#his firm and confident grip on Aegon

[bietrofastimoff23]

sorry, but Сriston is such a mama bear here:

i mean...

I just can't get rid of this association...

[targaryen-dynasty]

Congrats on 2k!!! LOVEEEEE 💞 I WAS SO INDECISIVE OF WHAT I WANTED but I finally chose meleys

Can I get Aegon II with the prompt #87 “wanna fuck?”

This screams him fr.

TIPPING POINT.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and intoxication

WORDS: 792

NOTES: Tysm, Mae!! This request was amazing, and it's so on point for him. 😭

Let's celebrate my milestone!

It’s the fifth jello shot you’re drowning with Helaena, the frat party around you in full throttle, and even before you’ve swallowed it down, you feel your inhibitions sinking lower and lower. What certainly doesn’t help is the skimpy, black dress you’re wearing, hugging your curves so well, it’s taken your confidence sky high. 

Helaena has left the dancefloor a few minutes ago to stalk off with none other than Jace Velaryon, the quarterback of Westeros’ greatest football team, the King’s Landing Commanders. It’s widely rumored he’s the owner of the teams largest packet, so you don’t begrudge her that she’s left you alone. She’s certainly earned herself a good fuck for the night. 

Swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, though it’s not exactly the kind of music you usually listen to, the state of your tipsiness gets you off-balance for a moment, prompting you to take a step back to steady yourself, and bump into something very firm. 

“Easy there,” the gruff voice rings out, and knowing who it belongs to, you turn on your heels with a teasing grin. 

“Aeg,” you reply, meeting his eyes. 

He’s Helaena’s older brother, and ever since he’s switched teams to join the Oldtown Saints, people rarely see him around. It’s clear that his presence somewhat catches you by surprise. There hasn't been anything happening between the two of you, however, it has been more than dangerously close at more than one of Alicent Targaryen’s famous family dinners. 

His hand trails to your back, and he uses that grip to pull you against his side. You’re forced to hold onto him to steady yourself, but you don’t really mind. He’s charming, easy on the eyes, and there’s certainly worse company lingering around at the party. Jason Lannister, for example. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, his eyes flitting down to take in your body. His Adam's apple bobs slightly as he lets them linger on your exposed thighs, taking in the short skirt. 

You bring a hand to his chest, and turn yourself in his grasp so your body faces him now. “Enjoying myself?” you purr, licking your lips. “I always do when I have such fine company.” 

Aegon grins at your words, his eyes taking over a hooded look that has you squeeze your thighs for a moment. 

He dips his head forwards, bringing his lips on a level with your ears, the proximity allowing him to take in your scent and let his warm breath caress your skin. “Oh, is that so?” It feels as if his voice has become ten times huskier after your words, a thrill of arousal flickering up your spine. “Well, that makes two of us.”

You lick your lips yet again, and tilt your head forwards. You’re batting your eyelashes at him when you speak, the flirting game you’re playing is all too obvious now. “Good answer,” you muses, grinning mischievously. 

The tension between you two is thick enough to be cut with a knife, and you figure that with Hel away somewhere probably getting dicked down, you’re more than allowed to have some fun yourself. After all, she knows that there was a time you’ve lusted after Aegon. 

“I’m glad you’re so easily pleased,” he teases. It’s clear he’s noticed your attraction towards him, and even though his jab at your susceptible manner should make you feel slightly embarrassed, you can’t bring yourself to care; not when his scent and the warmth emanating off him makes your mind hazy with lust. 

He has his signature smirk splayed over his pouty lips, the one that sputters with cockiness and always has you biting your lips. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, and you giggle softly when you feel his hand squeezing your side, and it works to bring you closer towards him, pressing against him to escape the pinch of his fingers. 

Aegon scoffs, and with his head tilted forwards and his hooded, lilac eyes lingering on your lips, it’s his voice ringing out again. “Wanna fuck, sweetheart?” 

It’s as blunt as it can get, yet that’s exactly what you want. “God, yes,” you chuckle. “Two more minutes without you asking, and I would have jumped your bones right here and then.”

“Now, that’s what I call an enthusiastic answer,” he teases. “I know a spot.”

Your side is squeezed once again by him, before he intertwines your fingers and leads you through the crowd to the rooms upstairs. As far as you know, he doesn’t know any of the people belonging to the frat that hosts this party, yet you wouldn’t even care if he’d fuck you out in the open as long as it would give you what you want. Him. 

Small Taglist: @heimtathurs @valeskafics @black-dread @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @hypocritic-trash-baby @connorsui @moonlightfoxx @snowystark @fan-goddess @lovelykhaleesiii

[novaursa]

Flames in the West (a proud lion)

- Summary: During the royal hunt in honor of Aegon's second nameday, you insult a lion and gain his attention.

- Paring: targ!reader/Jason Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: a marriage and a lannister

- Next part: fatherhood

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

The birthing chamber was a whirlwind of chaos and anticipation, lit by the flickering glow of dozens of candles. Servants bustled about, carrying hot water, linens, and soothing herbs while Grand Maester Mellos stood at the center of it all, his hands moving deftly as he prepared for the task at hand. The air was thick with the scents of lavender and chamomile, meant to calm the nerves—though they did little to soothe the storm brewing in the corner.

Jason Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock, was pacing like a caged lion, barking orders at anyone who dared to cross his path. His doublet was wrinkled, his perfectly coiffed hair slightly disheveled, and his usual air of confidence replaced with frantic energy.

“You there!” Jason pointed at a servant carrying a basin of water. “Make sure that’s warm enough. If it’s not, I’ll have your head!”

The servant, wide-eyed, scurried away, nearly tripping over his own feet.

“Jason!” you snapped from the bed, your voice strained but sharp. “For the love of the gods, sit down or get out!”

Jason froze mid-step, his green eyes snapping to yours. “I’m not leaving you! What kind of husband abandons his wife in her time of need?”

“A sane one,” you shot back, clutching the sheets as another contraction gripped you. “You’re not helping, Jason!”

Mellos, who had been remarkably patient up to this point, finally turned to Jason with a look of exasperation. “My lord,” the elderly maester said, his tone measured but firm, “if you cannot compose yourself, I must insist that you step outside.”

Jason rounded on him, his expression incredulous. “Step outside? Do you have any idea who I am?”

Mellos sighed deeply, as though summoning the patience of the gods themselves. “Yes, my lord. You are the husband of the lady giving birth. Which is precisely why I suggest you allow us to do our work without interference.”

Jason scoffed, crossing his arms. “Interference? I’m ensuring everything is perfect!”

“You’re ensuring chaos,” Mellos muttered under his breath before turning back to his work.

Determined to prove his usefulness, Jason grabbed a nearby servant by the arm. “Bring more towels! And wine! She needs wine!”

“No, she doesn’t!” Mellos barked, clearly at the end of his rope. “What she needs is quiet and calm. Neither of which you are providing, my lord.”

Jason threw up his hands. “Fine! What do you suggest I do, Maester?”

“Sit,” Mellos said, pointing to a chair in the corner. “And do not move unless summoned.”

Jason hesitated, glancing between the maester, you, and the chair. Finally, he muttered something under his breath and slumped into the seat, looking like a lion forced into a kennel.

The anxiety in the room mounted as your contractions grew closer together. You gritted your teeth, clutching the sheets as pain rippled through your body. Rhaenyra, who had arrived moments earlier, sat by your side, holding your hand and murmuring words of encouragement.

