adios-chica

[eratosmusings]

Loyalty (II)

Daemon Targaryen x Hightower!reader

summary: your husband returns to consummate your marriage

warnings: adults only, all characters over 18, smut, oral (fem receiving), piv, arranged marriage, manipulation, abortion allusion (moon tea), lot of religious references

word count: 2.4k

previous chapter / dividers

Daemon takes more than an hour to return. Handmaids came in his absence. They take the pins from your hair, bring fresh water and fragranced soap for a quick wash before leaving you in a single shift made of silk. You pace the stone floor as it grows cold from the dying fire. Why has he not returned?

The fire dims and dims until it is no more than a low red glow in the hearth. The silk is frigid against your skin. It chafes against your breasts in a way that has you squirming. Your husband finally returns. It appears he too has bathed and changed. Gone is his embroidered jacket and red sleeves, replaced with a simple white shirt and a simple robe hanging off his shoulders. His hair is damp and a floral scent wafts from him as he approaches.

“I’d thought you’d be in bed,” he says. 

You attempt a smile, though you fear it appears more as a grimace. Guilt weighs too heavy on the corners of your lips. The wait was intolerable but as is knowing how imminent the act is. Knowing what you must do on the morrow. “Is that where you wish me to be, my prince?”

He frowns. “I had only meant I’d thought you’d be asleep.” His eyes dart over you, only to return to and linger where the peaks of your breasts stab into the shift. "Is that all they gave you to wear, jaesa?" He clicks his tongue in disapproval. “You must be freezing.” He pulls the robe from his shoulders and comes to drape it over your own. 

More kindness that you do not deserve. You bow your head. “Thank you, my prince.”

He tisks and turns his attention to the dying fire. “Such formality.” He lowers and begins to arrange new logs over the embers. “We are married now, you must call me something more fitting. Daemon would do well.” He takes a piece of kindling and allows it to catch fire before placing it on top. “Or dear husband, perhaps.” He looks back at you. “Valzȳrys if you’d like to truly capture my heart.”

“Valzȳrys?” It slips out before the rest of his words register as you meet his lilac gaze.

“Wonderful pronunciation,” he murmurs approvingly, standing. “It means husband in Valyrian.” The fire spreads, growing brighter and casting him in its warm glow. It strikes you, rather harshly, that Daemon Targaryen is unparalleled in his beauty. You've always thought him handsome, but in the light of a blaze he is breathtaking.

“I shall try to remember,” you say through the lump in your throat. If you can never allow him children, at least you will give him the allusion of a good, dutiful wife.

His head cocks appraisingly to the side. “Come.” Your feet obey. The warmth of the fire joins the heat beginning to prickle across your skin. His gaze is searching as you come to stand in front of him and you can’t tear your eyes away. “Why wait for me to return?”

Your brows furrow at the question. It’s answer so obvious. “We have yet to consummate our marriage.”

“I did not consummate my last.” His hand comes to toy with the collar of the robe. “I refused the bedding ceremony this evening.” There’s humor in his tone. “Perhaps I did not intend to bed you at all.”

You try to match his easy banter, though there's a tremor in your voice. "Perhaps the sun will rise in the west and set in the east."

He laughs and the sound sends a flutter through your chest. What a beautiful sound. "Do you think I as wanton as a whore?”

"No!" Your hands reach for him, taking hold of his arm. It is solid in your grasp.  "I am sorry, my prince, I did not intend offense."

He laughs again, eyes crinkling. "I merely jest. Your only offense is your continued use of ‘my prince.’”

"Valzȳrys," you offer with relief, letting go of his arm, “I shall do better.”

“My sweet wife,” his other hand comes to hold your face as the first continues to fidget with the robe, “so eager to please.”

Your lips part, but the words die as his fingers follow down the edge of the robe and brush the raised peak of your breast. The sensation, torturous and intoxicating, has you gasping. He takes the distraction as invitation and captures your mouth in a harsh, bruising kiss. Your fingers curl against the cloth of his shirt. Neither to push him away nor pull him closer, but to find a tether in the unfamiliar depths his touch has plunged you into.

He pulls back slowly. Lips plush, pupils blown wide. Hands cupping your breast, thumbs stroking the peaks. Overwhelming, sinful need steals your thoughts. Your eyes squeeze shut. You can't breathe. Your entire focus is on remaining standing. 

"Tell me, jaesa, have you ever touched yourself here before?"

Speech is too difficult. Your head shakes.

"Have you ever dreamt of it?"

Another shake. You had not known it could be used for pleasure. Air greets your lung like a knife when one of his touches disappears.

"How about here?" A hand dips under the hem of your shift, skims along your thighs.

You shake again.

His nose edges along your jaw. "Here? His fingers glide along the apex.

You jolt. No. Never. The words don't make it past your lips. They're trapped somewhere in the shock, the pleasure.

"No?" He speaks for you, his voice low, laced in fond mockery. "What a pure, untouched thing you are, jaesa." His mouth meets yours again. This time his kiss is slower. A whimper leaves you, unbidden, when his tongue sweeps against your bottom lip. His touch continues to move along your most intimate of places. It’s intoxicating.

He draws back, forehead pressing against yours. His breathing is heavy, matching yours. “Now I wish for you to be on the bed.” 

The air feels like ice as he steps away, leaving you bereft of his warmth. You turn, seeking the bed, and stumble forward. Your toe catches on the edge of a table. The pain is sharp and you nearly drop to the floor.

Daemon's arms wrap around you. "Careful."

His touch is maddening. "Yes, valzȳrys."

There's a sound that seems to stick in his throat. Your feet are no longer on the ground. "The bed, jaesa." A surprised giggle leaves as you fall back on the bed. It's plush, more so than your own. And warm. Daemon climbs over you, bracing his weight on his forearms. The firelight casts his features in a soft glow, giving the illusion of gentleness.

He presses his lips against yours, hungry. Your hands cling to his arms. A small moan vibrates from him. There's a firmness pressing into the apex of your thighs. The pressure is nearly as wonderful as his fingers had been. You arch towards him. He presses back.

Then he's gone. Your mouth falls open in protest, a small sound escaping. Daemon sits on the edge of the bed. He’s smug as he tugs off the simple shirt. He stands and drops his trousers, revealing more of his toned physique. Your cheeks burn. His member, juts up proudly. You swallow and avert your gaze. Surely, that cannot fit inside of you.

"Does my cock offend you?"

"No," you say quickly. "It is," your mouth sticks like you'd eaten too much honeyed bread, "large."

He laughs boisterously. "You will find, sweet wife, that it is a gift." He kneels back on the bed, his hands grasping at the hem of your shift. Your eyes snap up. His dance with mischief. "May I remove this?"

Your throat is dry. You nod. The fabric lifts. Your limbs move as they're told. You help him rid you of the silk. The air is cold.

"Beautiful."

Your body trembles under his gaze.

"Lie back."

Your body obeys. His hands slide down your thighs, pushing them apart. Then he is between your legs, kissing his way up your inner thigh. Your mind reels. No one had told you this part. When his mouth finally meets the place his fingers had toyed with earlier, you wonder how anyone could not enjoy this.

A gasp fills the air. Your hands fly to his head, tangling in his hair. Divinity lies between his teeth.

"I have decided," he whispers against your flesh, “that your taste is far better than any berry’s.”

Your hips roll of their own accord. He groans, his grip tightening on your thighs. Then he is back to licking. Your eyes screw shut and your hands grip tighter. There’s a pressure building. The tightness nearly unbearable.

"Valzȳrys," the plea is breathless. You don’t know what you’re asking for, but he must. 

He hums and the vibrations have you bucking. His mouth continues its silent prayers. Your eyes beg to close, but the glow of his lilac gaze refuses such a sin. He watches, equally as enraptured, as he pushes you higher and higher. Ecstasy. You cannot breathe, cannot move. His name, his title, every version of him, is on your tongue, begging. The pressure cracks your walls until they crumble and it is blasphemy that leaves your lips. A moment passes with the wave that follows and then another, your body trembling. The pleasure is slow to subside. His tongue has eased, but continues with languid strokes. Warmth tingles across all of you. His eyes have not given you leave.

Slowly his mouth leaves your sex. A whine leaves you at the loss. "Are you well, sweet wife?" His mouth glistens and the bed shifts as he crawls over you.

"Mhmm," you reply, letting your hands fall from his hair. More than well.

His lips curve, pleased, as they meet yours. They taste nothing near as sweet as a berry. Something presses against you. His member—his cock as he called it. His lips travel down your neck. "Are you ready?"

This is where the pain shall be. Perhaps so terrible it makes all you've done forgettable. There's no other reason you can think of that women would hate it after the pleasure you'd just received. But it is duty. At least, you must keep the appearance of it. You take a deep breath and nod. "Yes, Valzȳrys."

