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spider-stark · 9 months ago

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PRECIPICE

Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary - Forced to attend a stuffy ball, you find yourself hiding beneath a table with Aegon.

Warnings - implied targcest as always

Word Count - 4.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts //

The delicious aroma of roast mutton is wafting over you as you pass one of the many long serving tables lining the walls of the ballroom. Your gaze drags along the vast spread that has been prepared for tonight; a variety of artisan breads, cooked meats, and candied desserts are laid out upon silver serving dishes.

As you reach the end of the first table, a pile of lemon cakes snag your attention. Neatly stacked atop an ornate porcelain platter, the cakes are coated in a thin glaze that shimmers in the light. Your mouth instantly begins watering at the sight, your stomach growling in a way that would be deemed improper for a Lady.

Beside you, holding a plate that has been loaded with mashed potatoes and honeyed chicken, Jace turns his head to cock a brow at you.

“Hungry?” He asks, chuckling softly.

You suck in a deep breath before forcefully tearing your gaze from the cakes. “Extremely.”

It takes an enormous amount of will power to turn away from the serving table while still empty-handed, but you somehow manage to do just that. Having hardly even walked a few steps, though, Jace is abandoning his plate to rush after you, softly seizing your wrist to keep you from moving any further.

“If you’re hungry, then you should eat.”

His concern is obvious, not only through his tone, but his expression as well. With his furrowed brow and tight-mouthed frown, you’re fairly certain that he’s already considering the consequences of dragging you back to the table and feeding you himself if need be.

Jace had always been that way—not only with you, but with everyone. He was kind hearted and considerate to fault.

“I would,” you smile, shaking your head slightly to dismiss his concern, “but I’m afraid that if I do, I might very well pop right on out of this ridiculously tight corset.”

You wave an idle hand down to your waist, unnaturally cinched by the intricate lacing and boning of the garment beneath your evergreen gown. His eyes follow the motion, tracing along the intense curve, lingering for a moment too long.

The explanation seems to wash away much of his concern, relieved to know that discomfort was the only reason you had chosen to abstain from the treats being served. Even so, a touch of empathy remains, accompanied by the faintest hint of desire gleaming in his amber gaze.

Amber—an unusual color for a boy of Velaryon blood. His eyes were one of the many reasons that your mother, the Queen Alicent, felt so confident in labeling Princess Rhaenyra’s boys as bastards behind closed doors. And, if you were being honest with yourself, you knew that there was likely truth to her claims. Your nephews probably were bastards—but you didn’t particularly care.

Jace was nice to you, and that was all that had ever mattered to you.

He clears his throat, realizing that he had been gawking at your body for far longer than he should. “It looks uncomfortable,” the words spill out without permission, and you nearly laugh when his eyes go wide. “That didn’t come out right, nothing about it actually looks uncomfortable—it looks stunning! I mean, you look stunning! It’s just that, I don’t know, I imagine that having something squeeze you so tightly might be-”

“Jace, it’s okay! Truly,” you interrupt his rambling with a soft giggle. “You should know that I’m not so easily offended,” you playfully chide. “Besides, you’re right. It is quite uncomfortable!”

Actually, quite felt like an enormous understatement. But you didn’t figure that Jace was particularly interested in hearing about how your breasts were aching from being roughly shoved up by the tight garment.

Jace looses a breath, his shoulders sagging in relief. “Then why bother wearing them? Many noble-women go without corsets. Even my mother hardly ever wears one—she believes they’re vile things that only aid in the objectification of ladies.”

Your brows rise, agreeing with the claims of your half-sister. But then you let your attention shift to the dais, meeting the rough stare of the reason why you had been forced into the tortuous garb—your mother.

She’s already watching you when you meet her eye, her lip curled as she sends you a pointed look, silently urging you away from your nephew. It takes a great deal of effort not to shrink beneath the weight of her attention, and you’re beyond grateful for the group of women who shuffle past you towards the dance floor, giving you an excuse to break the hold she has on you.

“I wear it because my mother wishes for all of her children to look their best,” you answer, shifting your focus back onto Jace. “And who am I to disappoint the Queen?”

He notes the sudden callousness of your tone, as well as the way you clasp your hands together at your waist, fidgeting with the golden ring on your index finger. He doesn’t bother asking if you’re okay, however, knowing well enough that you were not—and already knowing why, as well.

You imagine that Jace doesn’t much like your mother; both for her part in the rumors spread about him and his brothers and for the way she has treated his mother.

It makes you upset in a strange way, a part of you always wishing to defend the Queen, no matter how abhorrent her actions. After all, she was your mother—whether you like it or not—and you knew very well that if someone were to try to hurt you or your siblings, then she would gladly lay her life on the line for you.

You were thankful for her; even if her protection hurt, even if her maternal love only exists when your life is at stake.

“Speaking of your siblings,” Jace suddenly notes, veering slightly off-subject as his own stare drifts towards the dais, “how did Aegon manage to weasel his way out of attending tonight?”

Your brows snap together before letting your head snap back towards the dais, managing to avoid your mother’s nasty stare this time by looking to her right, taking note of each of your siblings.

Aemond is sat directly by her side, his posture rigid as his eye scans across the room, alert and on-guard as usual. Next to him is Helaena, leisurely picking at her plate of food and mindlessly bobbing her head along to the symphony being played for court musicians. Daeron, who your mother insisted fly Tessarion here from Oldtown so that he might be present for tonight, is sat next to your empty chair, making idle chatter with those around him.

But Aegon’s chair, sat between yours and Helaena’s, is vacant.

A knot forms in your stomach when you look back at Aemond, his piercing violet eye catching yours, gleaming with a silent order—find our imbecile brother before he makes a fool of us all.

You give him a curt nod before looking away, head whirling as you begin searching the crowd around you for any sign of your eldest brother.

“Simple,” you huff, “he didn’t.”