“You’re doing wonderfully,” she said softly, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead. “Almost there.”

Jason, watching from his corner, looked as though he might faint. “She’s in pain! Can’t you do something?”

“It’s childbirth, Jason,” you growled, your voice thick with sarcasm. “Pain is part of the process.”

Mellos, for his part, ignored Jason entirely, his focus on the task at hand. “Steady breaths, princess. The child is crowning.”

Jason leapt to his feet. “Crowning? What does that mean? Is everything alright?”

Mellos glared at him. “Sit. Down.”

Jason sat, muttering under his breath about maesters and their lack of bedside manners.

Finally, with one last push, the cries of a newborn filled the room. Relief washed over you as Mellos lifted the baby, his wrinkled face breaking into a rare smile.

“A boy,” he announced, wrapping the child in a soft blanket. “A strong, healthy boy.”

Jason shot out of his chair, his earlier panic replaced with unbridled joy. “A boy? A son? By the gods, I have an heir!”

He practically tripped over himself as he rushed to your side, his eyes shining with pride. “Y/N, did you hear that? A son! You’ve given me a son!”

You, utterly exhausted but smiling faintly, turned to him with a dry tone. “Yes, Jason. I was here.”

Mellos handed the baby to you, and you cradled him gently, marveling at the tiny bundle in your arms. Jason leaned over, his grin so wide it seemed to light up the room.

“He’s perfect,” Jason said, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it.

“He is,” you agreed, your earlier irritation melting away as you gazed at your son.

Jason straightened, turning to the room with a triumphant expression. “Let it be known! The Lannisters have a new lion! A boy strong enough to rival any in the realm!”

“Jason,” you murmured, your tone warning.

He blinked, looking sheepish. “Yes, my love?”

“Sit down and let me hold him,” you said, your voice gentle but firm.

Jason obeyed immediately, sinking into the chair beside you with a look of pure adoration. For the first time that evening, the room was quiet, save for the soft sounds of your son’s breathing.

The chaos in the birthing chamber hadn’t entirely subsided. Servants still scurried about, gathering discarded linens, refilling basins, and trying to dodge Jason’s animated gestures as he stood near the bed, holding his newborn son for the first time. The room was alive with the sounds of muffled laughter, quiet congratulations, and the occasional sharp instruction from Grand Maester Mellos, who was still fussing with his instruments.

Jason stood in the middle of it all, his golden hair slightly disheveled, his cheeks flushed, and his grin wide enough to rival the crescent moon outside. In his arms, the tiny bundle squirmed, letting out soft little cries that melted everyone’s hearts—except perhaps Mellos’s, who muttered something about "noisy little lions" under his breath.

“Look at him!” Jason declared, holding the baby up as though presenting him to the gods themselves. “He’s perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

You, propped up in bed with a damp cloth on your forehead, gave him a tired but affectionate smile. “I had a little something to do with that, you know.”

Jason turned to you, his grin somehow widening. “Of course, my love. You were incredible. But look at him! He’s strong, healthy, and already more handsome than half the men in the kingdom.”

“Jason,” Rhaenyra interjected from her seat near the hearth, where she was enjoying the show with poorly concealed amusement, “he’s a few minutes old. Let him grow into his looks.”

Jason ignored her, his focus entirely on the tiny face peeking out from the blanket. “He needs a name,” he announced, his tone suddenly serious. “A name worthy of a lion and a dragon.”

You groaned softly, leaning back against the pillows. “Jason, if you name him something absurd, I swear—”

“I won’t!” Jason cut in quickly, shifting his son gently in his arms. “I’ve thought about this. A lot.”

The room fell silent, save for the soft crackle of the fire and the occasional coo from the baby. Jason looked down at his son, his expression uncharacteristically tender.

“Lorien,” he said finally, his voice steady. “Lorien Lannister.”

You blinked, momentarily caught off guard. It was… a good name. Strong, regal, and free of Jason’s usual flair for the ridiculous. Even Rhaenyra looked mildly impressed, nodding her approval.

“Lorien,” you repeated softly, the name rolling easily off your tongue. “It’s… perfect.”

Jason beamed, his pride swelling visibly. “Of course it is. He’s my son, after all.”

Jason continued to cradle Lorien, swaying slightly as if already imagining the boy’s future as a knight, lord, or perhaps even king. The room was finally starting to quiet when he turned to you, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“You know,” he began, his tone casual but far too eager, “he’s so perfect, I think we should have ten more.”

The room, which had been on the brink of tranquility, erupted once more. Rhaenyra choked on her wine, and a servant tripped over a basin, nearly dropping its contents. Even Mellos, who had been muttering about needing more hot water, paused mid-step to gape at Jason.

You, however, stared at your husband with an expression that could have stopped a charging dragon. “Ten more?” you repeated, your voice dangerously calm.

Jason, oblivious to the danger, nodded enthusiastically. “At least! A whole pride of little lions running through Casterly Rock. Can’t you see it?”

Without breaking eye contact, you grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it at him with surprising precision for someone who had just endured hours of labor. The pillow hit Jason squarely in the chest, startling him into silence as the room erupted into laughter.

“Jason,” you said, your tone as sharp as Valyrian steel, “if you so much as look at me with that idea in mind before I’ve fully recovered, I will let Sylveris handle you.”

Jason blinked, looking genuinely contrite for all of three seconds before his grin returned. “Fair enough. But admit it, you’d make an excellent mother to a dozen lions.”

Rhaenyra, still laughing, raised her goblet in mock salute. “To Jason Lannister, the man brave enough—or foolish enough—to suggest ten more children after one night.”

Jason turned to her, his grin unabated. “You laugh now, but just wait. Lorien will need brothers and sisters.”

You sighed, sinking back against the pillows with a mix of exasperation and affection. “Jason, just sit down and hold your son quietly before I throw something heavier than a pillow.”

He obeyed, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed with Lorien nestled in his arms. The chaos of the room gradually began to settle as the fire crackled softly, and for a brief moment, there was peace.

“Ten more,” you muttered under your breath, shaking your head. “What was I thinking marrying you?”

Jason leaned closer, his grin softening into something more genuine. “You were thinking you couldn’t resist me.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the faint smile tugging at your lips. “And yet, here we are.”

Jason looked down at Lorien, his expression full of wonder. “Here we are,” he echoed softly. “A family.”

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was still alive with music, laughter, and the clinking of goblets as the wedding feast of Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon continued. Lords and ladies danced, drank, and gossiped, oblivious to the events that had unfolded in the birthing chamber only moments ago. That changed the instant Jason Lannister burst through the grand doors, his hair slightly disheveled and his attire still bearing faint wrinkles from the evening’s chaos.

He strode in like a triumphant conqueror, his grin wide enough to rival the crescent moon hanging over the keep. All eyes turned toward him, the music faltering for just a moment as whispers rippled through the crowd.

Rhaenyra followed closely behind, her expression composed but her eyes dancing with amusement. She moved to join Laenor at their table, allowing Jason the full attention he so clearly sought.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Jason bellowed, raising both arms as though addressing a court of admirers. “Lords and ladies of Westeros, I have an announcement!”

The hall fell silent, every head turning toward him. At the Lannister table, Martyn leaned toward a cousin, muttering, “Here we go.”

