasp in both surprise as well as feeling the chilling sensation on your tummy and up your overstimulated chest area, “Shh, no fussing.” He scolded you as if you’re a child, but his stern tone alone made your knee goes weaker.

You can hear the sound of his breeches being untied behind you, the sound alone has your neck craning to the side, your head pressed against the table and drags one of your leg upwards to graze against his legs, smiling to yourself in a post peak-haze state, “Hurry.”— that soft giggly voice of your demand surprises Aemond as he chuckled behind you, shaking his head at the gentle brattiness you let out.

“Aemond!” You yelped when you feel his hand coming down on your bottom, not once but three times in loud harsh succession— you lift your legs once more not out of teasing nature but to quell the pain and the oh so good feeling that comes from it, your cunt clenching around nothing as you arch, “Little girls who ran their mouth will not get anything but this, you hear me?” He said, palming your now reddened tender skin roughly, though the sensation makes you whimper.

“Of course you’d love that too, filthy girl.” He gives you no time to process his words before he tap the now hard leaking length against your opening, which makes you whine lewdly, he is pushing just slightly in, but not enough to even get half of his tip in, making you cry out in frustration, “Kostilus, lēkia.” Please, brother.

“Hm, I do love seeing you beg for it.” He hummed, pressing a kiss on the skin of your back, before breaching the tight opening of your cunt inch by inch, “Fuck, missed this tight cunt.” He grunts, feeling the way your walls sucking him in inside your warm heat.

The stretch caused you to wail and mewl “Tis too much—“ and, “too big!” if anything, the sound of your protests and the contradicting clench of your cunt around his cock is making him more feral— almost animalistic in how he thrusts harder inside you, before burying himself deep deep deep, head nudging the opening of your cervix with just the right amount of pain from the pleasure of being opened by his length, and pleasure from the way the curved tip hit your spongey spot with ease.

Aemond does not let you breathe much it seems, as he begin his fulfilling assault on your battered cunny, thrusting his length oh so deep before pulling, then slam it back in with vigorous pace, hitting all the right places even when his width alone made you shudder near your peak, “So good— oh!” You moaned, closing your eyes and arching your back, to which he responded with a hand yanking your silver locks tightly, the impossibly deep arch of your back has you both drunk on the feeling.

“Take it, take me.” He moaned in your ear, not once does he relent in his pace, always fucking into you harder, pounding you into oblivion, so much so that your cannot care anymore of who might heard what the of you are doing in the very same table he now commanded, he now holds the highest marble rank, the thought would exhilarate you further if you had not been so consumed by the way his cock reach your sweetest spot over and over again.

“Let them hear you, sweetling— fuck, let them know who you belong to, who is in fucking charge.” His words have double the meaning, that you can interpret perfectly, for he relinquish in the knowledge of claiming you, owning you, which you happily obliged, but he also needs to hear it from you that he has deserved this place, as the Prince Regent, that he has fully earned it, and shall lead the realm as his own.

“I belong to- Ah! you, My Prince…” Your voice is shaky in the wake of your nearing release, your velvety walls involuntarily clenched around him when his hips stuttered at the revelation that is you words, it seeped into his skin, thrumming along his veins— his grip on your hair and waist is tightening, for you are sure that your skin would be covered by his love marks by the morrow, but you did not care, let them see, let them know who rules the Seven Kingdoms, and who is steadfastly stood by his side, his Queen.

“Ao nykē perzōñi iksi, ābrazȳrys. Hen prānot hae mērȳ zālagon indīliks.” You and I are made of fire, wife. We have always been meant to burn together.

“Issa! zaldrīzo ānogar, Īlvon qumblī iāris.” Yes! blood of the dragon, ours runs thick. You replied in the midst of your clouded mind, his declaration has made you seen the stars that for a moment you thought you had been flying through the sky with Valyx, yet make no mistake, for his hips driving into you, and the way he snaked one of his arms down around you to rub at your pearl, instantly ground you back to earth, “Va sȳndroti vāedroma.” Joined as one. He whispered deeply, “Avy jorrālean, zaldrītsos.” I love you, little dragon.