Jace hums his understanding as you politely excuse yourself, turning away from him to begin shoving through the throng of people filling the room.

You decline invitations to dance and spout excuses as to why you can’t stop to chat as you push past noblemen-and-women from various Houses, trying to maintain the pleasant persona your mother favored while still moving fast enough that you might find Aegon before he finds any new ways to publicly bring shame upon the Targaryen name.

It’s exhausting work—and by the time you have shoved yourself to the other end of the room without finding him, you nearly consider giving up. Your chest hurts and your scalp is itching from being poked and prodded by a dozen or so pins, all of which had been meticulously placed by servants to arrange plaits into a fanciful half-updo.

In many ways, you look like your mother; with your elaborate hairstyle and green dress, the look is tied together by a pendant of the Seven-Pointed Star dangling from your neck.

And, in many ways, you hate it.

Much to the Queen’s dismay, you’ve never much liked the elegant styles preferred by many women at court. No, instead you spent much of your time donning mail with your hair lazily pulled back, joining Aemond for practice in the training yard.

She hated how unrefined you were, how indelicate you were; fearful for how others at court might view you for it, for how much attention you might draw to yourself.

You blow out a sigh, resisting the urge to pull all of the pins from your hair as you will yourself to keep walking, to keep looking for Aegon. A table overflowing with carafes of arbor wine and flagons of ale catches your attention, setting off alarm bells in your mind.

If Aegon were going to choose anywhere to hide at this godsforsaken ball, then it would certainly be in close proximity to the alcohol.

A cacophony of laughter and clinking goblets surrounds you as you approach, scanning over rows of bottles and skimming the faces of those nearby. Spinning your ring on your finger, you walk along the entire length of the long serving table, disappointed when you reach the end of it and find that your brother is still nowhere in sight.

Chewing on your cheek, you fight the urge to pour yourself a drink when you notice a carafe of blackberry wine. The plum colored liquid seems to call your name, singing promises of sweet oblivion, an escape from the restless feeling clawing at your chest.

You’re out of place here in court, and you always have been—you know that, and you worry that everyone around you knows, too.

Sensical enough to recognize that alcohol would likely just exacerbate your current ill-feelings, you shun the carafe and turn towards the grand entrance. Lifting your chin and squaring your shoulders, you try to appear more composed than you feel as you saunter towards the large wooden doors.

If Aegon had snuck off with one of the serving girls, then there was a good chance that he was still somewhere in the hall, either flirting or feeling up their skirts. And, if you were wrong, then at least he had provided you with an excuse to slip away from this mess of a ball.

As you pass by the last serving table, the platters and dishes atop it already thoroughly picked over, you feel someone tug at your dress. You whirl around, a fiery retort already falling off your tongue, fully intending to rip into whoever had found the audacity to touch you without permission—only to find yourself insulting the air.

There was no one there, at least not close enough to have touched you.

For a heartbeat you begin to reel, wondering if you’ve started to lose your mind before feeling the sensation again. A sharp tug at the fabric, just by your knee. Your head snaps down towards your dress, covering your mouth before a gasp can slip your lips.

An arm is peeking out from beneath one of the finely embellished tablecloths, and a well-groomed hand is clutching your skirts. You instantly recognize the hand as Aegon’s, having become intimately familiar with your brother’s touch throughout your life.

Taking a step closer to the covered table, you try to look natural as you hunch over it slightly to get closer to his level, feigning an interest in a half-eaten roast duck.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing, Aegon?!” Your voice is hushed, not quite a whisper, but low enough so that no one other than him might hear.

Releasing his hold on your skirts, Aegon lifts the tablecloth a little higher, revealing his face. “Get under here,” he tilts his head, motioning for you to join him beneath the table.

“No!”

He swiftly presses a finger to his lips in response to your incredulous shout, shushing you. You stiffen, nervously flicking your eyes to each side, checking to ensure that no one had heard you. Fortunately, the courtiers around you appear far too invested in their conversations and drinks to notice how you appear to have shouted at a roast duck.

Aegon’s lilac eyes are wide, pleading as he shoves the tablecloth up higher, giving you more room to slip beneath it. “Would you just shut up and come?”

It’s the sheer urgency of his tone that piques your interest, although you wish that it hadn’t. You huff out an annoyed sigh, taking another look around the room before gathering up your skirts and sinking to your knees, crawling underneath the table.

Once you’ve successfully sat down beside him on the stone floor, he drops the cloth, shielding the two of you from any prying eyes. The material is thin enough that it allows some light to pass through it, very dimly illuminated Aegon’s grinning face, all urgency having suddenly vanished.

“Welcome,” he almost sounds breathless, the word airy—and utterly unnecessary.

You can faintly see the rosy coloring of his cheeks, a few messy silver waves tumbling across his face, and you’re immediately willing to bet that he’s extremely buzzed. “What are you doing, Aeg?”

Your tone is firm, but there’s a certain gentleness to it that was specially reserved for your eldest brother. While you maintain that you love all three of them equally, it’s undeniable that your relationship with Aegon has always been… different.

He reaches to his side, lifting a carafe from the ground beside him. “Having a party,” he says, raising it towards your face and playfully swirling the garnet colored liquid.

“I’m unsure if you’re aware,” you motion towards the cloth shrouding you from the bustling ballroom, “but our mother has already planned quite the celebration for tonight—and she likely does not wish for it to be ruined by her drunkard son ducking beneath tables like an imbecile!”

Aegon pokes his bottom lip out into a pout. “Why must you assume that I am drunk?”

“Because you’re you,” you drone, cocking your head at him, “and you are always drunk.”

Rolling his eyes, he sits the carafe down on the ground between you. There are only mere inches separating the two of you, both of you squeezing your limbs close to your body to avoid having a foot peek out from beneath the table. Sitting this close to him, you can smell the sweetness of the arbor red of his breath—as well as the faintest hint of sulfur, a sign that he had clearly gone riding on Sunfyre earlier and had failed at washing off the dragon’s strong scent.