Jason strode forward, taking his place near the center of the room where the light of the chandeliers cast a golden glow over his already glowing figure. “Tonight, on this most auspicious of evenings, the gods have blessed House Lannister with a new lion!”

Cheers erupted, though a few chuckles slipped through as well. King Viserys, seated at the royal table, stood with a wide grin, raising his goblet high.

“By the Seven, Jason, you’ve made me a grandsire!” Viserys exclaimed, his voice booming with joy. “A toast! To my daughter, to Jason, and to the newest member of our family!”

The hall erupted into applause and raised goblets, and Jason beamed, soaking in the moment.

Jason made his way to the Lannister table, where his family had already begun celebrating anew. Martyn was the first to greet him, standing and clapping him on the back with a grin.

“Congratulations, Jason,” Martyn said, his tone amused. “Though I must say, I’m surprised you made it back here in one piece. You looked ready to faint earlier.”

Jason waved him off with a laugh, grabbing a goblet of wine from a passing servant. “Faint? Me? Never. I was composed as ever.”

“Of course you were,” Martyn said, smirking. “We all saw how composed you were when you tried to order Mellos around.”

The table erupted into laughter, and Jason, to his credit, laughed along. “I simply wanted to ensure everything was perfect for my wife and son.”

“Tell us, Jason,” one of the cousins chimed in, leaning forward eagerly. “What’s the boy’s name?”

Jason straightened, his grin widening as he raised his goblet. “Lorien Lannister. A name worthy of a lion.”

The Lannister table erupted into cheers, their golden goblets clinking together as they toasted to the newest member of their house. Martyn leaned back, raising an eyebrow. “Lorien. A fine name. I’m impressed, Jason. I half-expected you to name him ‘Goldenmane’ or something equally ridiculous.”

Jason smirked, taking a long sip of his wine. “Give me some credit, cousin. Even I know when to restrain myself.”

At the royal table, Viserys was still glowing with pride. He turned to Rhaenyra, who had returned to her seat beside Laenor, and beamed. “A grandson born on the night of your wedding, Rhaenyra! The gods have truly smiled upon us.”

Rhaenyra smiled, though there was a hint of mischief in her eyes. “Jason certainly made sure everyone knew about it, didn’t he?”

Laenor chuckled, leaning in. “I half-expected him to bring the child to the feast.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him,” Rhaenyra replied, smirking. “But I convinced him to let Y/N and the baby rest.”

Viserys raised his goblet again, his voice carrying over the crowd. “To my daughters, and to the strength of our family!”

The hall erupted into another round of cheers, the joyous energy filling every corner.

Jason, now thoroughly enjoying the attention, made his way back to the center of the hall, where a few lords and ladies had gathered to offer their congratulations.

“Lord Jason,” Lord Jasper Wylde said with a rare smile, “a fine addition to your house. My compliments.”

“Thank you, Lord Jasper,” Jason replied, clapping the older man on the back with perhaps a bit too much enthusiasm. “And don’t worry—I’ll be sure to teach him how to properly debate the merits of lions versus stags.”

The group laughed, though Lord Jasper’s smile grew a bit strained. Jason, oblivious, turned his attention to another lord.

“And you, my lord,” Jason said, gesturing broadly. “Did I not tell you earlier that tonight would be unforgettable?”

“You certainly delivered, Lord Jason,” the man replied, grinning. “Though I suspect your wife did most of the work.”

Jason laughed, raising his goblet. “True enough! And for that, she has my eternal gratitude.”

As the music resumed and the dancing recommenced, the mood in the hall was brighter than ever. The Lannister table remained the liveliest, their laughter and toasts carrying well into the night. Jason, ever the center of attention, moved between groups of lords and ladies, sharing stories of the birth as though he had done all the work himself.

Meanwhile, at the royal table, Rhaenyra leaned toward Laenor with a smirk. “I think Jason’s enjoying this more than he enjoyed his own wedding.”

Laenor chuckled, raising his goblet. “Let him have his moment. It’s not every day you become a father.”

As the feast wore on, it became clear that Jason’s announcement had added an extra spark to an already joyous evening. And though the chaos of the day would be remembered for years to come, one thing was certain: House Lannister had made its mark once again, roaring louder than ever in the halls of the Red Keep.

The Great Hall of the Red Keep had finally begun to quiet, the music softening as the festivities wound down. Servants moved about, clearing goblets and half-eaten plates as lords and ladies trickled out to their chambers, some walking steadily, others wobbling slightly from the wine. At the Lannister table, Jason sat with a goblet in hand, his hair still slightly mussed from the earlier chaos, his face flushed with wine and triumph.

Beside him, Tyland leaned back in his chair, watching his twin with a mix of amusement and curiosity. “So,” Tyland began, swirling the last of his wine in his goblet, “are you planning to stay in the capital until Y/N recovers?”

Jason straightened, his face lighting up. “Of course! My wife and son need me. I can’t just leave them here.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow. “You’ve been in the capital for barely a day and have already managed to disrupt a royal wedding and the Red Keep’s sense of normalcy. Don’t you think your… enthusiasm might be a bit much for this place?”

Jason waved a hand dismissively, grinning. “Nonsense. The capital loves me. Did you hear the cheers when I announced Lorien’s birth? They couldn’t get enough of me.”

“That wasn’t cheering, Jason,” Tyland deadpanned. “That was laughter.”

Jason ignored the jab, leaning forward with a conspiratorial grin. “Besides, it’s not just about me. This is a family moment. I want to be there for Y/N and Lorien—make sure they’re both comfortable and well cared for.”

“Let me guess,” Tyland said, smirking. “You’ve already started planning a grand presentation of your son to the court.”

Jason’s grin widened. “I was thinking something involving a lion cub. Symbolism, you know?”

Tyland groaned, rubbing his temples. “Jason, please, for the love of the gods, don’t.”

As the hall grew quieter, Jason downed the last of his wine and rose to his feet, straightening his slightly wrinkled doublet. “Well, I’ve enjoyed the feast, but I must take my leave.”

Tyland raised an eyebrow, watching his twin adjust his collar with far too much flair. “Leaving so soon? You’re usually the last one standing.”

Jason smirked, his tone exaggeratedly solemn. “As much as I’d love to continue basking in the admiration of my peers, duty calls. My wife and son need me.”

“Duty?” Tyland echoed, his tone incredulous. “Jason, you were practically dragged out of the birthing chamber earlier. Is this the same ‘duty’ that had you yelling at Mellos to ‘hurry up’?”

Jason shot his twin a mock glare. “It’s called leadership, Tyland. Someone had to take charge.”

“Of course,” Tyland said, smirking. “And yet Mellos managed just fine without you.”

Jason ignored him, turning to address the remaining Lannisters at the table. “Lords, ladies, it’s been a pleasure, but I must return to my family. My presence is required.”

Martyn, seated nearby, snorted into his goblet. “Required for what? Holding the baby while Y/N glares at you for keeping her awake?”

Jason pointed at him with a grin. “Exactly. And I do it with style.”

As Jason strode out of the Great Hall, his steps were quick and purposeful, though he couldn’t resist pausing to accept a few lingering congratulations from passing lords and ladies. By the time he reached the corridor leading to your chambers, his earlier bravado had softened into something quieter. He hesitated for a moment outside the door, adjusting his doublet one last time before pushing it open.