“Come for me.” He rasped deep in your ear, that was the last restraint you have on you, as the combination of the never ending pounding of his cock inside your now oversensitive cunt has you curling your toes, the feeling of his fingers rubbing quick circle over your now engorged reddened nub has tears running down your face so prettily, so messily, painting the perfect picture of a ruined slut just for him.

You came with sobs escaping your lips, the plethora of whimpers of his name heightened the pressure inside the now sex smelling room, the sound of steps are loud from the grounds outside the keep, so does the sound of the occasional knight’s armors clanking, but all of that escaped your mind— too dumb speared on his length to give a fuck, your eyes closed as his hips faltered, feeling him shake above you at the telltale sign of his own impending release, you smiled drunkenly at the knowledge of your effect on him, “Give it to me, please, fill me up,” You mewled softly, finding every bit of your strength left to urge him, “Give me a babe, Aemond— mmh! let me give you an heir.”

Aemond groaned loudly at your words, “Fuck— fucking shit.” You have no idea what you have said to him, sweet girl, you have no idea how the thought of him marking you, both bound by blood, vow, and his seed inside you, does to him. You have no idea how much he wishes to always keep you full of his come, so you may be swelled with babes, because then nobody would ever question his claim over you, nor claim over the true line of Targaryen blood that is deserving of the Iron Throne.

He thrusted inside you one more time before stilling himself deep— so fucking deep inside you with his tip nudging your womb, and releases his seed inside of you with words of lewd affirmations spilling out of his lips, “Good girl, gonna watch you swell with my babe.” and, “Take it, little one, I’m yours— fuck!”

Your neck craned to the side as warmth filled your insides, smiling and biting your lips at the overwhelming sensation of both searing pain as well as being completely full of him, claimed and mark by him, undoubtedly his, “Avy jorrāelan, valzȳrys.” I love you, husband. You muttered, his eye still closed and his lips peppering small kisses along the plane of your back and your spine.

After some moment of calming down basked in silence, with only each other’s deep breathing, and him humming high Valyrian to your ears, he then slipped out of you, before turning you around and carry you to the where the chair for the King, or in this instance, the Prince Regent is located.

He sat down on it, with you laying on top of his lap in a fetal position, the crown of your head is tucked safely under his chin whilst his palm caresses the skin across your back and arms softly, “I hope I was not too rough.” He murmured against your hair, kissing at the messy silver strands lovingly.

“You were…” You mumbled, looking at him mischievously, he raised an eyebrow at you- biting the inside of his cheek awaiting your response, “But I like it.” Came your reply, cheeks flushed once more at the way he muttered something akin to “Fucking hell” under his breath.

“Aemond—“

“I will never put you in danger.” He said, eyes boring into yours, full of hope, full of promises, “Do you trust me?” His voice came out with a hint of vulnerability to you, almost like he bares his neck for you to bite if you so please.

You frown at this, “Of course,” You put your palm on his jaw, “Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo, rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” Vow spoken through time, of darkness and light. He smiled at your words, have long he had dreamed of binding your blood in the tradition of Old Valyria, he is perhaps the perfect devout son that worships the Seven, yet he is also very much connected to the blood of the dragon as you are with yours. Tis’ something he have vowed to do with you once the realm’s stability comes back.

“Do not be afraid.”

“With you? never again.”

It is true that you longed for nothing more than to be with him in a world of your own, in a world where there is no more bloodshed, in a realm where peace is known, no green— no black, just you and him— but you also know that it is wishful thinking, for you all have a part to play, you included, as Helaena has said before, if your part is to be the eye he had lost, if your part is to be his anchor, his devoted wife, his sweet sister, his lover, his destiny, then by his side is where you shall be.