You take another breath, inhaling the smell of him into your lungs. It was familiar—comfortable, urging your taut muscles to slacken in his presence.

“And what if I told you that I am sober right now?”

A snort escapes you, sparing him an incredulous look. “Then I would call you a liar,” you tell him, tapping a finger against the rim of the half-empty carafe.

His stare drops down towards it, watching as the liquid ripples when you pull your hand back. When he looks back up, he’s wearing a crooked smile that makes your heart flutter. “Mostly sober, then.”

It’s nearly impossible to stifle your laugh, clamping a hand over your mouth so that you might muffle the sound and prevent passersby from becoming suspicious. The sound only makes his smile grow wider and more genuine, an expression that he graced very few people with.

“I’ll ask again,” you say, speaking only when you're confident that no more laughter will tumble out. “Why are you down here? If mother finds out then she will be furious and-”

Aegon tosses his head back, cutting you off with a groan. “Mother will be furious no matter what,”

Disdain drips from each syllable, thickening the air around you. He didn’t like talking about her much, and you couldn’t blame him for it. Of all your siblings, Aegon had been dealt the worst hand, simply by being born first. He got the brunt of your mothers vile behavior; and you hated that, too.

“Because,” lazily rolling his neck so that he can look at you again, he answers, “I’d rather spend my night under here,” he flicks a hand up, lazily gesturing around himself, “than be forced to sit through even one more tedious speech from some ancient Lord of gods-know-where!”

You bite your tongue, holding back another laugh.

“And,” he continues, nodding in your direction, “I am now saving you from the same mundane fate. You’re welcome.”

“What makes you think that I needed your saving?” You ask, brows rising.

Aegon purses his lips, placing a finger against his chin as he feigns contemplation, studying the intricate styling of your hair, the modest long-sleeved gown, and the Star resting against your covered breasts. “Perhaps it was that our mother has you dressed up as though you’re an aspiring Septa.”

Thinking of the plain women, with their simple gowns and traditional head coverings, you nearly laugh again as you ask, “How many Septa’s do you know that wear corsets and jewelry, brother?”

“None,” he admits, shoulders lifting into an indolent shrug. “Though, if they looked more like you, then I might finally have a reason to attend prayer. Beautiful women would be more than enough to turn me into a pious man.”

A warmth creeps up your neck as blood rushes to your cheeks, unsure if his statement was meant as a compliment—was he saying that he found you beautiful? If so, it shouldn’t have been a particularly shocking revelation. After all, Aegon had complimented you before, many times.

In all fairness, however, most of those times had been when he was thoroughly besotted. He had a habit of sneaking into your rooms and practically draping himself off of you, muttering drunken nonsense about how breathtaking you were. You had never placed much truth in the statements though, assuming that Aegon likely didn’t even recognize who he was speaking to, much less whose bed he had crawled into.

But even if this was a genuine and mostly sober attempt at complimenting you, the flattery of it doesn’t last nearly long enough. Your own insecurity washes back over you far quicker than you like, reminding you of just how unlike yourself you currently feel.

“I do not believe that anything would be capable of turning you into a pious man,” you joke, trying and failing to cover up the melancholy that has settled into your bones. “Not even beautiful women.”

“You could.”

The answer comes far too quick, spilling from his tongue with an eagerness that even seems to catch him by surprise.

“Though, I must say, for as exquisite as this dress makes you look,” his hand reaches across the short expanse dividing you, mindlessly running his fingers along the fabric covering your shoulder, “I much prefer the way look in armor—sweaty skin, messy hair, sword in-hand—all of it.”

Your breath catches in your throat as his touch drifts towards the center of your chest, fingers dragging along the thin chain leading to your pendant, lifting the Star into his palm. He stares at it for a moment before yanking it roughly from your neck, grinning when you yelp. “But this,” he lifts the Seven-Pointed Star slightly, “I absolutely hate.”

With that, he tosses it from underneath the table, sending it skittering across the floor beyond the tablecloth.

Your jaw drops open, a hand pressed against the now-sore spot along the back of your neck. Despite yourself, your lips start to curve into a playful smile. You try fighting against it, try pressing them into a firm line, but fail. “Mother will not be happy about that-”

“She’s never happy,” Aegon interjects. His own expression shifts, the line on his forehead deepening as he says, “Do not let yourself bear her misery. Life is too short—and you deserve more than that.”

A palpable silence is thickening the air, and your breathing seems to synchronize as you simply stare at one another.

Slowly, nervously, you say, “I’m not sure what it is that I deserve,”

“You deserve,” he pauses, lips still parted despite the absence of speech. Then, swallowing back the words that had been building in his throat, he says, “you deserve whatever it is that you want, sister.”

Your hand falls from your neck into your lap, and you avert your gaze, watching your fingers as they fidget with your ring. “And what if I do not know what I want?”

Once, you had thought that you wanted a life like Jaces. A happy life, with a mother that knew how to love you and siblings that hadn’t been raised in fear of their half-sister ascending the throne, taught that their very existence was a threat to her power. But, suddenly, you felt as though you were no longer sure.

Aegon hesitates, watching you carefully. His lilac eyes appear as though they’re searching for something within your own—a hint of recognition, or reciprocation. If he found what he was looking for, then you were unaware. “Then you’ll figure it out,” he sighs, his smile not reaching his eyes. “You have all the time in the world to decide.”

There is something reassuring about his statement, making it resonate with you in a way that you hadn’t expected. You look up, holding his gaze for a heartbeat, then two, and you almost swear that you can see it—the silent invitation, the plea to delve deeper into his words, to decipher exactly what it was that he was promising you.

You have all the time in the world—all the time in the world to decide if he might ever be something you want.

Suddenly you find yourself dancing on the edge of a precipice, chest tightening as you grapple with the idea that, maybe, something more might exist between you and Aegon.