Inside, the room was calm and warm, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. You were in bed, your face serene as you cradled Lorien in your arms. The sight made Jason pause, his usual theatrics melting away as he stepped closer.

“How are you two?” he asked softly, his voice uncharacteristically gentle.

You looked up, a small smile tugging at your lips. “We’re fine. Though I’m not sure I can say the same for the servants you terrorized earlier.”

Jason chuckled, leaning down to kiss your forehead. “They’ll survive. My focus is here now.”

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, his golden eyes soft as they met yours. “I made an announcement at the feast,” he said, a hint of his usual grin returning.

“I heard,” you replied, raising an eyebrow. “How much wine did you drink before declaring yourself the kingdom’s proudest father?”

“Not enough to forget this moment,” Jason said, reaching out to gently brush a finger against Lorien’s tiny hand. “He’s perfect, Y/N. Just like you.”

For once, you didn’t roll your eyes or tease him. Instead, you rested your head against his shoulder, the chaos of the day fading into a quiet, shared joy.

And for Jason, the proudest lion of all, nothing else in the world mattered.

[crownedtargaryen]

and lust. aegon x reader

MASTERLIST pairing: aegon x reader (a/n): i’ve gifted an aegon angst drabble to you all today (thanks to @asa-do-your-thing for picking which piece gets posted today and proof reading for me!) CW: ANGST, broken family, mentions of cheating, mild manipulation all notes are appreciated. words: 1.5k tag list: @howyouloveyourdragon @hopelesswritergall @asa-do-your-thing @its-actually-minicika @clairacassidy @lovelykhaleesiii @arcielee

Aegon Targaryen has a reputation for being a selfish and cruel ruler. However, his spouse is helping him stay focused on his duties. Despite this, being around the dragon is not enjoyable for her. In the past, she had a romantic relationship with Prince Aemond, but now she is obliged to be with her drunken partner sitting next to her.

Aegon admits that he finds her desirable and wants to change for her. As his wife, she has put in a lot of effort, including bearing their children from loveless sexual relations. Their sons have grown into beautiful and strong men, each different from their father. Aegon loves his boys dearly, and she has grown to love Aegon as he has made an effort to be a good father, despite his own mother's shortcomings.

As I entered Rhaemond's chambers, I saw my husband sitting with our teenage son and two younger sons. They were all staring at an egg placed within the fire in front of them. Rhaemond noticed my arrival and quickly stood up, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Mother, mother!" exclaimed my son, his voice filled with joy and excitement. The other boys turned to look at him, their faces lighting up with anticipation. "Father is helping me watch my egg before bedtime! Come see!" he urged, tugging at my hand eagerly. I couldn't help but laugh at his enthusiasm and followed him to where he sat down next to the fire, his eyes fixed on the bright white egg nestled in the flames.

As I sat down beside him, I couldn't help but admire the sight. My husband, Aegon, had Hael cuddled up sleepily in his lap, his eyes closed as he snuggled into his father's embrace. Vaenor, our eldest son, sat next to me with a more contemplative and serious expression on his face, but his love for his family was clear as he smiled at me warmly.

We sat there in silence, the only sounds coming from the crackling of the fire and the soft breathing of my family. Vaenor and Rhaemond rested their heads on my arms, their bodies exhausted from the day's activities but happy to be with their entire family. It was rare for us to have the opportunity to spend quality time together, as Aegon's responsibilities as king often kept him away from home.

I looked over at my husband, who was staring at Hael lovingly as he petted his son's head. The curly tuft of white hair on Hael's head flattened with each careful stroke, and Aegon looked up at me with a smile, his eyes filled with love and contentment. It was moments like this that made all of the hardships of ruling a kingdom worth it.

With the help of Vaenor, I am able to lift my son Rhaemond from the floor and place him gently on the bed next to his brother Hael. Aegon, my husband, kisses each of the boys on their heads before turning to Vaenor and giving him a pat on the shoulder, followed by a tender kiss on his forehead. His kind gesture is a testament to the bond they share. As Aegon slowly leaves the room, I remain standing there, feeling a mix of emotions. It's then that Vaenor grabs my wrist, his grip firm but gentle, and pulls me towards him, urging me to look into his eyes. Despite everything that has happened, my son's unwavering strength and resilience never cease to amaze me.

In a hushed tone, the young man leaned in towards me and spoke softly, his words carrying a weight of concern. "Mother, I've been hearing some unsettling things about Father," he confided. Intrigued, I inquired further, and he nestled his head into my hand with a contented sigh. Leaning in closer to catch every word, I gently cupped his cheek, causing his deep purple eyes to widen in surprise. His lips quivered slightly as he continued to murmur under his breath, revealing the depth of his worries.

"He's been bedding whores," he croaks out, making me cringe. Vaenor's eyes lock onto mind, sympathy and love in his gaze. I feel my heart ache as I nod in response to his concerns, moving in and gently kissing his cheek. Vaenor's expression grows to one of confusion at my calm response to his worries.

"I'm aware," I murmur weakly, my son's eyes glistening with anger. "It's been a growing problem moon after moon. I will speak to him, alright? Please refrain from acting rashly." My son does not seem pleased by this, but he hesitantly obeys and sighs. "Now, see to it you have comforting dreams. I will visit you when the morrow comes."

With a heavy heart, I make my way to my chambers and open the door slowly, feeling Aegon's eyes gazing harshly at my figure, making me shiver with mild discomfort. "Wife," he murmurs, making my body tense.

"Husband," I murmur coldly in response, shakily exhaling as I turn to him. "Vaenor as brought time news." I watch as Aegon's face contorts to one of confusion as she sits up. I've now noticed he is nude and comfortable, possibly not the best time to bring this up. But, it's best now than never.

"You've brought whores into our bed," I murmured, turning from him. I feel the tension grow thick, not even having to look at Aegon to know he's washed with grief. "I love you," he breathes, his voice filled with wonder and surprise. "I never want to lose you."

His words are all he can muster, the tears beginning to well up in my eyes as I wipe my cheeks with the backs of my hands.

"Then why dishonor this family we've built? I thought you'd improved. I-" my voice cracks as I say these words, clenching my dress tightly. I hear shuffling, not acknowledging such things as Aegon rises from the bed and steps toward me. "Am I not enough?"

"Gods no!" Aegon says sternly, placing a hand on my shoulder which I shrug away, feeling him wince from the gesture. "It was a drunken mistake, I swear it."

"And I don't believe you."

"I'd never consciously risk our family over a whore, I'd never risk your heart," he whispers, trying to reach for me once more. Swiftly, I move away.

"And you don't know what love is."

"Oh, the infatuation of youth! Love is wanting someone to understand you!" he preaches as if he's some sort of enthusiast on the matter. It makes me sick.

"And heartbreak," I bark back.

"And compassion," he reminds.

"The sacred bonds of the family!" I shout in anger, my heart clenching. He gave up our family for some whore.

"And lust," His words sink into my skin, scorching and harsh, making tears fall down my cheeks. "I will never give you up. We will get through this together." he's ripping me apart. Aegon reaches for me once more, and I tug away.

"Am I not enough for you?" he asks, ignoring the red-hot anger flashing in my eyes.

"Yes," I coldly whisper in response, wiping my eyes. Aegon stares in shock as I speak up once more. "You've broken your promise, gods forgive me for being so naive as to believe you were becoming a loyal man."

I can feel myself trembling, though the fight within me is not diminished.