He presses forward and the stretch is uncomfortable. He pushes and a burn begins that makes you squirm. There's a pause."Forgive me," he breathes then his mouth returns to yours. A sharp, awful pain tears through you as his hips slam forward. Your vision blurs with the sting of tears. Your nails dig into his arms.

"The worst is over," he promises

You nod at his falsehood, still unable to see, and attempt to slow your breathing. It is for naught as the pain continues with the movement of his hips. The gods punishment for your sins, even the ones you've yet to truly commit. He whispers something that could be an apology and kisses the tears from your cheeks. You do not say anything. To suffer this for him is your duty.

"Breathe, jaesa. Just breathe."

You force yourself to match his rhythm. Breathing deep, his steady strokes begin to dull the ache. The tenseness in your muscles begin to release. There is some pleasure hidden beneath the discomfort.

"That's it," he encourages, his hand snaking between you.

You cry out as he circles his fingers sending a new wave of ecstasy through you. It spreads like Wildfire. You don't understand. It's supposed to be awful. How can it feel so wonderful?

"I am not a man of patience," he lets his forehead rest against yours, "but these sounds were worth the wait."

"Valzȳrys," your eyes shut and the pleasure builds. It drowns out any lingering discomfort. Only cries of prayers and profanities filling the room as his movements grow more erratic.

His breath stutters. It sounds as if he curses in Valyrian, though you cannot be sure. Then he stops, retreats, and leaves you painfully empty. Something warm and heavy falls across your stomach in thick strings. Your eyes open to his. Breathing ragged. Hair damp with sweat. He presses a kiss against your temple. "I shall bring the basin."

Your brow furrows. "Are we done?" Your body still tingles, tense again. Anticipation rather than pain.

His eyes crinkle but he says nothing, climbing from the bed. Your eyes stay glued to him. It's an enticing view. He returns to the bed with the basin in hand and sits beside where you lay. You know that the seed should sit for a while before it's cleaned away to ensure it takes. That's what the Septa had said. You do not repeat it to Daemon.

The rag is cold and your gasp at the contact leaves your husband issuing a humored apology. He wipes between your legs first, tinging the rag red, before cleaning the seed from your stomach in short, slow swipes. When satisfied, he sets the bowl on the floor and lays beside you. You wonder how you'll be able to sleep when your body still pulses with desire.

"Straddle my face."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Straddle my face," he repeats, "as if you were mounting a horse."

You think you understand the intention, but it seems unnecessarily dangerous. Could he not simply lie between your legs again? "But I will hurt you." Or suffocate him

"You will not."

He helps guide your leg across him, settling your knees on either side of his head. "Lower yourself, do not deny me your taste," he commands. His hands grip your thighs and you obey. He groans. The sound is muffled and then his mouth is back on your sex.

It is different. Not better, not worse, but different. Your body sings and hands fist in his hair. Your husband's tongue is skilled. A blessing instead of the curse you'd been told. For he has you quaking in only a few flicks. Pleasure courses through you like lightning. Yes, his years in pleasure houses were as divinely ordained as your years kneeling in the Sept. Your chest heaves as he coaxes out a final shudder.

When you can breathe again, he grins at you from between your thighs. The image deserves its own depiction in stained glass. "Now, I believe we are done."

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[cherriecove]

A Courtship of Politics and Passion (Part 1)

Jacaerys Velaryon x Hightower!Reader

Summary: Cannon divergence, Rhaenyra Targaryen is queen after the Dance of The Dragons. In order to secure peace and ensure her son is able to take his rightful place on the throne after her she decides to make allies out of previous enemies. Cherrie's Note: Hi Guys! thought I would try something new with this one and I am not sure how I feel about it. Please feedback with your opinions! Masterlist | Next Part

The Red Keep was alive with the hum of conversation, the clinking of goblets, and the soft melodies of minstrels playing in the background. Lords and ladies from every corner of the realm were gathered for the royal feast, a display of the Targaryen dynasty's power and grandeur. Long tables draped in crimson and black, the colours of House Targaryen, were laden with exotic dishes from across Westeros and Essos. Golden candelabras cast flickering shadows across the hall, while the walls echoed with laughter and murmurs. Yet, beneath the opulence of the evening, an undeniable tension lingered, weaving through the crowd like an unseen spectre.

At the heart of it all sat Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, her presence unmistakable atop the Iron Throne. The sharp edges of the throne's swords reflected the light, a stark reminder of the power it represented—and the blood that had been spilled to keep it. Rhaenyra, now seasoned by years of rule and the bitter lessons of war, held herself with a regal composure. Her violet eyes, piercing and calculating, swept over the gathered courtiers with the practised gaze of a monarch who had seen both treachery and loyalty in equal measure. Her silver hair, cascading down her back in intricate braids, gleamed under the hall's torchlight. She had fought too hard for her crown to be complacent now.

Beside her stood Jacaerys Velaryon, her eldest son and heir, the future of the Targaryen line. His face, usually marked by the confidence of youth, was clouded with a grim solemnity. He had witnessed the horrors of the Dance of the Dragons, the civil war that had nearly torn their family asunder. The weight of the crown, one day destined to be his, already seemed to press heavily upon his shoulders.

Tonight, however, it was not the memories of the war that darkened his mood but the arrival of a particular guest—a guest whose very presence stirred old wounds.

Lady Y/N Hightower had made her entrance at court earlier that evening, drawing the attention of every eye in the hall. The daughter of one of the most powerful houses in Westeros, she embodied grace and poise as she moved through the gathering, her green silk gown flowing like water around her. Her beauty was undeniable, with her high cheekbones, delicate features, and eyes that gleamed with quiet intelligence. Yet, to Jacaerys, the green of her dress was more than a simple fashion choice—it was a reminder of the bitter rivalry that had once divided the realm.

The Hightowers had been instrumental in backing the Greens during the succession crisis, when Aegon II, spurred by the manipulations of his mother and the ambitions of his grandsire, Otto Hightower, had tried to claim the Iron Throne. The conflict had pitted Targaryen against Targaryen, nearly destroying their house in the process. The enmity between the Hightowers and the Targaryens had run deep ever since, and while the war had ended, the scars it left behind had yet to fully heal.

Rhaenyra, however, was no fool. She understood the precariousness of her reign, the fragile peace that had been brokered after the war. She had outlasted her enemies, but she knew that victory alone was not enough to secure the future of her family. Political alliances were now the key to maintaining the delicate balance of power, and Lady Y/N Hightower represented such an opportunity. The Hightowers, with their vast wealth and influence, could either be formidable enemies—or invaluable allies.

"This marriage," Rhaenyra said softly, leaning toward Jacaerys as they observed the feast below, "will strengthen the realm. With the Hightowers under our banner, no one will dare question your claim when the time comes."

Jacaerys clenched his jaw, his gaze fixed on the goblet of wine in his hand. "The Hightowers betrayed you, Mother. They sought to tear our family apart. And now you ask me to marry one of them?"

Rhaenyra's expression softened, but her voice carried the weight of hard-earned wisdom. "We can no longer afford to dwell in the past, Jace. The realm cannot survive on grudges. Peace is built on pragmatism, and Lady Y/N represents a chance to put old rivalries to rest."

Jacaerys glanced across the hall at Y/N, who sat at a place of honour among the noblewomen. She was poised, her demeanour betraying nothing of the storm that brewed within the room. Her beauty was undeniable, but all he could see was the history her name carried. The name Hightower was stained with betrayal in his eyes, and he struggled to separate the woman from the house she came from.

The greens, the banners of their enemies, still haunted him. They had flown high during the civil war, a symbol of the division that had nearly destroyed House Targaryen. To see them again, even in the form of a gown worn by the woman he was now expected to marry, stirred a deep unease within him. Could he truly trust her? Could he trust her family?

"I will speak with her," Jacaerys said after a long pause, his voice laced with reluctance. "But if this peace is false, if they betray us again..." He trailed off, his eyes darkening. "The consequences could destroy everything we’ve fought for."

Rhaenyra studied her son, recognizing the weight of his hesitation. She understood his doubts, for they echoed her own. Yet, as queen, she had learned that sometimes survival meant making alliances with those you least trusted. "I know," she replied quietly, her hand resting briefly on his arm. "But sometimes, Jace, the only way to ensure the future is to risk the past."

As the evening wore on, Jacaerys's gaze remained on Lady Y/N. He would speak to her, as his mother had requested. But in his heart, the seeds of doubt had already been planted, and he feared that peace, however tempting, might come at a far greater cost than anyone was willing to admit.

[doctorwhoandfairytaillover]

Mine (Two - Shot)

Summary: Daemon has always made his feelings about Otto Hightower and his offspring quite clear, but the night of Laena's funeral, he doesn't seek out Rhaenyra but instead sequesters himself in his room. It's there that he finds that perhaps he doesn't hate all of the Hightowers. (AU with another elder Hightower daughter)

A/N: I have a love - hate relationship with Daemon, but I gave it a shot. When I tell you that I refuse to make this any spicier and was already struggling as is 🤣 but I just had to write this down. This has been divided into two parts, cause it was something else.

|| My Masterlist ||

She was the eldest daughter and second child of Otto Hightower, but this meant nothing to the man. She did not receive much attention, her father was far too busy with the web of political intrigue and keeping his youngest and favorite child at his side. 