That, maybe, he had always known who he was complimenting and what bed he was slipping into.

That, for him, it had always been you.

“Aegon, I-”

He shakes his head, cutting you off before you have a chance to say something that he fears you may regret. Then, sliding the carafe between you to the side, he scoots closer. “If you plan on staying under my table,” he teases, clearing his throat, “then we need to do something about your hair.”

“I thought you said I looked exquisite?” You stay still as he starts toying with the strands, trying to swallow the tumult of your own emotions.

Aegon’s plucking various pins from your hair, tossing them to the ground. “Yes, but I also said that I prefer your hair when it’s messy. It’s more…” he sucks in a breath, unable to hide the admiration swelling in his chest when he finally exhales, “you.”

Your cheeks are burning hot, and you’re suddenly very thankful for the lack of light around you. On instinct, you almost tell him how your mother wouldn’t agree—but then you think better of it.

“You’re… generous.”

Something about your voice sounds foreign in your ears. You sound nervous—and you’re not used to feeling nervous around Aegon.

His fingers are combing through the plaits forming your updo, his brow drawn taut, framing his lilac eyes, shining bright with concentration. “Generous,” he snorts softly, nails raking lightly against your scalp as he shakes the strands loose, “I don’t hear that one often.”

“Well perhaps you’d hear it more if you weren’t such an ass,” you shoot back, slowly trying to slip back into your usual self.

“Me? An ass?” He’s untangled the final braid, scooting away from you slightly now as he presses a hand to his chest, feigning innocence. “Never.”

Now falling in loose waves, free of those incessant pins, you brush your hair over your shoulder. “Just earlier I heard you telling Lord Grover that if wisdom were measured in wrinkles that he would be named Grand Maester.” You point out, unable to mask your amusement while recalling the old man’s shocked expression.

“Is it not true?” Aegon smirks. “The man is nearly seventy, and his age certainly shows.”

“Lord Grover is only two-and-fifty, brother.”

His brows shoot up, gaping at you. “Tell me that you’re not serious!” When you nod, confirming that you are, he sucks his teeth. “Wow—how unfortunate. He looks positively dreadful for his age, then. I thought that he surely had one foot in the grave by now.”

“Aegon!” You rebuke through your own sputtered laughter, shaking your head at his insolence. “See? This is what I was talking about! If you weren’t so crude then you might get more compliments.”

Swinging his arm back to grab for the carafe, Aegon’s nose scrunches slightly. “Why bother?” He implores, a hint of mischief in his tone. “My crudeness is what you like most about me, is it not? Without it, dear sister, your life would be quite boring.”

Just before he brings the carafe to his lips, he inclines his head towards the tablecloth, emphasizing his words. A reminder—that, without him, you would still be out there, sitting miserably amongst your siblings and being forced to dance with Lord’s twice your age.

There was something more beneath the veil of humor and arrogance, however. A craving that had him tipping the carafe back, hoping that the stinging of the alcohol might numb his gnawing desire for validation—to hear you say that you yes, my life would be boring without you.

“I suppose you’re right,” the admission has him pausing, the carafe lingering against his bottom lip. “Truth be told, I had never put much thought into it before, but you do have a way of keeping life interesting, Aeg. So, I must agree that, without you, my life would be positively dreadful.” Staring at the ground in-between you, you smile before adding, “After all, who else would be able to convince me to risk our mother’s scorn and crawl beneath a table to drink wine and fix my hair?”

There’s a slight tremor in his voice when he speaks, trying to mask the warmth swelling in his chest, “You have yet to drink a single drop.”

“Then I suppose that is the next thing you’ll have to fix,” you say, sticking your hand out towards him, urging him to pass you the carafe. He hands it to you while biting back a grin.

“Careful,” he warns, “drink too much and you may end up like your drunkard brother.”

“I don't mind,” You mirror his expression, your own lips curving as you raise the glass upwards, the strong scent of the arbor red stinging your nostrils. “I quite like my drunkard brother.”

His gaze burns against your flesh as you tilt your head back, allowing the alcohol to slip over your tongue, and you suddenly realize that you are no longer standing on the edge of that precipice.

You’re falling.

a/n - i was honestly just thinking about jude and cardan hiding under a table in the cruel prince and ended up with this? so yeah, definitely inspired by jurdan content (but y'know... no coup d'etat lmao).

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gtgbabie0 · 6 months ago

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-Cregan Stark x reader

{Cregan finds you curled up, sleeping in your shared bedchambers}

Enjoy my lovelies💕

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Lord Stark wasn’t unfamiliar with busy days, the type that consumed all of his attention and energy to only leave him exhausted. The endless amount of problems that seemed to grow with each passing hour, it was a tiring feat that he handled with ease.

His duty to his House and the North was admirable, you often find yourself marvelling at how much care he has for every single minute detail that most seemed to not notice. However, his duty to you was tenfold this… perhaps that is why Cregan decided to end his day earlier than usual.

Making the eager escape back to your shared bedchambers, just the thought of you turns him into a ball of giddiness, hidden behind the rugged nature that exudes him.

He forces himself to slow his movements down as he spots you, curled up in the middle of the bed, against the furs in your cotton nightgown. He silently curses the creaky, heavy, door of your bedchambers, the groan it lets out as he closes it shut causes you to gently stir from your sleep.

“Sorry, my dear.” He whispers brows pinched together as he takes off the furs that drape over his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shake your head in weak protest to his words, rubbing your eyes with a smile at the feeling of him sitting down on the edge of the bed. He admires you for a moment, how the warm fireplace casts an orangey light over your body, painting you like some sort of goddess.

“I wasn’t sleeping… just resting my eyes.” You whisper through a sleep-laden tone, your gaze meeting his own.

With a chuckle he cups the side of your face, his calloused palm resting against your cheek, his thumb smoothing over the space underneath your eyes.