"How do you know? How could you possibly know what love is?" Aegon whispers, making my anger boil.

"Because it's what I feel for you. And it's what I've felt for you for so long that I can't imagine being anything other than happy to be with you, even when you're an infatuated, adolescent idiot with those silk street whores," I murmured, surprised by his actions as he shakes his head, smiling.

"I have a feeling this will be one of those problems I can't resolve, and which I'll regret for a long time to come." He raises an eyebrow and then finally touches my shoulder. "Well, that and the fact that I made you cry again." I pause, sighing. Of course, I grow to forgive him, how could I not? I had no choice.

"I beg of you, never leave me," I plead. "I will stay by your side until you are well and healthy again." I yearn to gaze into his eyes and implore him to never repeat these actions, but the weight of my emotions overwhelms me, and I break down into uncontrollable sobs.

"I promise," he assures me, his words tumbling out through sobs of his own, "I will never leave you."

Despite his broken speech I continued to weep as I sense the sincerity in his vow. I wipe away a tear that threatens to spill over as I observe the concern etched on his face, the same face I had always trusted. He bends down and enfolds me in a tight embrace, my tears soaking into his bare skin while his warmth infuses me with renewed strength. Whispers escape his lips as he holds me close, "I could never bear to lose you, my beloved." As I hold him back, his sorrowful expression transforms into one of peace.

[dewaxar]

Devotion

Aegon x oc drabble

Note: This is completely unedited srry

Eliana always loved the way the sun came in through the window of the Sept. The crystal glass covers the large room in many colors. She was dusting the strangers altar when she heard the doors to the Sept open. The eldest prince, son of King Viserys, walked in. He rarely came to the Sept unless forced by his mother, who came almost daily, so it was a shock to see him without her pleading as they entered. Eliana was quick to welcome him with a small smile and stopping her dusting to leave him to pray, assuming he wished to be alone due to his usual hatred of the place.

"Eliana" his tone was quiet but in the silence of the Sept she could hear him just fine, she turned to look at him to see his glassy eyes and his overall gloomy appearance. She was used to people coming to the Sept in sorrow, and she had been a confidant to his mother in her frequently depressed state, but she had never seen the prince so clearly close to falling apart.

"Yes, my prince?" She wasn't sure what he wanted, but she was there to provide, being the only septa in for the rest of the evening she had a duty to help him, whether it was to confess, pray or simply cry she had helped many others before and she knew she could help him. What she was not expecting was his quick approach and grabbing of her dress, pulling her in until his face was buried in her shoulder and his tears were dampening her dress, she didn't know what to do, most people didn't touch her unless she prompted the contact but the prince grabbed her with an authority that had her frozen for a moment before her brain caught up to his actions and she began gently caressing his back, hoping this was the right response.

"How can I help you, my prince?" She was hesitating this time. She didn't know him well and knew how quick people are to outbursts when in such a precarious state. He didn't respond, but he tightened his grip more, digging his fingers into her hips. She let him hold her for a while longer until she guided him by his shoulders to sit on the stairs in front of the looming statue of the stranger. His crying slowed, but his breathing remained uneven. One of her hands was still rubbing up and down his back while the other had moved to his hair, running her fingers through his silver hair, though it was illuminated with a light pink from the setting sun through the window. She had always thought he was quite beautiful but his drinking tendencies and blunt attitude had kept her at a safe distance, as well as her religion pushing any attraction to the very back of her head but at this moment with his heavy breaths on her throat she couldn't think of her Gods, only him and how to calm him in whatever way he wanted.

"Why did you choose to be a septa?" The question caught her off guard, especially with the shake in his voice.

"What?"

"You could've chosen many different positions, hell with your looks, you probably could've gotten any high lord to put a ring on your finger and live your life in riches but instead you choose a boring life where you are restricted from everything fun in life" He was looking at her now, fully staring into her eyes, his own quickly rid of his previous tears, she felt intimidated and nervous. With his clear distaste for her lifestyle, she was a little unsure whether or not to be defensive or defuse the situation.

"My life's not boring" she didn't sound confident in her statement, but she was hoping Aegon would ignore it.

"You know that's not true. No sex, you will never marry and I've never once seen you outside the walls of this gloomy fucking hellhole" now she was irritated. How did he go from crying into her shoulder to attacking her way of life.

"Don't talk to me like that, Aegon" her attempt to make her voice firm and intimidating had seemingly worked as he straightened up and looked a little guilty.

"If you want to talk about what's bothering you, I'll be here, but you don't get to just walk in and insult my devotion" she continued. Wanting to make it clear to him that she wouldn't take being walked all over because if she didn't she had no doubt he would continue with his harsh attitude towards her, likely to deflect from his moment of vulnerability. He mumbled an apology, looking away from her and fidgeting with his hands, though he didn't pick at his nail beds till they bled like his mother did, he just twisted his gold ring around his pinky finger.

"Why did you come here, Aegon? I've never seen you here unless forced" her voice was gentle, or at least she hoped it was.

"I wanted you" He whispered. Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"My mother always talks about how great you are and that you're so comforting, and I just, I wanted that" Eliana was very rarely unknowing of what to say, her talent with words she always considered to be one of her greatest qualities but looking at this man who she had only ever seen annoyed and stand offish be so wanting for comfort left her brain empty of any words to say. After a few minutes of silence she finally managed to string together a sentence.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Just- just let me touch you?" She didn't expect that, the rushed way the words came out of his mouth broke whatever assurance she had that this would be like all the other times she had held crying men.

"W-what? What did you say?" He didn't answer. He moved his hand to her waist, gripping the fabric there and gently pulling her closer. She could run. She could scream, even being alone in the Sept if she screamed loud enough people would hear, but she didn't. She wanted to help, so she let him pull her until her side was flush with his own.

"Can you, can you put your arms around me? Like before" his voice was softer now, he wasn't commanding her, he was asking. The look in his eyes gave away how desperately he craved the physical contact, so she obliged, slowly and gently wrapping one of her arms around his shoulders and the other moving to the ends of his hair. She had expected him to lean into her once more, but he didn't. He just stared at her. It was intimate in a way she wasn't expecting, but she held eye contact, hoping it would offer some comfort.

"Do you want to talk about what is bothering you?" She whispered, scared to break the tension between the two of them

"No." it was simple and quick before he pushed his lips onto her own. It was so sudden she froze for a moment. If she was expecting anything, it certainly wasn't this. After the brief freeze of surprise, she felt herself rapidly giving into his advances, closing her eyes and letting him drag her onto his lap. He kissed exactly as she would've guessed he did, desperate and messy. When his tongue prodded at her lips, she had no hesitation opening her mouth and letting his tongue explore hers. It wasn't until one of his hands moved from his tight grip on her waist to her thigh, where her dress had scrunched up to when he moved her on top of him that she pulled away, breathing heavily. She grabbed his hand as he attempted to snake his way underneath her dress.

"No, Aegon" she reprimanded, the action had snapped her out of her daze. She was on the prince's lap. She had let him shove his tongue in her mouth with no attempt to stop him. It went against everything she believed in, everything she was. But she knew if he kissed her again, she still wouldn't stop him. She felt overwhelmingly warm, so she moved to remove herself from Aegon's thighs, but he still held her.