For it is better to go to Seven hells and back with him, then to live in agony without him.

You’re bound by vow, by blood, by wounds, by heart, and most importantly by that invisible string of everlasting fire. You are meant to burn together.

[lavenderinoz]

Hāros Bartossi is the song Daemon Targaryen sung to Vermithor in HOTD, S1E10 (2022)

Voice of Matt Smith, with cover arranged & orchestrated by Christopher Nas.

*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*

Valyrian

Drakari pykiros Tīkummo jemiros Yn lantyz bartossa Saelot vāedis

Hen ñuhā elēnī: Perzyssy vestretis Se gēlȳn irūdaks Ānogrose

Perzyro udrȳssi Ezīmptos laehossi Hārossa letagon Aōt vāedan

Hae mērot gierūli: Se hāros bartossi Prūmȳsa sōvīli Gevī dāerī

English

Fire breather Winged leader But two heads To a third sing

From my voice: The fires have spoken And the price has been paid With blood magic

With words of flame With clear eyes To bind the three To you I sing

As one we gather And with three heads We shall fly as we were destined Beautifully, freely

*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*=*

[valyriihy-iksan]

The accusative case in High Valyrian: Adjectives

Much like nouns, adjectives in High Valyrian have their own types.

(This should be relevant to unit 4 of the Duolingo course)

There are three adjective classes. As far as I understand, the easier way to determine the adjective's class is to Just Learn It.

Class I

Adjectives in this class change from nominative to accusative in Lunar and Solar genders, and have different forms for every gender.

Lunar:

kostōba taoba - kostōbe taobe

kostōbi taobi - kostōbī taobī

Solar:

kostōbys zaldrīzes - kostōbi zaldrīzī

kostōbyz zaldrīzesse - kostōbī zaldrīzī

Aquatic:

kostōbor embar - kostōbor embri

kostōbra embri - kostōbra embrī

Terrestrial:

kostōbon dēmalion - kostōbon dēmalion

kostōba dēmalia - kostōba dēmalia

Class II

Adjectives in this class have stems that end in j, l, n, ñ, r. The forms for Lunar and Solar, as well as Aquatic and Terrestrial, are merged together, the same happens with nominative and accusative forms.

Lunar/Solar:

kirine taoba/zaldrīzes - kirine taobe/zaldrīzī

kirini taobi/zaldrīzesse - kirini taobī/zaldrīzī

Aquatic/Terrestrial:

kirinior embar/dēmalion - kirinior embri/dēmalion

kiriniar embri/dēmalia - kiriniar embri/dēmalia

Class III

The stems of these adjectives usually end in consonant clusters. In terms of nominative and accusative, they behave the same as class II:

Lunar/Solar:

gevie taoba/zaldrīzes - gevie taobe/zaldrīzī

gevī taobi/zaldrīzesse - gevī taobī/zaldrīzī

Aquatic/Terrestrial:

gevior embar/dēmalion - gevior embri/dēmalion

geviar embri/dēmalia - geviar embri/dēmalia

This seems to be it for unit 4!

[westeroswisdom]

Game of Thrones wouldn't have been the same without people speaking High Valyrian and Dothraki. A few words like dracarys and valar morghulis have even made it into English to a small degree.

If a language offers clues to the culture of its speakers, then the experience of learning Game of Thrones’s High Valyrian on Duolingo conjures visions of a bustling historic civilisation in which owls stalk the skies, magic abounds, and the spectre of death forever haunts the imaginations of the living. You learn to say “The woman is sweating” before that most basic greeting, “Hello”. An incongruously cheerful cartoon asks you to translate “All men must die, goodbye.” And, of course: “Ñuhyz zaldrīzesse gevī issi.” (“My dragons are beautiful!”). Described in George RR Martin’s books as the language of the dragon-taming rulers of a once-great empire, Old Valyria has been compared to the Roman Republic, and High Valyrian to classical Latin. The language only assumed full life when linguist David J Peterson took it on for season three of the television series in 2012. Working from the few High Valyrian phrases mentioned in the book – names, places, and the infamous strapline, “Valar Morghūlis” (“All men must die”) – Peterson created an entire language. The Duolingo course was launched in 2017.