It was why she did not hold the same level of animosity toward the Rogue Prince, Daemon Targaryen as her Father and younger sister. She had always been intrigued by the prince but the prince despised the entire family of Hightowers, and she was no exception. 

But when he saw her standing beside her family at the funeral of his second wife. In her green dress, he sneered at her just as he always had. Even though she had never shown to be like her father and sister, he only lumped her alongside them.

Which was why she didn’t understand why she thought it would be a good idea to visit Daemon's chambers that evening. Of course, his wife died and he needs consolation, but she didn’t think he would be that glad to see her. 

There were no guards posted at the door, so it gave her a chance to calm her racing heart when she hesitated knocking at his chamber doors. She breathed deeply and knocked, hearing a soft, Come in. 

She stepped into the room before she could change her mind and go back to her own chambers for the night.

Daemon sat in a chair by the fireplace with his legs spread apart.  Loose shirt and pants, it was clear that he was getting ready for bed.

She felt like she had made a mistake, she was defenseless and scared. She tended to be fearful of men normally and yet she had practically walked herself into a dragon’s lair. 

And that dragon was Daemon.

When he saw her standing there on the threshold of his chambers, his eyebrows almost furrowed, and she was already preparing for him to say some rather harsh words because of her presence. 

“Are you lost?” He chuckled, raising one eyebrow. “This isn’t the tower of the Hand.” 

His gaze slid over her green nightgown with its delicate neckline, and down towards her legs. 

“No… actually, I came to see you” she muttered nervously, playing with the sleeves of her nightgown. 

“Me?” He asked in amusement. “And what would you come to see me for?”

"I thought... well I thought that you might need some comfort" she mumbled. 

He chuckled at her words, to him it looked like the Hightower girl did not realize the implications behind what she was saying. Not that he minded it, he might hate her whole family, but Daemon wasn't a blind man to see that she was absolutely beautiful. 

"Come closer, my dear" he said, crooking a finger to have her come closer. "I don't bite.... too hard." 

She gulped nervously and took a few steps closer, but was still too far for him to reach her. 

"Oh surely you can come a little closer, in fact," Daemon opened his legs a tad wider and patted at his lap. "Come sit here, it would make our conversation much easier." 

This only tensed her further and she bit her lip in thought, immediately his eyes turned to her lips despite that not being her intention. 

She knew that there were already several lines that she was crossing that night; showing up to a man's room without a chaperone, being with him alone (at night no less), and other lines of decorum that would have her father absolutely furious. 

But she wanted.... no she needed to be closer to him, even if perhaps every fiber in her being was warning her that this was a bad idea. 

"Would I not be too heavy?" She whispered. 

This amused Daemon immensely, "Do you think me that weak of a man?"

"No! Never!" 

"Then?" He tilted his head and looked at her expectantly. 

She could practically hear the pulsing of her heart in her ears, every step closer to the Rogue Prince had her on edge. But it did not take long for her to stand before him, and despite her standing tall in front of him, with the smirk on his face she knew that Daemon had all the power in that moment. 

He smirked, “Hello there.” 

“Hello” she whispered back. 

“Will you finally sit on my lap as I told you or would you rather I helped you do it?” 

She almost jumped out of her own skin when she felt his hands on her waist and slowly guided her to sit on his lap, feeling the heat and power that he radiated even while seated on a simple chair. 

“Now see, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” he said with a raspy laugh. 

She let out a shaky breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding until that moment and nodded in agreement. Her own smaller hands were careful as she placed them over his chest and hesitantly ran them over his hardened stomach and shoulders. And if she didn’t know any better, he seemed to almost purr at her tender and soft touch. 

Her heart still beat quickly, but in that moment, all she could focus on was that indescribable look that darkened his purple eyes. It was a gaze that she had never experienced before, even more with the time that she had been kept at Oldtown with the sole company of her septas and maesters. 

No, the gaze of Daemon felt like he acknowledged that she was a woman too. 

Something that she had never been permitted to experience, especially considering that even with his lack of attention and care, Otto Hightower had made sure to sequester the girl away from the attentions of men. Never given the chance to have someone look at her with the reverence that Daemon Targaryen was bestowing upon her, and she was sure that despite her fear, she wanted to hold onto him for as long as he would allow.

But even with that reverent gaze, it did not take away from the fact that sitting on his lap was beginning to feel uncomfortable and she couldn’t help but shift herself where she was seated. 

Daemon took a deep breath to keep himself in check, his eyes closed for a moment, before opening them again, now looking directly into her eyes. 

“If you keep moving like this with little restraint, I might snap. And who knows what a dragon is capable of if provoked?” His voice held an edge, a barely contained lust in his words.

“But I haven't done anything to you,” she said with confusion in her voice but still a warmth settled in her belly. 

“No?”

The hand on her hip went up, his palm tracing over her pudged waist and hip, his thumb teasingly slipping under the edge of her nightgown, caressing the skin there.

“You’ve done enough already,” he laughed. “Just sitting here, all nervous and beautiful, looking at me with those wide, innocent eyes. And then moving on my lap like a little brat.”

“But I can't help it!” she huffed. “It isn’t comfortable to sit on a person’s lap for long, you wouldn't punish me for that, would you?”

“I should punish you for that,” Daemon mused, his free hand still caressing at the hem of her nightgown, his thumb tracing the line up and down the seam, up and down the side. “You’re playing a dangerous game, sweet love. Here sitting on my lap, squirming in my grip, while I try to keep my hands off of you.”

She doesn’t know what bravery or stupidity comes over her at that moment, but she kisses his cheek and looks at him with an innocent gaze. “Would that help avoid punishment?”

Daemon’s reaction to the kiss on his cheek was instant: his breath hitched in his throat, his grip on her hip grew tighter, and his trousers suddenly became rather uncomfortable.

He closed his eyes for a moment and took another deep breath to collect himself, before opening them again and seeing that innocent expression upon her face.

“You little brat,” He mumbled through bared teeth and squeezed her hip again with a deep breath, his fingers digging into her soft flesh.

He leaned closer so his mouth was next to her ear, a soft, almost imperceptible brush of his soft lips on your earlobe. “Keep looking at me like that and you’ll be in trouble. You don’t even know what trouble looks like, little love.”

Daemon’s breath was warm against her skin, and the hairs at the back of her neck stood up when she shivered at his touch. The hand on her hip started roaming once again, but this time it moved towards her belly, his palm resting upon her stomach.

She giggled softly in his ear, “Daemon, that tickles.”

Only it seemed that her lighthearted giggles made his blood burn hotter.

“Does it?” He said with a hint of mischief in his voice, and his hand on her stomach started to move again, sliding just slightly under the hem of her nightgown, his fingers now on the soft skin of her thigh, gently caressing it.

She giggles harder and tries to pull away, “Daemon! Stop, I'm ticklish!”

Daemon smirked as her squirms grew stronger while she tried to escape his hands, but his grip on her never faltered. He had her caught like prey in his trap.

“Oh? You’re ticklish, are you?” His fingers slowly crept even further up her thigh, now caressing the sensitive skin just underneath her ribs. He kept rubbing over the sensitive spots, his hand roaming over her stomach and sides, up and down. His mouth never left her ear, and the quiet, low sighs and gasps that escaped from him on an occasion were hot against her skin while her own smaller body shivered and writhed in his lap.

“Oh Daemon,” she whimpers softly. “I.... I feel weird.”

“Is this a good weird?” Daemon asked in a low growl, his hand now slowly crawling further up, to the underside of her breast. It was the first time he had touched her like that, but he was going for more.

“I think so, I've never felt like this before,” she sighed softly. 

“Never before?” Daemon repeated, slowly and quietly in thought. His palm stopped caressing her skin, just below her ribs, his fingers splayed over her hip bone. He was curious, he wanted to know if anyone else had touched the Hightower girl before him. He had a suspicion that she was quite untouched and innocent, and it only fueled his arousal.

“I've... I’ve only kissed a boy once, and he had only held my hand” she mumbled. “Nothing more than that.”

“Aww. A sweet little kiss?” Daemon almost chuckled, his tone and words obviously mocking her, as if she were so inexperienced and naive. "And only held your hand once? Who was this boy?"

“I only remember that he was a Lannister, I never saw him again” she shrugged with nonchalance as most visitors didn't come back.

" A Lannister, hmm?" Daemon pondered for a moment, trying to think over the names of different Lannisters at the moment, before eventually deciding it didn’t matter. He returned his focus back to her, on how inexperienced and innocent she was, and on her sitting on his lap, squirming and squirming, trying to get away from his teasing touch.