“Really? Then why are you drooling all over the pillows love?” He teases, lips curled upwards into a smirk.

“I did not!” You gasp and he watches you quickly push yourself to sit up and check the pillows, rolling your eyes with a small huff.

“Maybe just a little.” He whispers, thumbing at the corner of your mouth, wiping away the remnants of a really good nap.

You shoot a playful glare up at him, moulding back into your comfortable position. A sigh escapes your lips as his fingers brush through your hair, his fingertips grazing against your scalp soothingly.

His eyes soften at the way you lean into his touch, how your body seems to completely relax once more. “How long have you been ‘resting your eyes’ for?” He asks, amusement threading through his gentle tone.

“A while… I lost track of time.” You reply with an almost sheepish smile, enjoying the way he begins to play with your hair which has become a little tussled from sleep. “I did try to wait up for you…”

“Hmm, that didn't last too long, did it?” He asks, looking down at you with adoration, his chest blooming with warmth as you nuzzle yourself against the roughness of his hand.

“No… but I did try.” You promise, making space for him as he shuffles closer to you, drawing your body to rest against him.

Cregan props himself up on his elbow, looking down at you with a tenderness in his eyes that completely melts you. He watches as you curl up against him whilst he brings the furs over your shoulders to protect you from the harsh winds that continue to howl through the castle.

"I appreciate the effort, my love, but you needn't tire yourself out waiting for me." He responds in a low and soothing tone, leaning down to press a soft kiss against your forehead.

"You know I would never want you to lose sleep on my account." Cregan continues, letting his lips linger against your forehead. His hand comes to rest against your hip, caressing the curve and dip of your waist.

He has always been so sweet to you, putting you before anything else and never once letting you doubt your place in his heart. It was a shock, especially after the rumours you had heard about him when in reality he was a huge softie... at least to you he is.

A moment of silence passes and he thinks you might’ve fallen back asleep, that is until you’re pulling him back down to steal a sweet kiss, which he is quick to deepen. He hums in contentment against your lips at the feeling of your fingers brushing through his hair.

“I’ve missed you today.” You whisper against his lips, the kiss tapering off into small loving pecks.

He grins, caressing your cheek as he pulls back slightly to look down at you. “Well… I’m right here now and I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon.” He replies, his thumb trailing along your bottom lip as he holds your face before capturing your lips once more.

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I need him!

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delulujuls · 6 months ago

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healing sessions | aegon II targaryen

hi, it's been a hot minute since i posted here, the last weeks were pretty intense for me and since i have a summer break now, i would like to start writing again and do it more regularly.

this is something new here and since new episode of hotd dropped, im in my westeros era, so please prepare for something other than my last shots (i will still write for f1, don't worry)

and lemme set this straight, im team black till the day i die but those green bastards are FINE AS HELL lmao. also @alicenthightcwer is author of those gifts

summary: aegon isn't dealing well with his father loss, but gladly there is someone who's gonna do her best to lift his spirit a bit

warnings: it's fluff without basically any plot, sister x brother romance so targaryens at their finest, mentions of death, depression, alcohol, drugs

pairing: sister!reader x aegon targaryen

The news of King Viserys's death did not surprise the residents of King's Landing. Nonetheless, the loss of the kind ruler dealt a painful blow to the city, which seemed to freeze in time with the king's passing. The capital plunged into mourning, and in addition to the banners, black flags were hoisted. Westeros was left without a king.

Viserys's successor, his second child and first son, Aegon Targaryen, had not been seen since the king's funeral. Aegon had lost not just a king but, most importantly, a father who, unfortunately for him, named him the future ruler on his deathbed.

Aegon would have gladly given the throne to Rhaenyra, his older half-sister. He would have done it without hesitation, even placing the crown on her head himself. Unfortunately, his mother Alicent, who was with her dying husband and heard his wish to elevate their eldest son to the throne, decided to fulfill her beloved husband's last wish at any cost.

To be honest, Aegon couldn't care less about being king. The young prince had not left his bed for several days, thick curtains blocking any light from outside. Occasionally, servants were allowed into his chambers, but only with wine and poppy milk. Aegon did not eat, allowed no one near him, and slept. Sleep was his salvation. Even the prostitutes, who once outnumbered the rats in the castle, were no longer summoned. The fiery prince had dimmed.

Alicent knew she needed to give her son time to grieve. She didn't bother him, only inquiring about his condition from the servants who managed to enter his chambers. It was enough for her to know that he was alive. Aegon's siblings dealt with their grief in their own ways, and his condition hardly impressed anyone. Except for Y/N, who, despite her own pain, worried about her brother. Sitting at breakfast, she silently observed Aegon's chair, which remained empty. After her husband's death, Alicent decreed that all meals, not just dinners, be taken together. The firstborn had not appeared at any of them since.

After a silent breakfast punctuated by brief, formal conversations, Y/N stood up and grabbed a plate, filling it with Aegon's favorite croissants and a portion of strawberries. She was done pretending nothing was wrong. This had to end.

"You shouldn't go to him," Alicent said quietly as the servants began clearing the table. "You know him, he'll come out when he's ready."

"Or he'll drink himself to death first," she replied, not even glancing at her mother. Alicent clasped her hands and pressed them to her lips, watching her family fall apart without knowing how to stop it.

Y/N left the dining room and went to Aegon's chambers. She knocked first, wanting to maintain decorum, but knowing it was futile, she grabbed the handle and pushed the heavy door open. Inside was darkness. Only a nearly spent candle by the bed gave off any light; the room looked like a cave. She blindly set the plate on a table, and with arms outstretched, she made her way to the windows. With a swift motion, she drew the curtains, and even she was blinded by the sudden light that flooded in. Not hearing any curses from her brother, Y/N looked over her shoulder. On the large bed, a figure lay curled up, back to her. From the waist down, he was covered with a sheet that blended with his pale skin. White hair in disarray touched the crumpled pillow. Aegon was either in a deep sleep or dead.