Season 2 of House of the Dragon won't be seen until well into 2024. So there's plenty of time to become fluent in High Valyrian through Duolingo before then.

There's a lot more to a constructed language than just substituting a new word for an existing word in English, French, Spanish, Ukrainian, Thai, Xhosa, or whatever. Without a dedicated grammar and syntax, it would just sound like a more fancy form of pig Latin.

It is strikingly detailed labour for something that will be missed by most viewers. “Ninety-eight percent of viewers are never going to know 99 per cent of what we do,” says linguist Jessie Sams, the partner of Game of Thrones’s Peterson(in both life and work, they confirm cheerily, after I awkwardly ask for clarification); the two have since developed the languages in Dune, The Witcher, and Vampire Academy. “It doesn’t matter if people don’t really notice it at the time,” Peterson says, “it’s always going to be there. And so at some point in time, if somebody decides to analyse it, it’s going to hold up or it’s not.” (He recalls watching a Star Trek episode in which the actor for a highly intelligent character mispronounces a word.) Their involvement with projects varies greatly, from working with dialect coaches, to meeting with actors, or being around on set. Ideally, they would get six months to a year to create a language; more often, they’re given two or three. How do they account for the spiralling demand for their services? “Game of Thrones was so big that everyone wanted to hire everybody who worked on Gone of Thrones” Petersen says. “That’s why I got my second, fourth, and 15th job.”

One interesting thing about High Valyrian is that it has four genders. But we're talking grammatical gender.

High Valyrian from 'Game of Thrones' has four genders. Here's why.

You can create your own language, but it helps if you know more than one real world language – to get some perspective.

@languageoficeandfire

[captainswanapproved]

I learned Daemon's High Valyrian song that he sings to Vermithor. My pronunciation is not perfect, and this is a soprano version. I got as close as I could to the original. Also, as far as I could tell from dozens of rewatches of the scene, a couple of the words were not sung. And I think Daemon stopped singing during Vermithor's roar.

It is now my headcanon that Daemon used to sing this to his children and that he also sings it to Rhaenyra when she cannot sleep or she has a nightmare.

Drakari pykiros (Fire breather)

Tīkummo jemiros (Winged leader)

Yn lantyz bartossa (But two hands)

Saelot Vāedis (To a third sing)

Hen ñuhā elēnī (From my voice)

Perzyssy vestretis (The fires have awoken)

Se gēlyn irūdaks (And the price has been paid)

Ānogrose (With blood magic)

Perzyro udryssi (With worse of flame)

Ezīmptos laehossi (With clear eyes)

Hārossa letagon (To bind the three)

Aōt vāedan (To you I sing)

Hae mērot gierūli (As one we together)

Se hāros bartossi (And with three heads)

Prūmysa sōvīli (We shall fly as we are destined)

Gevī dāerī (Beautifully, freely)

[negan-stuff]

9/10

Episode 10: The Black Queen

"Drakari pykiros (fire breather)

Tīkummo jemiros (winged leader)

Yn lantyz bartossa (but two heads)

Saelot vāedis (to a third sing)"

"Hen ñuhā elēnī (from my voice)

Perzyssy vestretis (the fires have spoken)

Se gēlyn irūdaks (and the price has been paid)

Ānogrose (with blood magic)"

"Perzyro udryssi (with words of flame)

Ezīmptos laehossi (with clear eyes)

Hārossa letagon (to bind the three)

Aōt vāedan (to you I sing)"

"Hae mērot gierūli (as one we gather)

Se hāros bartossi (and with three heads)

Prūmusa sōvīli (we shall fly as we were destined)

Gevī dāerī (beautifully, freely)"