"Why not? Were you not enjoying yourself?" His tone was mocking her, but underneath it, she could sense a hint of insecurity. She gently removed his hands from her body, and he didn't attempt to keep them there, letting her pull herself away, standing up and backing a little away from him.

"It doesn't matter!" she was slightly panicked, unintentionally raising her voice at him.

"That was wrong, we shouldn't have, I shouldn't have let you do that" Now it was her wringing her hands. She was on edge and trying to deny how much she truly wanted to settle back into his grip and kiss him until neither of them had any air left, and his fingers were imprinted into her skin.

"You're right, I'm sorry" is all he said before leaving but his tone was not apologetic it was blank, void of anything to give away whether or not he actually felt guilty for almost tainting her but Eliana knew deep down by the way he walked out of the Sept she would be seeing him attend prayer much more frequently.

(Any constructive criticism is welcome. Also, i might make a part 2 idk)

[vhagarsback]

warm

jace velaryon x reader

genre: hurt/comfort, fluff

warning: none?

summary: jacaerys finds you, and he will never let anything happen to you.

Your eyes were blurred with tears, the long dress was suddenly uncomfortable to run through the castle.

Servants and guards, even though they didn’t stop you, seemed to wonder what to do with the weeping princess.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, feeling ridiculous for crying like that for a foolish reason.

"Wait, princess!" A voice called your name and hurried footsteps came towards you. Your chest hurt, because you already knew who was after you.

You tried to walk faster, wiping your damp face with the back of your hand, but the prince was quicker, slipping his hand into yours. You froze, not daring to turn around at your most vulnerable moment.

"Princess..." Jacaerys voice was sweet and cautious, as if he was afraid that you would run again. His palm was warm against yours, the firm grip made you realize that it was useless to try to ignore the prince.

You felt guilty as soon as you turned around, Jacaerys eyes were filled with concern. He was panting, he seemed to be in a mission to find you.

"Who did this to you, my love?" Jacaerys asked, releasing your hand only to hold your face between his palms. Jacaerys hands were always hot, his chest warm when you slept together. Jacaerys ever told you it was the blood of the dragon.

Trying to find the answer in your eyes, his face contorted into an expression of pain when a solitary tear ran down your cheek.

You swallowed, running away was tempting, "Aegon was being stupid."

Jacaerys sighed angrily, his eyes glinting. The concern that filled them before turned to hatred. "He is stupid. All the time. What did he say to you?"

You looked away, Jacaerys attention was overwhelming, It made you feel like the only person in the world. The prince was apprehensive, as far as he knew, Aegon was capable of anything, even more so if he knew it would affect him.

"What did he say to you, dearest?" He asked again and stroked your hair, you looked at him.

"He said that i'm useless in the castle. that i'm not even good enough for a..." You hesitated to complete the sentence, you wouldn't be able to utter something so absurd in front of your lover. However, a glance at Jacaerys expression made you finish. "...Bastard."

The prince clenched his jaw, laughing incredulously. His hands went down to your shoulders, you felt them tremble slightly in anger. "I will take care of it. Wait for me in my chambers."

"No, Jace." You called out determinedly as Jacaerys was about to call a guard to accompany you. Jacaerys stopped and looked at you, his brown eyes still burning in fury. "He just wants attention, and I was mindless enough to listen to his words."

The prince denied with his head, pulling you to his chest, one hand holding you tight. "He has no right to speak to you like that, my love."

Aegon's words were nonsense when you were next to Jacaerys, your face cold with tears no longer bothered you, your messy hair didn't matter.

"I won't let him do anything to you. He won't come near you." Jacaerys whispered in your ear, his voice confident and with the certainty of a future king. Your heart was beating fast, you closed your eyes and heard Jacaerys heart imitating yours.

"I know." You replied, raising your head to meet the eyes of your prince. You recognized what you always saw when you looked at him, love.

Your lips met his halfway and you forgot your troubles, the hands on your waist were all you felt. His lips were soft against yours, warm.

Though, Jacaerys meant his words.

a/n: just a silly little thought to my jace girlies <3

[vethera]

Our Blood Runs Hot

Synopsis: Born from the same womb, Jacaerys and [Name] Velaryon were weaved of the same flesh and blood. The history books will write that their bond as brother and sister was brittle and forgotten, but maesters and princes will do anything to wash away their imprint. 

Paring: Jacaerys Velaryon/(f) Reader, Aemond Targaryen/(f) Reader

warnings: sibling incest, incest, blood/violence, sexual content in future parts, honestly what do you expect from GRRM work lol, probs not the ending you want... haven't decided...

A/N: wrote this on ao3, decided to post on here as well. cause I'm bored lol!

Chapter I The Velaryon Twins

How awfully dull…

You watched as your elder twin brother, Jacaerys, was being trained to fight. There was nothing more you wanted to do than to be the one fighting. Ser Harwin Strong motivates and encourages your brothers as he always done; he has always been kind to all of you. Ser Cristion liked to ignore your brothers in the training and was more keen to teaching your young uncles.

Jacaerys, despite being your twin, was born with brown hair. You received your mothers Targaryen genes—pale white hair and violet eyes.

“Can I join, Ser Criston?” you asked without thinking, and everyone turned to face you with raised eyebrows. Your confidence fades when Aegon chortled; he looked at you like you were some pathetic girl who had no place here.  “Perhaps… I could learn a thing or two.”

“The battlefield is no place for a princess.” Ser Criston explained. You frowned. Aegon Targaryen looked to your brothers and Aemond with a cocky smirk. There was no worse shame than for a noble woman to hold a sword, apparently, but you thought differently. Decades ago, Visenya Targaryen wielded a sword and a dragon with her younger sister and helped Aegon I Targaryen to conquer all of Westeros. There were plenty of woman warriors in this world, so why couldn’t you learn to wield a sword?

A sudden anger arose inside of you when you saw Aegon’s blatant mockery. You gritted your teeth and scoffed, shooting up from the bench you were sitting on, your gown of crimson silk flowed as you sharply walked away.

”[Name]!”

You froze when you heard Jacaerys. He came to your side, like he always did. You look over his shoulder and you could see the worrisome expression on Ser Harwin’s face. He was always so prodding. He quickly looked away when he found you staring.

“What’s the matter? Why are you leaving?” Jacaerys asked. You stare at the knights armor he wore and you only grew more annoyed that you could not be the one wearing it.

“Nothing.” You bite, annoyed. Jacaerys stared into your fuming violet eyes. You blew a single strand of white hair out of your eyes. Jacaerys smiled at your childish pout.

”I’ll teach you later, okay? Just stay and watch for now.” He suggested, and your eyes widened in surprise. Jacaerys was a good brother; he would always be there to leave a way out for you. A beaming grin grew on your face and you jumped into his arms, squealing in gratitude, Jacaerys was left practically toppling over your outburst. “Don’t be so excited. It’s supposed to be a secret.” He sharply whispered into your ear and you immediately retreated your embrace.

You turned your attention to the trainees. Aegon stared in disgust. There was nothing more you wanted to do than bear your teeth at him. He was cruel and demanding to everyone around him. You disliked Aegon with a fiery passion. Aemond was the better of the two, and you honestly pitied him. He was the object of Aegon’s belittling because he lacked a dragon. The younger Targaryen boy stared at you with intrigue before he went back to fighting.

”Like this?”