Y/N opened the curtains at every window, flinging some open. The room was stuffy, reeking of stale alcohol, sweat, and the sweet scent of poppy milk. She circled the bed, crouching opposite her brother. He was indeed asleep, but his breathing was shallow. His lips were cracked, stained with dried blood. His eyelashes were matted with tears, and dark circles marred his eyes. There was a bruise under his left eye that was different from the ones under his eyes, as it began to fade and turn from purple to green. Y/N remembered her mother, who had been rubbing her hand while sitting at the table for several days. She could only guess that Alicent was trying to shake her son off in her own way.

Aegon slept, lying on his side and hugging himself, seeking comfort only he could provide. Y/N brushed the tangled strands from his forehead and kissed him. Aegon did not stir.

The princess knew he wouldn't allow servants to tend to him. She left the room quietly, asking the maids to prepare a hot bath quickly and silently. Y/N returned and sat beside him on the bed, gently stroking his head.

Aegon wasn't the bad person many thought him to be. True, he was unique, and in a room full of people, he was impossible to ignore, but no one is born evil. Now, Aegon was simply engulfed in darkness from which he couldn't free himself. The slender, sticky fingers of depression had tightened around his throat, allowing only alcohol to pass.

After some time, a maid stood by the bed, whispering that the bath was ready, nervously glancing at the sleeping prince, afraid of waking him up. Y/N thanked and dismissed her, then leaned in and kissed her brother's forehead again.

"Aegon..." she began softly, close to his ear. "Wake up, I have strawberries for you."

He furrowed his brow, feeling her hair tickle his face. At first, he thought it was a dream or a drunken hallucination, but when he felt the urge to sneeze, he wiped his face with his hand. When he opened his heavy eyelids and saw how bright it was, he pulled the pillow over his head.

"I said no one was to come in," he muttered, his voice muffled by the pillow. "I'll have you killed for this."

"It's nice to see you too, considering I haven't seen you in over a week," she replied, sitting back on his bed and placing the breakfast she brought on the table beside him.

Hearing the familiar voice and wanting to ensure it wasn't a drunken hallucination, Aegon removed the pillow from his face, clutching it to his chest. From squinted eyes, his violet gaze spotted a well-known figure.

"Y/N?" he asked hoarsely, his voice betraying that he'd only spoken to chase away servants in the past days.

"Yes, it's me," she nodded. "And if you still want to kill me, you'll have to get out of bed, which I doubt you can do."

Aegon sighed, more of a grunt of dissatisfaction. He wanted to cover his face with the pillow again, but his sister took it and easily pulled it from his arms.

"Did you come here just to make my life more miserable?" he groaned, looking at her with displeasure.

"I came to stop what you thought was the best solution," Y/N explained. "I brought you breakfast and a hot bath."

"I don't want breakfast or a bath," Aegon replied, turning onto his other side. "And you can leave. Tell mother I'm not dead yet."

"I'm not leaving until you get out of bed," she informed him, staring at his back.

"Then enjoy your stay," he muttered, closing his eyes again.

Y/N sighed. She knew it might be hard, but in a few days, she had almost forgotten her brother's character. And Aegon's character was sometimes the textbook definition of a Targaryen.

"I came here because I want to help you," Y/N began, feeling a lump in her throat. "No one talks to each other, and when they do, it's just some fucking formalities. Aemond flies on Vhagar every day, Helaena spends hours in the garden with her books, Rhaenyra has been on Dragonstone since the funeral, mother is banging with Cole at every turn, and I don't even know if you're alive," she said in one breath, feeling tears prickling her eyes. Only when she said it all out loud did she realize what was happening. It wasn't just about informing Aegon; it was about making herself understand. The truth hurt her even more than she expected.

Hearing his sister's trembling and upset voice, Aegon sighed and turned onto his back, sitting up and leaning against the headboard. Only now could his sister see his full appearance. It was the image of a boy deep in mourning and struggling with unimaginable pain.

For a moment, they exchanged looks in silence until Aegon glanced at the nightstand beside his bed.

"Did you bring strawberries?"

She reached for the plate and placed it on the bed next to her brother. Aegon weakly lifted his hand and took one, eating it whole, including the stem.

"Croissants with filling?" he asked, chewing. Y/N nodded again.

"Nut and chocolate," she answered. Aegon silently took a croissant and slowly began to eat.

Y/N quickly wiped her cheeks as two single tears escaped from the corners of her eyes. The young prince looked at his sister, who also seemed different than he remembered from a few days ago. Her hair was still neatly combed, with a few small braids woven into it. The dark red dress, which he thought he had seen her wear before, now seemed to hang a bit loosely on her shoulders and wrinkle at the stomach. The color of the dress reminded him of the bloody cuticles around her nails, which she must have bitten out of nerves. Her face, still beautiful, was now paler than usual, almost as white as her hair. Her swollen eyes lacked their usual sparkle, and her lips seemed to have completely forgotten what a smile was.

"How are you feeling?" he asked after a moment when he had finished eating. Y/N pushed the plate closer to him, and as he reached for another croissant, she only shrugged.

"I'm sad. And I sleep poorly," she replied, staring out the window.

"You know, poppy milk—", "I won't drink it," she interrupted him.

Aegon raised his hands in a defensive gesture, taking another bite of the croissant.

"And you?" she asked, looking at him. "How are you feeling?"

He also shrugged.

"I don't even know. Now I think I feel nothing," he said, looking back at her. "Most of the time I feel nothing, except when a wave of sadness hits, and then I cry like a child until I fall asleep again."

Y/N nodded silently. She could tell that Aegon had spent many hours crying.

He put the last piece of croissant in his mouth and reached for a strawberry, handing it to his sister. She took it and ate it, nodding with appreciation.