His fingers continued to glide over her skin, his nails slightly scratching over the softness of her sides, before slowly moving back towards her ribs.

"Have many boys tried to court you?" Daemon asks, his voice now low, deep and smooth, his nose nearly nuzzling her ear.

"Not many, I think. Father would never tell me," she sighed contently. “Or perhaps I was simply too naive of it all.”

Daemon chuckled at that. Of course her father wouldn’t tell her. To him, the girl was likely just a future pawn or tool, just an insurance policy for the Hightowers’ safety despite being his oldest daughter. He continued to caress over the sensitive skin of her stomach and sides, while simultaneously pulling her body even closer against him, pressing her firmly against his chest. He wanted her as close as possible.

His free hand started slowly making its way up her body once more, tracing a path up her side, her ribs, her chest, her neck, her jaw until it finally settled on her chin and then lifting her face up to look at him.

Her breath hitched in her throat and stilled.

“There,” Daemon said quietly as he finally had her bright eyes look at him, with his hand gripping her chin and holding her head in place. The proximity allowed him to fully take in her expression and features. Wide innocent eyes, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and the way her chest rose and fell with each shaky breath. 

He slowly licked his lips.

He couldn’t help himself. 

One look at her was enough to drive him crazy. Not just her looks as that had been obvious enough, but that innocence and how inexperienced she was. 

How she was sitting in his lap, trembling under his touch.

His to take. 

His to enjoy fully.

“Daemon,” she whines craving more of his touch.

“Yes, my little love” Daemon hummed, his eyes darkening at the way she pleaded for his touch. His hand on her chin squeezed the slightest bit as she let out a soft whine, her lips all pouty.

He wouldn’t be able to contain himself for much longer.

“Would you kiss me, please?” she pleaded.

The question was almost laughable considering how much he wanted to do that. He was already struggling to hold himself in check. Daemon chuckled softly, his eyes fixed on her lips as she let out another little plea.

“Do you want me to kiss you, little love?”

“Please?”

“Since you asked so nicely,” Daemon answered as his thumb released her chin and gently brushed over her bottom lip, tracing its shape and softness.

He knew he should have been careful, he knew he should’ve held himself back, but he couldn’t. He leaned closer until his mouth was just inches from hers.

He looked into her eyes and the sight only made it worse. Her wide, innocent expression fueled his lust even more.

“You’re so lovely,” he said in almost a whisper, before finally closing the remaining distance between them and gently bringing his lips against hers.

And to her it was everything.

She moaned softly and tugged at his hair.

Daemon groaned against her lips. His hand on her side instantly gripped tighter, while the one on her hip moved to her thigh. He angled his head to kiss her even deeper, even hungrily, taking advantage of her mouth and inexperienced kisses.

His tongue licked over the seam of her lips, demanding entrance and making her open her mouth for him so it could enter. He took his time enjoying the taste and sensations, his tongue caressing the inside of her mouth, before his hand on her thigh started pulling her even further up his lap.

She could only pull at his hair harder and move her hips to feel him closer, making Daemon grunts against her mouth. His hand squeezed the flesh of her thigh tightly, as it pulled her even higher up, almost straddling his lap. She was now firmly pressed against his chest, her hips pushed hard against his, his hand keeping her in place to avoid her falling. 

He took a moment to savor how it felt to have her pressed against him, how good it felt to have her body pushed against his. Without breaking the kiss, the hand on her thigh slowly traveled up, under the hem of her nightgown, his fingers brushed against her soft, bare thigh.

She put her hand over his and whispered, “Please Daemon, I need you.”

Daemon broke the kiss to look at her, his breath heavy and ragged. His lips were red and swollen from the kiss, and fire was evident in his eyes as he stared at her.

“Need me?” he whispered in return. His fingers kept gliding over the sensitive skin on her inner thigh. “What do you need me to do, sweet love?”

He was growing impatient, the thin control he was still holding onto was slowly snapping. He had so many things he wanted to do to her, so many ways he wanted to take her and claim her as his own. His hand on your thigh started to slide even further up your dress.

She knew her father would be furious, but all she could say to Daemon was, “Make me yours, please!”

“Make you mine?” Daemon repeated slowly, his eyes fixed on her own tear filled eyes.

He pushed her firmly up against his chest, his hand still roaming under the hem of her nightgown, and the fingers of the other running across her stomach. His lips were close to her ear, warm breath caressing her neck.

“Is that a question or a request, little love?”

“Whichever helps keep you close to me,” she practically spat out impatiently. 

The low, almost growl-like sound that escaped his throat sent a shudder down her spine. The hand under her dress suddenly squeezed the flesh of her thigh with a bruising grip.

He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

“Are you mine, sweet thing?” He asked with a commanding tone and another squeeze to her thigh.

“Yours, only yours” she said without thinking about the repercussions.

“Good girl,” Daemon praised in a low murmur, his lips brushing over her neck as he spoke, slowly inching closer to the sensitive spots. While his mouth was still near her ear, his hand under her dress fully cupped her breast.

That indescribably warmth settled once more and for the rest of that eventful night as she let Daemon whisper one word in her ear.

“Mine.”

[howyouloveyourdragon]

alicent had an older widowed or still unmarried sister that hears what otto has been planning and decides to ruin his plan and save alicent from that life by making viscerys focus on her instead. I think she could stop the dance of dragons if only to spite otto & become bugs with daemon while doing it. Headcanons but can use to turn it into something longer. Thanks for considering

oh gosh this was a very interesting take im so happy i could indulge :)

this is the first version, a second version will be posted soon after

pronouns: she/her warnings: vizzy t

so i decided to make her a widow seeing as i think it would add a lot of depth to see her wanting to protect alicent from the life that she herself had

maybe she catches viserys looking at alicent who just looks so much like herself when she got married for the first time

when otto sneaks into conversation that he wants to wed her to him, you put yourself forth and take over her expectations and go in her stead, smirking as flirtatiously as you can at the frail King and insisting you help with his ointments

now i could imagine you arguing with otto to let you trade positions with alicent seeing as you have also lost your spouse and it makes sense for you to empathise with him, he might argue that you are not the pure choice or perhaps push the both of you toward him

you don't wear your mother's dresses–they're too sacred for that and you forgo your religious symbols

so regardless you go instead of her and dressed in your mourning attire especially if you are still grieving, your father is an ambitious man and you know his intentions so you will simply foil them and marry the old king yourself

you are a beautiful woman with plenty of suitors before your first marriage and against your father's judgment, viserys is quick to welcome you

a warm comfort of understanding passes over you both

you do not feel the need to lay a thick affection, simply offering your condolences and rubbing his shoulders

slowly you make a show of exploring the castle ground with him, asking what has changed since you were young

it has been a long time since you were home and he is all the more keen to help you

eventually you propose a mutual decision

to get married and mutually benefit your families

but there is one condition

Rhaenyra will be Queen after he passes

he needs an son to quieten his council, someone to look out for Rhaenyra's throne and you need a husband

it is a logical choice and he cares for you

whether the relationship becomes platonic or romantic, he comes to a deep affection with you and especially after you fall pregnant with his child

though you both hold your breath once he is born a boy

as queen you take the role of alicent's guardian and suggest lightly to your husband that your father is not to be trusted

that he is cunning and resourceful

you convince your husband that otto's spies were planted and malicious only to threaten her throne

but you also pay a visit to rhaenyra

you ask her what happened very plainly and when she lies boldly to her, you send a warning and kiss on the forehead as a show of goodwill

then daemon is exiled again and it is the first time you raise your voice to your husband

the argument is long, loud and tedious but eventually he agrees to give rhaenyra a few more years of prospects and give daemon the chance of redemption

rhaenyra is unsure what to make of you and your possible intentions until you demand she have a place at the small council not as cupbearer but as an official presence to make decisions and learn from her fellow lords

slowly you guide her into positions of power and discuss with her the importance of morality

you request visits with her to dragonstone under the guise of motherly bonding

she requests to arrive on dragonback and surprisingly you agree with a smirk on your face

the ride is arduous and you cling to her waist tightly, clawing as though you will fall at any moment

but it is also exhilarating

once you both arrive, she is surprised to hear you have hidden something for her on her own grounds

she frowns, worried this may be a coup but when you lead her into the council room then gasps

there before her is daemon, her daemon grinning wildly

but it is not only that

he is dressed in traditional valyrian garb

otto hightower is not the only master of cunning in your family

you agree to be a witness and state calmly that if she is prepared to cement her choices then so are you

it's the first time she respects you

she's also grateful that you have gone to such levels to ensure her claim is protected

and so she gradually cares for you more and more

viserys on the other hand is outraged at your blatant disrespect which you throw back, regarding your own children with him

that you warm his bed despite what you may want yourself, that he never asks only summons her