”No, like this.” Jacaerys showed you how to hold a sword. His hands are over yours to teach you how to grip. “Firm, okay?” he said, and you nodded. You stared at your wooden sword, that Jacaerys had taken for this reason, determined that one day you would know how to wield and sheathe your sword upon enemies. Lucerys stood by watching and giving you pointers as well—something you found quite amusing, your baby brother was teaching you.

”What are you doing?” Ser Harwin asked from behind both of you. Jacaerys jumped and tried to hide the sword from the older man’s eyes. The three of you were in mother’s chambers, hiding away from prying eyes, but here was Ser Harwin coming to ruin all the fun certainly.

“Nothing—“

”They’re teaching me how to fight.” You proudly said with your chin lifted and eyes firm as you looked up at Ser Harwin. Jacaerys eyes widened at your clear disregard for the consequences.

“[Name]!” he cried out, and you didn’t even flinch. “It’s supposed to be a secret! Now, he’s gonna tell mother.”

”So? I would like mother to know.” You answered as if it were the most obvious thing. Jacaerys smacked his forehead in exhaustion at your recklessness. “She’s going to have four brutal knights! I’ll be the best one!” you giggled, heartily, and See Harwin watched with a soft smile as your big violet eyes glimmered with mischief.

“Mother would be furious! You’re a princess, not a knight.” Jacaerys argued, sharply.

”I didn’t ask to be a princess,” you mumbled, angrily. Jacaerys sighed, frowning at your pouting expression. You knew he hated to see you displeased. “Ser Harwin, you wouldn’t dare tell this to my mother now would you?”

Ser Harwin smiled, and you grew excited, thinking he wouldn’t tell your mother. “A princess shouldn’t sully her hands with blood.” He said, deflating any hopes you had that he would keep your secret. “Your brothers will protect you when the time comes, there is no need for you to learn the art of war.”

You furrowed your brows, bothered, “I want to protect them, too. I don’t… I just want everyone to stop treating us like we’re trash compared to the others. We are just as special because we are Targaryens, are we not?”

Ser Harwin eyes widened at your words. You were looking straight at him with your eyes made of pure fire. There was no weakness in you. There was only fire and it burned brighter with your words.

“Worry not of these things, Princess [Name].” He said, gently. He patted your head, “You are of royal blood. No one is looking down on you or your brothers.”  You disagreed, but you couldn’t say anything before he whispered to slowly you and Jacaerys.  

“I promise I won’t tell your mother, but only this once.”

Jacaerys and you shared a grin before running around the whole place and practicing your sword fighting. You hardly cared what mother would think. You were sure that if you managed to convince her, which you will, you would be okay into doing such a boyish thing.  

Ser Harwin went as far as to give you a hand. He offered great advice to all three of you regarding sword-fighting. As expected of the Commander of the City Watch, he was a great fighter. You were unsure if he was considered the best, but he had to have earned his position, had he not?

The door opened. Everyone froze, and you quickly handed your wooden sword to Jace. He chuckled, and you glared at him for laughing at you.

”I thought you you said wanted mother to know or did my ears deceive me, sister?” he proudly mocked, and you quickly pinch his arm through his blouse. He shrieked in pain, jumping away from you. Mother who had just walked through immediately set her eyes on the both of you. You could tell she must’ve had a hard time at the Small Council.

Jacaerys playfully grabbed your chubby cheeks and yanked them earning a long and loud scream from you. He laughed at the face you were making.

“Jace, leave your sister alone.” Came Rhaenyra’s sharp tone from behind them. Jacaerys quickly let go of your cheeks and stuck out his tongue at your prideful smirk. Your eyes fell back on your mother and her swollen belly. Soon you would have another sibling. Running to your mother’s side, you quickly placed your hand on her belly. She smiled down at you, raking her slender pale fingers through your white sleek hair. A gummy grin is plastered on your childish face and you blinked those devastatingly lilac eyes of yours.

“I hope it’s a girl! I want a little sister!”

Rhaenyra smiled, “We have to wait and see,”

“Oh, she prays every night for a little sister—“ Luke commented, rolling his eyes, and Jace laughed.

“Be quiet, Luke! My prayers are not to make light of!” you shouted, unladylike, which made Luke flinch at your sudden tone. You were always so fiery and it sometimes frightened him when he irked you, never knowing how you’d react.

“Now, [Name], that is no way to speak to your younger brother. Much less how a princess should speak. You aren’t a savage, are you?” Rhaenyra chided, lightly. She had heard plenty of the troubles you caused, and was constantly told about how unruly you were becoming. There was no stopping your strong spirit, but truly Rhaenyra quite admired and loved your passion. She often saw herself inside of you.

“No, mother…” you mumbled under your breath, saddened with yourself that you had disappointed your mother. Perhaps she had gotten word of how you behaved at the training grounds today. Jacaerys playfully poked your shoulder, gaining your attention, and you looked over at him with a sad frown.

He sent you a comforting smile. Like always, your older brother is there to lift your spirits up when you are sad.

”Mother, may we be excused?”

Rhaenyra expectantly stared at him, her eyes moved between you and Jacaerys. He didn’t quiver under her gaze, he remained stoic and determined, eventually mother sighed and nodded. Jacaerys beamed brightly, grabbing onto your hand and pulling you out the door.

“Luke, what are you waiting for?! An invitation?! Make haste!” you screamed, demandingly, despite your lecture that you had not received for more than ten minutes prior. Rhaenyra gave you a stern look and you giggled, sheepishly, before trotting behind your brothers out the door.

Jacaerys sneaked through the halls of the castle. He whispered and shushed both of you when you tried to ask him where he was leading you to. The castle halls were decorated by red and black, Targaryen flags, and the crest of your house. To your utter disappointment, Jacaerys had took you to the library. Before you managed to snap at him, he quickly shoved a book in your face.

He flipped the pages and showed you what you read as: Aegon the Conqueror. Lucerys was confused, just as you were; they were just old stories of people who once lived, were they not? Everyone knew the tale of Aegon the Conqueror. He was the one who started it all, and he was your blood. He was legendary.

”Look,” Jacaerys pointed to the page. “Visenya Targaryen… was a warrior. A really good one, too.” He explained and he watched with warmth as your expression lit up the room. You snatched the book from his hands and started reading about the great Visenya. “You could be a legendary warrior just like her, sister.” Jacaerys continued, and you felt your world expand with this newfound information.

You could be a warrior.

“Aegon wedded both of his sisters?!” Luke gasped, shocked, “You can do that?” he asked, curiously. You looked over at him and wondered if it was allowed. It certainly didn’t matter to Aegon if it was legal or not.

“Hardly matters, right? We are Targaryens. We have dragons. No one can tell us what to do,” you commented, proudly. “Our great-grandfather Baelor married his sister as well. It is in our Targaryen custom, I believe.” You dissected, pursing your lips in thought.

Luke eyes widened, “Does that mean one of us will marry you?”  It was an innocent question coming from the youngest, but it made you freeze. Were you? Tearing your gaze from the paper, your eyes met with deep brown hues. Jacaerys was staring at you with a serious expression, and you were speechless at his next words.

”If it is expected of us.” Jacaerys answered, easily.

[swordknown]

What if Rhaegar had taken a different kingsguard to the ToJ with him and left Arthur in King's Landing to guard Elia and the children?

While Lewyn had been sent to lead the Dornish men at the Trident, Arthur remained. Aerys, mayhaps, believed that since he was Kingsguard before Elia was Princess, his loyalty lay with the crown, and not her. 