"Not bad, right?" Aegon said, seeing her reaction. "Unusually sweet for this time of year."

Y/N let out an involuntary snort, lowering her head. Their father was dead, the country was without a king, the family was falling apart, and this idiot was talking about how great the strawberries were.

"They really are good, I don't know what you mean," he replied, taking the last strawberry and popping it into his mouth. The girl smiled, for the first time in a long while, then looked at her brother.

"I miss you, you know?"

"I'm not dead yet," he said sarcastically, rubbing his face with his hands. Y/N set the plate aside, and Aegon extended his arm toward her, silently inviting a hug. The girl shook her head and stood up.

"Maybe I miss you, but not enough to hug you after so many days without a bath," she replied, nodding her head towards the bathroom.

"You've got to be kidding," he snorted, but she shook her head again and pointed to the bathroom. Aegon sighed and slid off the bed, looking at her reproachfully the entire time. When he stood, the sheet slipped off completely, and he, naked and unbothered, walked unsteadily toward the bathroom. Y/N asked the servants to change his bedding and clean the room while she locked herself in the bathroom with him. As he sat in the water, she perched on the edge of the tub, rolling up the sleeves of her dress.

She reached for the nearby comb and slowly began to untangle his matted hair. They both remained silent, as words were completely unnecessary at that moment. After a while, she put the comb down and picked up the sponge, wetting it and pouring water over his hair. Aegon closed his eyes and tilted his head forward.

Y/N grabbed the soap and lathered it in her hands, adding a few drops of lavender oil. Aegon smiled as the familiar, pleasant scent filled the air, while she began to wash his hair. He sat there with his eyes closed, allowing his sister to take care of him. Aegon felt that of everyone in the family, only Y/N truly cared about him. Despite being the second youngest sibling, just after Helaena, he had always gotten along best with her. They were almost inseparable, always sitting together at feasts, stuffing sweets into their pockets to eat later in the garden when they managed to escape the table. Rhaenyra, their half-sister, was always the oldest and most composed. Aemond, younger than Aegon, was calm and collected but could stab a knife into someone’s neck without blinking if provoked. Helaena lived in her own world, surrounded by books, flowers, and maesters who had tried to help her ever since they noticed something was off with the growing princess. Aegon was often irreformable, acting and speaking first and thinking later. When he was younger, he was incredibly unruly, the mastermind behind every wild idea that Y/N almost always eagerly supported. The young princess loved her brother, who always tried to make her smile. Aegon loved his sister and knew that of all the people in the castle, she was the only one he would kill for and die for either.

Young prince winced quietly when Y/N, massaging his tense shoulders, ran her thumb over a particularly tight muscle.

"You're as hard as a rock," she said, continuing to massage his back. Aegon smiled to himself.

"Not quite yet," he joked.

She rolled her eyes and soaked the sponge again, rinsing the soap off his back with warm water. As she got up to stoke the fire, Aegon submerged himself in the water, washing the soap off himself and his hair. After a moment, he sat up straight and wiped his face off, leaning on the sides of the tub. He silently watched his sister, whose silhouette was highlighted by the flickering fire in the fireplace. Her white, slightly wavy hair cascaded down her back. The young prince smiled and bit his lip. Blood of my blood.

When Y/N finished tending to the fire, she stood up and dusted off her hands. She looked up, feeling her brother's gaze on her. He watched her in silence.

"Care to join?" he asked, glancing at the tub before looking back at her.

She shook her head, stepping closer and looking at the murky water. "I think I'll pass this time."

Aegon extended his hand toward her, and she gave him hers, which he pressed to his lips, planting a wet kiss on her skin. She smiled at his gesture.

"I'll go dismiss the servants," she said, stroking his cheek. "Make sure you wash away all the sadness."

The princess left the bathroom and returned to the chambers. They looked much better now, with two servants finishing changing the bed linens. When they were done, she thanked and dismissed them. She approached the large wardrobe, looking for clean clothes for her brother. She planned to get him outside for a walk, even if just a short one.

She placed the clothes on a chair and sat on the bed, running her hand over the freshly made bedding. Shortly after, Aegon emerged from the bathroom, not bothering to cover himself with even a towel.

When he stood in the doorway, Y/N involuntarily looked up at him. She looked him up and down, causing Aegon to smile.

"Like what you see?" he asked, approaching the bed without taking his eyes off her.

"I'm just checking if you washed yourself properly," she retorted, lifting her head to meet his gaze when he stood right in front of her.

Aegon still wore a faint smile as he cupped her face, his thumb stroking her cheek. His pale skin had gained a bit of color from the hot bath, but he had goosebumps from the cool, fresh breeze coming through the windows. The dark circles under his eyes were still visible, but his gaze was now clear and certain, darkening as he was looking at his sister.

"I missed you too," he said after a moment of silence, during which they exchanged looks. He brushed his thumb over her lower lip. "Make love with me."

It wasn't a command or even a request. It was a quiet murmur filled with desperation, almost sounding like a plea. Aegon needed to feel her warmth, needed to feel something other than the alcoholic breath of death that placed cold kisses on him.

She silently stood from the bed, and before he could say anything, she touched his cheek and kissed him. Aegon wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, returning the kiss. Blindly, he started to fumble with the ties of her dress, but seeing his struggle, she began undressing herself. He cupped her face in his hands, kissing her tenderly. When she loosened her corset, Aegon grabbed the bottom of her gown and quickly pulled it over her head, tossing it aside. She shivered at the sudden chill but soon felt Aegon's warm body against her skin. He smiled into her mouth.

"You're so soft," he whispered between kisses, holding her tightly as if he wanted to lock her inside his ribcage. "Go on, lie down."

She obeyed, positioning herself comfortably on a pile of pillows. Aegon hovered over her, kissing her gently. Their hands tangled in each other's hair, touching and grasping every bit of skin they could reach. Lips swollen from kissing released soft sighs and moans mixed with tender words.