and he's silent because for the first time someone is confronting other than his brother

because he didn't ask aemma either

he has been hailed for his need for peace and yet as he stands before you, it is not peace he has created it is secrecy and malice

he continues to argue weakly but when you refuse to spend the night in his chambers despite his calls and you do not arrive early to assist him in his ointments, he finds himself missing your gentle touch

you allow the children to eat at his side and arrive briefly where he practically ladens your plate himself but you're composed and collected and false

so instead of summoning you

he spends time with the children

he allows daemon to visit court, to not force his child into enduring flights just to see her husband

and eventually you summon him and he could not be more relieved

whether making up with him is because he has endeared you or strategic does not matter because your time becomes quickly occupied when rhaenyra falls pregnant with her first child

you coo at her swollen stomach and share any tips or guidances you are able and when she become irate you are there to provide her with the food of her cravings and anecdotes of embarrassing circumstances

daemon whether he likes it or not also becomes fond of you

you were the reason he could marry rhaenyra of course and he oddly likes your sharp tongue, especially when it is used against your father

so your sweet trio is admired and especially by viserys

the house of the dragon is united once more

you discuss with daemon one evening how you worry about what will come once rhaenyra's child is born and in the night he provides a strange comfort

he is a second son and his right to being heir was taken from him for a mere child instead and while he loves rhaenyra, he believes it was his birthright by order of law until seeing her arrival at dragonstone

the day everything changed and instead of a foolish princess he found a queen in the making

perhaps it is your motherly presence that cracks his shield but he finds himself spilling his hurt at viserys' continued rejection of him

you explain that you cannot reinstate his presence on the small council but he qucikly explains that is not what he meant

he wants a family as much as his brother does

and then it clicks

you will not stop a fight for power by sweet words and affirmations

you will influence your children's fondness for their sister

unite them strong

aegon will not want for a throne that he does not believe to be his and no amount of scheming can change that

so the bonding strategies ensue and surprisingly they work

aegon is beaming at the attention and little helaena is asking about syrax

but aemon is in the corner shyly so you coax him into his sister's presence

family dinners are mandatory

once jacaerys is born with or without silver hair, his aunt and uncles are fawning over the babe (though aegon still finds himself jealous of the attention from time to time)

[writeshite]

It was common secrecy that you and Daemon often spent nights tangled in each other's arms, a matter allowed only for the reason that it kept Daemon from enacting his roguish tendencies.

"No, no, no, I've already missed the morning—Daemon!" you shriek when his cold hands run along your skin. It's often a game between the two of you - Daemon, in search of warmth, would pounce and lay his freezing hands on your warm skin. "You would leave a prince of the realm on his deathbed?" he pouted, reaching out for you again.

You smacked his hands away, "When his hands are as cold as the North's ass? Yes, besides, I doubt Otto's going to be happy with how late I am."

"Your cousin…” he begins.

"Is an ass? I know Daemon; I grew up with him," you return to him briefly, placing a brief kiss on his lips; you dart away before he can trap you underneath him again.

[targayrenss]

Green Skin - Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Oc

pairing:Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen Oc

Content:🔞, Incest, Age-Gap,Angst

Author's Note:it's my first post here!,english is not my first language so don't be rude,this is just a little intro so don't forget to let me know how you liked it

••••

When Viserys married Alicent he thought she could give him his desired heir, but when the young woman gave birth to a girl who even had Valyrian features, Viserys decided that Rhaenyra would continue as his heir.

After Alysanne, Alicent had four more children, three of them boys, and yet her husband never changed her mind.

Rhaenyra would be queen one day and she will kill her and her children as soon as she takes the throne.

Otto Hightower would not give up, he continued to plan to usurp Rhaenyra and place Aegon on the iron throne without thinking of the consequences.

When Daemon decides to take Alysanne as his third wife, Otto saw it as one more advantage to his plan.

Not knowing that the old prince would manipulate the mind of her young wife, inciting her to usurp the throne for them and her children.

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝕽𝖊𝖇𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖎𝖔𝖚𝖘 𝕮𝖍𝖎𝖑𝖉

Part 2 here

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐇𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐕𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐬 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐝𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝. 𝐍𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐫.

ʜɪɢʜᴛᴏᴡᴇʀꜱ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ (ᴘʟᴀᴛᴏɴɪᴄ)

Tw: not much just reader not giving a fuck about nothing and has white hair and purple eyes. Mentions of drinking, brothels, taverns, Aegon in general. Otto being an ass, Alicent has about had it with her daughter. Cussing. 

Author’s note: I haven’t wrote anything in a while, and I’ve had this Idea since last night. I hope you like it, I’d like some feedback. Sorry that its short.

Ever since you were born, you were called the spare child, you no important duties like your siblings, no one paid no mind to you, you basically didn’t exists. So to pass your time you did whatever you wanted, when you had grown older you began to cause even more trouble. 

You would accompany Aegon to visit taverns or brothels, you only drank whatever liquor they had but never indulge in anything sexual. You honestly wish to marry with someone you love, but being a princess you knew that it will never happen.

When Aegon had cut his hair, you had also cut your hair but way shorter, since then you had short hair, it bothered your mother and she has scolded you for it since you did not act like a princess and now you don’t look like one, but did you care? Nope! Whatever she said had always gone from one ear out the other.

That day Sir Vaemond Velaryon had position the crown so that he could be the heir of Driftmark since his brother was still injured. Did you bother going? Nope! You had left to a tavern that had become your favorite for always having the strongest ales and other kinds of alcohol. You didn’t care if people spread rumors of you going to the taverns, you would actually prove them to be true. 

When you arrived back to the Red Keep a bit too tipsy, your mother was in your bedroom pissed, her face was as red as your dragon Bloodfyre. You giggled as you threw yourself on your bed.

“Where have you been!” she demanded as you then groaned and laid on your stomach and hugged your pillow “out, mother” you mumble as you began to slip into slumber but the she yanked you to her, smelling the Ale that was coting your body. “You were out drinking?” she asked you disappointed at you, causing you to laugh “yeah, they always have the best Ale, and don’t worry no one had taken my Maidenhead mother, you can check if you like” you said as she then let go of you. Falling to your bed making you laugh more.

“Seven Hells you are just like your brother, minus laying with anything that has two legs” she sounded frustrated, her child was almost a carbon copy of her eldest son. “Your father wants us all to have a family dinner, you have better be their or else!” The Queen said as she had then pulled out a green dress from your wardrobe and demanded your handmaiden to get you cleaned up. 

Once you were clean, your handmaiden tried to dress you in that green dress, but you didn’t allow her. You pulled out a long red dress that had allowed you to show off your chest and a bit of your torso, you also wore black body chains on your chest. This dress will probably cause your mother to faint. You were now ready and left to the dinner.

When you arrived, your mother and Grandsire had a modified look on their faces. Your mother would probably kill you later but you sat down between Aegon and Helaena, your sister had complemented “Y/n, you look beautiful” She said as your older brother Aemond took a seat next to her and Aegon sat next to you “no green?” he asked as you responded “no, the color green looks horrible, speacially on me” you said it loud enough for everyone to hear. You noticed how you Uncle Daemon laughed at what you said. Then your father arrived and you stood up like everyone.

Everything was fine until Aegon had offered his serves to your cousin causing our nephew to stand catching everyone attention. When Aegon went back to his seat, you then smacked him outside the head, your mother gave you a look while your Uncle and Father laughed. The dinner went on, Jace had asked your sister for a dance and she agreed. She looked happy which warmed your heart, mean while Aemond watched them while Aegon and you were secretly chatting about which taverns you should go later that night. 

Everything went down hill when a pig was placed in front of your brother. A brawl broke out, Aemond getting punched and your younger nephew getting slammed on the table by Aegon. They broke it off soon after the guards held the Velaryon boys and Daemon staring down at your brother. You took a sip from your wine then stood up “what a lovely family dinner” you said as you then sip your cup once more and tossed it on to the floor, leaving the dinning room to your chambers.

That night you and Aegon left to your usual tavern, you both were drinking the night away, not caring being spotted, once you arrived back home still in your red gown you threw yourself at your bed and dosed off. 

The next morning your mother had went into your room, seen that your were asleep she woke you. You groaned, already feeling the headache that you will have. “What is it now? I came home this time” you said as your mother spoke “Your father is dead” she said with a look of dispare. You looked at her as you sigh and looked at the ceiling.

“Well, Fuck”

[darkestspring]

Hightower Reader loves the sons of her niece Alicent and takes great care of them while Daemon and they get twins (because of the duty) and these are the best friends of Baelon II :)

hightower reader does her duty, of course she does but in my mind, she and daemon live separately. He goes off and does whatever he does and she stays with baelon ii and her twin babies in the red keep with her brother and niece, supporting them completely. the twins would absolutely follow around their mother and cousin around like little ducklings.

[hauntedfictionland]

You're serving cunt? There's a war going on and you're serving cunt?