Gods, if only he knew.

His loyalty lied with Rhaegar, and even then, tenuously after his actions since the tourney of Harrenhall. For Rhaegar is the one to leave him behind, with nary a word of where he may be going. Perhaps wise, for Arthur is truly uncertain how he’d have reacted to the taking of Lyanna Stark.

Arthur knows Elia is a hostage for Dornish loyalty. Elia knows this too, and while she never says a word, never asks him for protection, she is always looking to him, gaze as expectant as it is imploring. Arthur doesn’t know what to do. Aerys surrounds himself with those all too willing to whisper in his ear if Arthur intends to plot. So, he keeps his plans silent. 

No one denies him the right to send a raven to his dear, dishonored twin sister. After all, Arthur has no doubt that it was read before ever leaving this kept, and they can find nothing in it. He can only hope that dear Ashara knows him better, can read between the lines. 

Princess Elia and her children are happy here, safe beneath King Aerys. Aerys keeps a tight grip on the Princess, and her children. I wish you were here. You or Allem or Allyria, for I miss you all dearly and wish to see you again. Please, send help. I don’t know how to leave this wretched place, but I want to go home. 

And oh, his sister knows him too well.

If I could, I’d take a ship there myself to come visit. Ashara prefers horses to ships, but a ship is the safest way out of the capital. There would be one waiting. Do you remember the last time we were in Starfall together? During that feast for Allem’s marriage, you danced all night with Lady Myria. He barely danced at all that night, coaxed onto the floor only by Ashara and Elia, and it was Myria Jordayne who walked off in a huff when he refused to take her for a turn. The ship wouldn’t have Dayne sails upon it, but those of the Jordaynes. Clever. 

Now, it is a matter of biding time. His well known nature of stoicism serves him well here, as he deflects any real attempts to be friendly with him for the next few weeks. Have the people assume it’s because Aerys’ madness is getting worse and he is simply a mindless white cloak, doing his duty. 

There can be no more delaying when word reaches him that the gates have been opened to the Lannisters. They have done nothing, not yet, but Arthur cannot find it in him to trust them. Not when they march an army upon the Red Keep. 

At the news, Aerys is pleased, until he notes Arthur swiftly making his way from his side. Than a black rage overtakes his features as he demands to know where he presumes to go. Arthur doesn’t deign to answer, and that infuriates the man further. 

Arthur cuts down those who stand in his way. Jaime Lannister has his sword out, but there’s such a look of anguished uncertainty on his face that Arthur doesn’t bother doing anything besides walking passed him. 

He arrives to the corridor outside Elia’s chambers to hear her scream. 

He cuts down Amory Lorch and his men first, for they are trying to enter Rhaegar’s room. They are surprised to see him, the famed Sword of the Morning, and he makes rather quick work of them. 

Another scream from Aegon’s nursery has him sprinting in that direction, arriving in time to see a true Mountain of a man tossing the Dornish Princess to the floor like she is nothing but a ragdoll. Arthur’s snarl is loud and furious. 

Elia was protecting her babe before she was tossed aside, trying to block the beast before her from reaching little Aegon. Her attempt was not in vain, for said beast turns to Arthur instead of the boy. 

Their swords clash. 

It is a longer fight than he would have liked. Arthur is leagues better in skill, but the Mountain has a sheer strength to him that makes every hit a potential death, so he must take care to never get hit. Until, finally, Arthur ducks in close, gets his sword in the man’s neck. The man dies, but not before bringing his own sword swinging wildly around in a last ditch effort to push him off. The flat of his blade catches Arthur in the shoulder, staggering him, but the man dies regardless. 

And now, his shoulder aches, but it is a pain easily ignored. He turns, where Princess Elia clutches one arm to her chest, the skin already bruising heavily from the brute’s rough treatment. Perhaps she even has a broken bone. 

Despite the pallor of her skin and the fear in her eyes, Elia pushes herself to her feet, as always, far stronger than most would give her credit for.  

“Rhaenys-” Elia gasps out, even as she picks up her babe, one armed, wavering on her feet but clutching little Aegon so very tightly. On a hunch, Arthur spins on his heel and heads to Rhaegar’s room, opening the door. 

“Princess?” he calls quietly to the empty room, and hears a little gasp from under the bed. Her curly black-haired head pops out as she looks up at him with watery eyes. 

“Ser Arthur?” 

The relief he feels at seeing her pretty purple eyes, teary but alive, has him hooking his hands under her arms and picking her up. He turns to bring her back to her mother,  but Rhaenys cries, reaching out for the black kitten that scampers out from under the bed. Arthur hooks a hand around the tiny thing’s stomach, pulling it to his chest, to the Princess. The girl turns, presses her face into his neck, and murmurs about scary men and scary noises and how mother said only to come out for him. 

He meets Elia out in the hall, and the Princess nearly weeps to see her daughter alive and safe. Arthur, however, tenses as Jaime Lannister approaches, hand sliding to grip Dawn’s handle, as he stares at the boy. True, he may not appear much a threat with a little girl in his arms, but Jaime should know better than most that even Arthur Dayne with a child in one arm is a better swordsman than near any other. 

Yet, Arthur cannot help but note how bloody Jaime’s sword is, how haunted his expression is, and he wonders what else must have happened in the throne room.

“Come. We need to get the Princess and her children to safety.” he states, evenly, staring at the boy’s expression for any sign of uncertainty. 

He sees none, only a short nod and a steel confidence overtaking the boy’s gaze. 

Arthur is proud. 

“Lannister men approach from the Mud Gate, though most have already reached the main keep.” Jaime shared. Arthur nods shortly. 

“The Iron Gate then. A Jordayne ship is at the docks there.” At that, Elia’s gaze snaps to him, but he doesn’t look her direction. Doesn’t want to see what she is feeling, for he fears it will be shock. He knows he did not allow her to have much faith in him. Did not allow her to hope that he would chose to save her. For if it seemed like she had hope, he did not wish to know what Aerys would do to snuff it out. 

Jaime takes the lead, with Elia between them and Rhaenys still cradled to Arthur’s chest, Balerion a squirming ball of fluff in his hand. Elia keeps glancing back at them, but Arthur offers her a reassuring, if weary, grin. 

It’s impressive, how far they make it before the red and gold cloaks of Lannister men appear in their vision. 

Arthur bolts one of the hall doors behind them, thick wood. It would hold, for a while. Long enough for them to get a lead, but not long enough for them to make it all the way to the dock. 

He already knows this could be an argument. He fully intends to nip that in the bud.

“You will go.” Arthur commands, firm, as he hands Balerion over to Jaime, who seems quite ill at ease with the little kitten, eyes flitting between Arthur and the door as it starts to shake. “You will go Elia, and you will make it to Dorne, you and Rhaenys and Aegon, and you will be safe.”

Elia realizes that there is no time to argue, if the sorrow in her eyes is any indication. For no matter how dear Arthur may be to her, her children come first. Arthur carefully puts Rhaenys down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Sweet girl. He nods to Jaime. 

Elia nudges Rhaenys forward and Jaime takes the lead. They soon disappear down the hall.

Arthur is a member of the Kingsguard. Arthur is a Dornishman. Rhaegar is dead. Elia is alive. 

Arthur draws his sword, and stands at the ready as the door comes crashing down. 

They will not get by him.