Gif: @hoosbandewan, @peachysunrize

[ophelieverse]

when my girl talks,you listen to her!

[cherriecove]

A Courtship of Politics and Passion (Part 5)

Jacaerys Velaryon x Hightower!Reader

Summary: Cannon divergence, Rhaenyra Targaryen is queen after the Dance of The Dragons. In order to secure peace and ensure her son is able to take his rightful place on the throne after her she decides to make allies out of previous enemies. Cherrie's Note: Masterlist | Previous Part |

Their wedding had been nothing short of a spectacle, the likes of which the Red Keep hadn’t witnessed in years. The grand hall glittered with gold and crimson banners, bathed in the warm glow of countless candles. Lords and ladies from every corner of Westeros gathered to witness the union of House Targaryen and House Hightower. Their silver dragons and green towers hung side by side, a fragile symbol of peace after generations of bloodshed.

Queen Rhaenyra sat at the head of the hall, her face impassive as she watched her son, Jacaerys, take his vows. This marriage, her careful strategy, was more than a mere joining of two houses; it was a lifeline for a realm still reeling from civil war. Her son’s marriage to Y/N Hightower, a descendant of their greatest enemies, was a gamble—one that could either bring lasting peace or unravel everything she had fought for.

Jacaerys stood beside Y/N, reciting his vows with practised solemnity. Yet, even as he spoke the sacred words, his thoughts were scattered. The murmurs of the court had plagued him for weeks—whispers about his bride’s true loyalties, questions about whether the old grudges could ever truly be buried. He scanned the crowd, catching sight of both smiling faces and hidden frowns behind masks of feigned courtesy. Was this the beginning of peace, or merely a brief respite before more bloodshed?

Y/N, clad in a gown of shimmering silver and green, wore her duty well. She was poised, regal, every inch the noble bride expected of her. But beneath her composed exterior, she felt the weight of a thousand eyes. They were watching her closely, some hopeful for peace, others eager for her to slip and reveal her true allegiance. Could this marriage really heal the wounds between their families? Or would she forever be viewed as a foreigner, a Hightower in the den of dragons?

When the vows were spoken, and the Septon declared them husband and wife, the hall erupted in applause. The realm celebrated, but for the couple at the heart of it all, the true challenges were just beginning.

Later that evening, as the festivities carried on below—laughter, dancing, and toasts in their honour—Jacaerys and Y/N slipped away to a quiet balcony high above the bustling streets of King’s Landing. The cool night air was a welcome relief from the heat of the crowded hall. The sky stretched above them, dark and clear, the occasional silhouette of a dragon cutting through the stars.

Jacaerys leaned against the stone railing, his hand brushing lightly against Y/N’s, though his gaze remained fixed on the horizon. "Do you think this marriage will truly bring peace?" he asked, his voice quiet but filled with the weight of uncertainty. "Or have we merely delayed the inevitable?"

Y/N turned to him, her expression thoughtful. “I think it’s the only path forward,” she said softly. “But peace isn’t something that just happens with vows. We’ll have to fight for it. Every day.”

Before Jacaerys could respond, a distant commotion from the courtyard below caught their attention. Shouts, growing louder, broke the quiet of the evening. The flicker of torchlight illuminated a small crowd that had gathered, and two men—dressed in the colours of their respective houses—were at the centre of it. 

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed. “What now?” he muttered, already moving toward the source of the disturbance.

Y/N followed quickly, the skirts of her gown sweeping behind her as they descended into the courtyard. By the time they arrived, a small crowd of onlookers had gathered. The two men—minor nobles, likely too far into their cups—stood nose to nose, shouting over each other. The air was thick with tension, and it was clear the situation was moments away from turning violent.

“He insulted Lady Y/N!” the first man, clad in green, a distant cousin perhaps, his face red with anger. “Called her a traitor—said she should be sent back to Oldtown!”

The Targaryen soldier, just as enraged, barked back, “He threatened me first! Your kind should know their place—this is Targaryen land!”

Jacaerys strode forward, his voice cutting through the noise. “Enough!”

Both men turned to him, suddenly sober in the presence of the prince. The crowd fell silent, eyes wide as they watched the scene unfold.

“What is this?” Jacaerys demanded, his tone sharp and commanding. “This is a wedding, a celebration of peace. And yet here you are, ready to spill blood over petty words?”

Y/N stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “You disgrace yourselves and your houses with this behaviour,” she said, her gaze hardening as she looked between them. “We are here to unite, not to tear each other apart. If you cannot hold your tongues, perhaps you should leave.”

The men exchanged glances, their anger deflating under the weight of their prince and princess’s disapproval. Slowly, they bowed their heads, muttering apologies.

Jacaerys sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing as the crowd began to disperse. He turned to Y/N, shaking his head. “Even at our wedding feast, there are still those eager for conflict.”

She smiled, though there was a hint of weariness in her eyes. “It’s only the beginning, Jacaerys. We’ll face this again. And again. But we’ll face it together.”

Her words hung in the air, a quiet promise that resonated deeper than any vow spoken earlier that day. They stood there for a moment, watching as the last of the crowd melted back into the night.

Jacaerys turned to her, his expression softening. “You handled that well,” he said quietly, admiration lacing his words.

Y/N gave a small smile. “We’re going to have to handle a lot more than drunk nobles if we’re going to keep this peace.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against hers once more, though this time with intent. His gaze lingered on her, and for a moment, the weight of politics and expectation seemed to fade. “Then we’ll do it together,” he said, his voice softer now, almost intimate.

Her eyes met his, and in the stillness of the night, with the distant hum of the city beneath them, something shifted between them. It was no longer about the marriage their houses had demanded or the fragile peace they were trying to maintain. It was just them—two people standing at the edge of an uncertain future, bound by more than duty.

Y/N took a step closer, her breath catching as Jacaerys’s hand slid to the small of her back, pulling her gently toward him. “Together,” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she lifted her gaze to his.

Without another word, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss that was tender but filled with the promise of something more. It wasn’t just a kiss born of obligation or expectation—it was a quiet declaration that, whatever lay ahead, they would face it side by side.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting against one another, the world felt just a little bit smaller, the weight of their responsibilities just a little bit lighter.

Jacaerys smiled softly, his hand still on her back. “Come,” he said, his voice filled with warmth as he pulled away slightly, offering her his hand. “Let’s return to the feast.”

Y/N took his hand, allowing him to lead her back inside. As they re-entered the grand hall, the music and laughter of the celebration enveloped them once more. But this time, as they stepped onto the dance floor, the eyes of the court no longer felt like a burden. Instead, they danced together, not just as husband and wife, but as partners—ready to face whatever came next, together.

Taglist: @rafslytherin

[controld3vil]

the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole. 

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead. 

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle. 

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one. 

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification. 

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that. 

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts. 

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother. 

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding. 

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often. 

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper. 

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you. 

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes. 

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!” 

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.” 

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb. 

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially. 

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality. 

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob. 

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds. 

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?” 

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,” 

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy. 

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned. 

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier. 

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered. 

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you. 

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze. 

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage. 

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish. 

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are. 

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle. 

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential. 

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced. 

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies. 

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses. 

“Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship. 

“No,” 

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply. 

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying? 

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects. 

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,” 

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly. 

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.” 

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover. 

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen. 

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city. 

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another. 

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face. 

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king. 

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure.  You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this. 

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself. 

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire. 

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome. 

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.” 

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes. 

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you. 

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted bloodshed as much as him.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

one of alicents Brothers don't love otto much and know he can only cause problems. both him and rhaenyra feeling dissatisfied with their fathers, they get married and ruin ottos plans one by one. in this situation I can not see the reader hightower son being the one otto wants near the throne cause he would not be able to easily manipulate them. Headcanons and thanks for writing

hey anon! thank you so much for this ask i was really looking forward to writing it <3 i am really loving alicent's y/n brother rn

pronouns: he/him warnings: none other than parental issues that i can think of but please correct me if i'm wrong! A/N: i could barely stop myself writing im so obsessed lmao, the amount of errors i got from this

you were never one to indulge in your father's ambition as he paraded you after another won tourney and beckoned your sister as though she were not a Queen now and much higher in position than he would ever be

you rolled your eyes and huffed, folding your broad arms across your chest

you roam your stubborn eyes across the room as Otto attempts to entertain his fellow Lords and more importantly, ask about their daughters

your eyes widened when they caught sight of your father approaching with Lord Borros Baratheon, you ducked and began crawling under a series of tables hurriedly and regardless of how ungentlemanly it may seem, you turn your head quickly straight after peeking over your shoulder only for it to meet something hard and a yelp to sound from in front of you

your lips part in surprise as a silver head of hair comes into view, a porcelain hand flying to her forehead. The woman groans and you recognise that familiar voice. "What is wrong with you?" Rhaenyra Targaryen uttered with a huff and met your dark eyes with hers of violet. Your mouth gaped before you felt a hard hit to your shoulder, your brows pinched together. "What was that for?" You asked with a guttural groan. Her steel gaze remained. "You hit me first!" She threw back in a childish hiss. You scoffed. "Mine was an accident." You retorted only for her to drive her lips into a thin line and slump on the floor. "If I find that I am concussed, I will have yor head." Rhaenyra grumbled and you begrudgingly settled. Her eyes shot to yours.

"Move. I was here first." "No." She lets out a gruff chuckle in shock. "Excuse me?" "No." Her eyes narrow into slits at your defiance. "I am your future Queen." "Sorry." Your murmured and flushed pink. You looked down bashfully and picked at your rough fingernails. You turned oblivious as her eyes rolled across you inquisitively. She hesitated but her lips open quicker than she can think–not that that is unusual. "You are Y/n, aren't you? Not Gwayne, his jaw is wider." You snickered and nod. Her lips twitched upward without her consent. She leans on her left hand and smiles charming as she can manage. "I suppose I can allow you a sliver of my company since you are clearly so desperate for it." She grins playfully at your protesting lips and the way your body stiffens at the familiar shoes beneath the table. Her brows raise and she almost gives up her own hiding just to see the look on your face if she pushed you into his sight. Soon the feet retreated however and a breath of relief propelled out of your throat. Rhaenyra watches you carefully. You intrigue her infuriatingly enough. She nudged you with her knee enough to catch your eyes. "Why are you hiding?" You asked curiously "I could ask you the same thing." Your princess teased. "Ah then who am I to deny my future Queen?" She hates how her stomach twists in knots at the title passing your lips. Her breath hitches. "My father is..." You struggle to find the word, using your hands to gesture uselessly. "domineering?" It sounds more like a question and she briefly wonders whether she knows your father better than yourself.

that's the first time she has ever had a full conversation–or possibly one at all–with you but Rhaenyra doesn't regret it as she notes the stiffness of your brow and your unexpectedly soft voice

she finds herself listening to you intently until the night is over

she even forgets you're both supposed to be hiding and laughs boldly which results in a share of wide eyes as two pairs of rough hands haul you both out from under the table

your fathers have never looked more disappointed as you glance sheepishly at one another

you both are sent to your respective chambers but before you leave, her soft hand shoves a piece of parchment in your hand and smirks as you stare after her

your father blocks your gaze when he wrenches a grip on your neck and drives you back to your quarters

you open your palm to find the crumpled paper has her scribbled handwriting 'Meet me in my chambers', you grow a grin and obey like the obedient subject your dear father wishes you to be

you decide to take unorthodox methods to do so however and climb up the walls to her window, clutching to vines and stones alike

she almost thinks you're never going to come before your tumbling inside

she snickers and beams as she brings you through and like clockwork the cycle repeats in secret and neither of you are particularly good at hiding the budding relationship between you

until the dreaded year that her mother passes

she had seemed so excited and humoured as you beat her uncle's arse into the ground, wielding a sword to his neck unless he chose to yield and the princess' forever favour strapped to you securely

you couldn't bite back the smirk until your eyes settled on the missing figures

her brows furrowed and her gaze followed yours

you still remember how her body tensed and panic became summoned to her face

how she had bolted away

and the moment you found out how slowly the hand had told the King? Without haste or worry regarding the Queen? That was when you pledged the deepest loyalty to Rhaenyra, bending the knee before she was even pronounced heir

and she pledged herself back to you in a much different manner

and when she is announced heir, it is not your father you stand beside but rather the Velaryons

and so with every visit to her chambers you share new promises and old vows

it is difficult to juggle the romantic affection for your princess and the friendship with your siblings but you manage

one night you approach your father's chambers to request permission to begin courting but instead you hear something much darker

the lump in your throat largens and when your sister bursts through the doors with trembling fingers, you don't take any time to embrace her

with every planned visit to the King, you take her to Rhaenyra's chambers instead and personally escort her on her travels

it's a dutiful side to you that Rhaenyra has never seen to you before, you had always been as rambunctious and rebellious as she and yet so kind and soft when it came to Alicent

the both of you smirk at Otto when Viserys announces his engagement, you personally delight in the clench of Otto's fists

you can't call him your father anymore

not after that

it's late at night with Alicent asleep and strewn across you both when you interlace your fingers with her own and grin at her

"If I didn't know any better, I would think we were the most intelligent in the realm." you snicker and she raises her brows playfully. "Oh?" she asks and you hum mischievously. You nod and look down at Alicent's gentle face. "I think we should put our team to it's limits." She glances at you sceptically and agrees

and so the first of many occurrences begins

the first he attempts without any remorse; separating you and The Realm's Delight

first by steering potential matches at you and when that fails, he suggests an alliance with House Velaryon after Viserys' rejection of Laena who you have grown fast friends with

he insists upon allowing Laenor to at least court the princess and the King agrees quickly and desperate to repair old wounds

so again you devise a plan to diverge her suitor's attention and lucky for you your old friend Laenor Velaryon is also not pleased with the possible arrangement

however she needs a chance to catch his eye and you have the perfect plan

Your gaze roams her face as you cup her cheek, both of you laying in bed. Her soft skin, her soft eyes, sloped nose and plush lips. "If you grace me by your mere presence alone I will lay every flower at your feet," You start and her breath hitches. "but if you agreed to wed me then I will fight against the swords of a thousand just to secure your heart and if you wish it, your crown."

it is early in the morn when Rhaenyra is rushed into the throne room and sees you knelt before her father with your head bowed

and that's when she hears it, eyes snapping to her father's face

"This man wishes for your hand in marriage." Viserys announces, standing and watching her carefully. Your gaze flickers up at her and softens. It's not long before she swallows her pride and takes slow steps forward. Her hands engulf yours without a second thought.

Otto notices of course as you pull away from him

he decides to direct your sister's place instead, he begins his second beginning conquest; taming Daemon Targaryen and producing a Targaryen heir

reluctantly and uncharacteristically he acts in favour to the request of Daemon annulling his marriage to Lady Rhea. He may hate the man but he needs protection and a male Targaryen heir

Rhaenyra is still a woman and he knows that there will always be an uprising, if he can manage to coax Alicent once more into a Targaryen's embrace he will be able to succeed the throne with Hightower blood

lucky for you, you have an ally who is very keen to assist you

it seems that Laena Velaryon has held affections for the prince from afar and is happy to snatch his attention herself

it's at the engagement banquet that she makes her move Otto can do nothing but grit his teeth as he watches and whispers into Alicent's ear but she's slowly beginning to resent him and slip out of his grasp

it's not long before the wedding is being planned and Otto is growing more and more desperate

then Viserys' wife is announced to be pregnant and much to his luck it's a boy

perhaps his own children will not listen to him but what of this child? he may not be Hightower blood but that doesn't mean he cannot commend his intelligent advisor and future hand

he just needs to sneak into the child's head and gain his favour

a mentor if you will

he attempts to sabotage the wedding by encouraging his spies to seek out you both but any rumours they begin to spread are instantly shut down and discredited

Rhaenyra begins to take a stronger interest in her siblings and Alicent surprises everyone by joining the faith of The Seven

she has newly devoted herself to the faith as a Septa, away from the cursed childbed and dreaded expectation of her father

Otto takes advantage of this yet again however and insists with the King that your wedding to Rhaenyra be in a ceremony in the Sept but you have other plans, sneaking through passageways with your closest comrades and performing an intimate Valyrian ceremony in the dead of night

you brandish your wounded palm proudly before the court and revel in their shocked faces and whisperings

Otto turns red in the face and even more once he sees little Aegon and Helaena peek out from behind Rhaenyra's traditional garments

and when the many years pass and Viserys the peaceful is sent to a new realm, Rhaenyra glides down the large throne room with you, deja vu coursing through the air as you stand beside the Velaryons beaming at her

[wyvernest]

tf you mean "cregan was supposed to appear in the season finale and his scene was cut" give me my husband now

[update]

[heavenhatesme]

Alicent and Ser Crispy Cream having a righteous flirty session.

Meanwhile Gwayne Hightower:

[fl3shm4id3n]

𝕾𝖙𝖔𝖑𝖊𝖓 𝕿𝖍𝖗𝖔𝖓𝖊, 𝕾𝖍𝖆𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕱𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖑𝖞

Part 2 of Rebellious child

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐥���𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲, 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞? 𝐍𝐨𝐩𝐞, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴀᴇᴍᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴀʀɢᴀʀʏᴇɴ x ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: reader wishes she was burnt alive, also she’s a bit depressed, cussing, drinking, reader hates Alicent. reader gets slapped, but she slaps punches back, Targ!cest, angst

Author's note: I couldn't help it, I worked on this one after I posted the first one. I hope you like it :P

After you had found out that your father is dead, your brother went missing or he fled. Your mother said that your father wished for Aegon to be crowned king, you saw that as Bullshit, if he wanted Aegon to be heir then he should of made him heir. You had to inform Rhaenyra somehow, you may not chose good decisions before but today was the day you had to make the right decision. 

Some were sent search Aegon, the next day he’ll be crowned king, your brother did not want this but your mother’s greed was as bad like your grandsire's. The day had arrived and you were getting ready, you wore a black dress, never have you ever touched a green dress after you had become a grown woman. You hated the color green.

Your handmaiden’s were adding your jewelry, a pearl neckless with rubies and a pare of earrings that were gold with red rubies and pearls, this once belonged to Queen Visenya Targaryen, your father had gift them to you as a gift on your names day. Your mother had walked in, she was dressed for the occasion that’ll happen in an hour. “Why of all colors black?” she asked disappointedly, you rolled her eyes and dismissed your maidens. “I like the color black, way better than that green” you said as you looked at yourself in the mirror. 

The Queen looked at you, she wanted to argue but she just sighed and walked to you and held your hands into hers. “I know I haven’t been the best mother, but I just-” she stops and looks into your purple eyes. “Please, don’t disappoint me today, of all days” She said as you had a stoic look. You knew that no matter what you did to try and impress her, she’ll be disappointed. “I cannot promise anything” you said as your mother then pulled you into a hug. She hasn’t hugged you like this, even as a child she was never the affectionate with you, only with your oldest siblings. 

She pulled away and walked to the door but stop and looked back at you. “Y/n, I love you” she said with a small smile and left. You stood there as you watch her leave “sure you do, mother” you said as you sat back down and continued getting ready.

The ceremony began, you were standing next to Aemond and Helaena, she had an uncomfortable look, she looked very terrified. Aemond had his normal face and you were just out of it. Your head was hurting and now you were here making your headache worse. As your brother had come forward your family members bowed for him except you, you just stared at him with a numb look, now that the conqueror’s crown was on his head he was now king. People cheered for him, as he looked at the crowed he looked a bit conflicted, if he should accept it or not. 

Then he pulled the conqueror’s sword and lifted it up, making the crowed cheer even more. All of a sudden some form of explosion happened, the crowed now scream of terror and began to run to the exit. You could not see who it was until the smoke faded, seen princess Rheanys, The Queen that never was on top of the Red Queen, your brother stood protectively in front of your sister and your mother went to protect you brother, and you? No one came in front of you. Rhaenys glared at both the Queen and now King, all she had to do was say the word and they’d burn, you closed your eyes, ready to feel the heat of the flames but now, only a loud roar was released to them, shameful, the she flew out. 

After that ceremony that night the Queen had ordered more guards to watch over King Aegon, you could not say his name with King in front of it, it felt wrong. You were getting ready to go to the tavern by yourself until you saw your mother come in. “Are you leaving?” she asked you as you had finish tying your boots, you normally dress like a boy to hide your identity at this point. “What does it look like I’m doing? Yes, I stayed like you said, hopefully you weren’t disappointed at the time, so be disappointed now” you said fetching your clock but she stopped you.

“Before you go, I’d like to talk with you” The Queen said pulling you  down to take a seat. “What is it now?” you asked, your mother took a deep breath and spoke “tonight, will be the last night you’ll be going out. Now you have a duty to get married to an alliance to secure your brother’s claim” she said, this caused you to laugh hysterically. “More like a stolen claim” you said as she spoke “I’m being serious! I let you do as you please but now you must perform your duty as a princess!” she is now frustrated. “Oh! So now you have use of me, you could of married me a while ago but you chose not to, how is it that my brother can do as he pleases but when it comes to me its bad, hm?” you asked your mother was now conflicted.

“Because he is a man, and you are not, he is now King” she said as you stood up and grabbed your clock. “He did not want this, but you forced him to do it, all for listening to father who was not in the right state. He was always out of everything for bring under the influence of the milk of the poppy.” You said bitterly as your mother looked at you worriedly. “You can do as you please, you can continue to use your own children for your own benefit along with the Hand. Its obvious that all this was his doing and you are going along with it.” You walked towards the door but stopped. “I am ashamed, of being your daughter Alicent Hightower, you were never a good mother or Queen, have a good night Alicent” you said closing the door.

You had arrived at the tavern, drinking away your sorrows or whatever. Today was a roller coaster of emotions. Your brother became King, your family had committed treason, you no longer will address Alicent as mother, a dog is a better mother than her. You didn’t go back to the Red keep, you stayed at an Inn that night, you did not want to go face to face with those traitorous cunts.

The next morning you were waken, by non other than your older brother Aemond, he was sent out to get you and bring you back. Once you were taken back to the Red Keep, you were bathed and dressed in a disgusting green dress, but the you had purposefully dirtied the gown and wore a red gown.

You were in you bed chambers drinking your wine then your Mother, or should I say Alicent and Otto entered. “It seems that you are back Granddaughter” he said as you looked at him “what can I do for you Lord Hand?” you asked snakingly and took another sip of your wine. Then Otto slapped the cup from your hand and you pouted “I was drinking that! How rude” you said as his face was now red.

“Listen child, you had done whatever you wanted for the last couple years, enough of this foolish behavior, you are to perform your duty and that is final!” He said as you looked up at him, he noticed how you had red under your eyes like his Grandson Aegon. “And If I don’t? Then what?” you said as you then felt a sharp pain on your cheek, Otto had slapped you across the face, but you will not let it slide, you balled your hand into a feast and punched him square on the nose. Causing him to stumble back and he held his nose, you had broken it seen the blood pouring down it. “Y/n!!” Alicent shouted as she went to console her father. “You will not put your filthy hands of me again, next time that you do, I’ll rip your fucking face off!” you shouted as they left your room in search of a maester.

Later that night the family had gathered in the dinning room. Aegon was laughing at Otto who had a bandaged nose. Helaena was in her little world, Alicent looked disappointed at you, by now you were used to that look, and Aemond was seated next to you. You weren’t eating much, you were busy picking at your nails and just drowning yourself in wine. Aegon was now drunk like always, he’d get that drunk when going to the tavern with you, but he had stopped since he had bigger duties to attended.  Alicent and Otto talked about which houses they should ask for their alliances.

Shortly after everyone began to leave to bed, but you were going out again, as you walked down the halls you spotted Aemond their with a cloak on. “Aemond? What are you doing? Don’t tell me you’re going to tell Alicent?” you asked with a fake pout, your brother had always been a Mommy’s boy, for sure he’d tell on you. “No, I won’t tell mother, I’ll go with you.” He said “What? You? Come with me? You must be on something?” you said as he smiled “no, I do wish to go with you” He said once again “alright, don’t think I go into brothels for a fuck, thats all Aegon, I just drink” you said as you both left.

The two of you were at the Tavern, drinking your Ale while Aemond watch you drown in it. Drinking was what made you happy, you’d forget about being a princess and the disappointment of the family. “You know, Alicent never loved me” you said catching your brother’s attention. “our Mother does love you, Y/n” he said as you shook your head and talked “no, she doesn’t, all she loves is power, us, her children are only pawns for her to use, and now I am her victim to play with” you said sipping your ale.

Aemond watched you, slowly killing yourself with Ale, he hated seeing you like this, you were like Aegon but you didn’t lay with anyone, you just drank and drank to forget. If only his mother had betrothed you and him, he’d make sure you felt loved, he would of given you the world, but no, he watched you drink, one of this days you might be found dead alone in this tavern, the cause of death being alcohol.

You then fell asleep, Aemond took you back to the Red Keep, he had asked for your handmaiden to dress you properly to bed, Aemond will have a talk with his mother tomorrow.

That morning Aemond approached his mother. “Mother, may I have a word with you?” he asked the Queen who had looked up at him from the book she was reading “yes my love, what is it?” she closed the book and allowed him to sit next to her. “Its about my sister, Y/n. I wish to wed her.” he said, Alicent then grew worried “Aemond, I can’t, she is to wed someone who will stand by us, you'll also have t-” she was cut off by Aemond “you know she will not allow it, she’d do whatever to not wed” he said as the Queen was now conflicted. “I don’t know Aemond, she is out of control, she needs to perform her duty” she said making her son get up. “All this years, I’ve never asked for anything, this is the only thing that I ask- no I demand we wed one another, please mother, let us wed.” He now practically begged, but he noticed how she would refuse again but then he spoke darkly “If I don’t wed her, I’ll take her and take Vhagar to Dragonstone and be by Rhaenyra’s side, I'm sure you would not want that would you?” he threatened. Alicent saw the look of anger in his eyes, he has never spoken to her in that way ever, but she needed him, his dragon to take down the blacks. “Fine, you’ll be wed as soon as possible” she said as Aemond approached her and pulled her into a hug. “Thanks mother” she had hugged him back, a bit shaken by his demand but she agreed to this.