Aegon could be gentle, delicate, and caring. He wasn't like this with the whores he sometimes brought to his chambers to relieve himself and kill boredom. But he loved his sister dearly and would never harm her.

The young prince couldn't remember the first time his sister came to his chambers and stayed the night. It was probably before their father's illness. One autumn, Aegon caught a terrible cold. He couldn't sleep at night, and his cough kept the entire western wing of the castle awake. One night, a sleepy Y/N went to his room, silently took the nearby laying ointment, sat on his hips, and began rubbing it on his chest. Aegon, feverish, thought he was hallucinating. But when he woke up the next morning and saw his naked sister asleep in his bed, he knew the events of the previous night hadn't been a fever dream.

Now, too, Aegon had to think twice if the soft body in his arms was really there or just a trick of his drunken mind.

"Are you real?" he whispered, pulling away from her lips and looking at her face.

"You'll have to find out for yourself," Y/N replied just as softly.

Aegon smiled involuntarily and hurriedly disappeared between her thighs.

At dinner, not only Aegon's chair was empty. The chair next to his, Y/N's, was also vacant.

Aemond glanced sideways at his sister, who tried to hide her smile behind her hair. Otto looked at her as well, then at her mother.

"Helaena?" Alicent spoke, looking at the blushing face of her daughter. "Is something wrong?"

"Aegon is feeling much better," she said. The young princess knew this first because the garden she particularly liked was just below her brother's chambers, and the windows, this time, were wide open.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #aegon the second #hotd fanfic #hotd one shot

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klaus-littlestwolf · 5 months ago

Text

Unconsummated -Aemond T.

Aemond finds himself quickly falling in love during the week long celebration of Aegon and Helaena’s wedding. Sadly his perfect lady is already married to a Baratheon. Happily, the idiot has yet to consummate their marriage as he never wanted to marry Y/n Arryn in the first place.

Aemond sets out to take the sweet girl for himself and he will not take ‘No’ for an answer…

It was much too loud for her tastes.

Y/n’s husband lived for parties like this, being honored that he was invited to the wedding of Aegon and Helaena and enjoying himself in every way he could. He was drunk 10 minutes after the ceremony and would be for the entirety of the next 6 days that the week long party went on for.

Y/n left the room as soon as it was acceptable for her to do so, her husband being locked on another noble woman, one who would happily spread her legs for him in a dark hallway later that night and she could do without the embarrassment of that. She ended up locating the library on her walk through the castle and she couldn’t help but stop. The room was huge, 10x the size of her husbands library as his father, his fathers father and on and on before had never been able to read (and neither could her husband).

He forced her to read all of his ravens to him in private as if he believed that no one was aware that he couldn’t read them himself. Y/n ended up knowing quite a lot about the houses and their leaders, her husband threatening to kill her if she ever breathed a private word of it. She was privy to quite a bit of sensitive information because of his illiteracy, knowing that many houses had secretly sworn to follow Aegon as the true born King or people like her husband who were sworn to Rhaenyra as the King commanded. She honestly didn’t care who ran the realm, all Y/n cared about was her small life, her duties, and her children (of which her husband didn’t seem to care to give her). He was too busy with his whores to give her a child.

She found herself a book that interested her, it was a book on High Valyrian which she had always wanted to learn. She had been teaching herself for only about 20 minutes before she heard a throat clear and she jumped up in fear, the book landing on the floor as her eyes met with one purple one staring back at her.

‘My Prince! I am so sorry! I did not know anyone would be here while the celebration went on…’

He stared at her for a moment before responding. ‘No reason to apologize, I understand more than anyone not wanting to celebrate with drunken strangers.’

‘Thank you for your hospitality…I will leave you be then-‘

‘No!’ He insisted, startling her a bit. ‘I’m sorry, I mean no, you don’t need to leave. Please, sit.’ He moved to take the seat beside her, picking up her book and looking at it before smiling. ‘Teaching yourself High Valyrian? Impressive…I am Aemond by the way, might I know my beautiful company’s name?’

‘Y/n Baratheon, my Prince. It is an honor.’

The two of them spent the next 3 hours by the fire in the Library just talking. They got to know each other very well and Aemond even gave her her first lesson in High Valyrian which he admitted she was a quick study at. It wasn’t until Aemond asked about her family that any of their conversation became uncomfortable.

‘You’re married to the eldest Baratheon son, are you not? I knew he had a wife but I did not know he had brought her with him while he-’ Aemond stopped himself as if he was unsure if she knew what her husband was up to.

‘I am aware of his indiscretions. It is how he has always been, nothing to concern yourself with my Prince.’ Aemond’s face was stoic as always but she sensed sympathy like she got from most other people. ‘He never wanted to marry me, his father wanted my name and the alliance of certain supporters. He had hoped marrying me to his son would stop his…activities and make him happy to have a family…he has no interest in such things however and I am left 6 months after our marriage unloved and childless…I’m sorry…you don’t care about that.’ She laughed though Aemond could tell it was hollow.

‘Your husband is an idiot if he does not want you my lady. I have known you for mere hours and I know that you are a smart, kind hearted girl without a judgmental bone in your body. You would be a good mother, of that I am sure.’ Aemond had no clue where that came from. Seeing this girl all alone and feeling unloved was breaking his heart…what is she doing to him?

‘Thank you my Prince, you are too kind.’

Y/n retired not long after, in bed hours before her husband joined her, collapsing into the bed in his clothes and for once she did not move to take care of him, Y/n left him in his clothes and on his chest in the bed.

Her days went on like that for most of the week. She would have breakfast and enjoy a walk in the gardens before finding her way to the library again and spending the rest of the entire day with Aemond. They both made an appearance at the party every night as was expected before abandoning the noisy, drunken mess and enjoying each others company again.

Aemond continued teaching her Valyrian and they could hold conversations now (albeit simple ones) as she was a fast learner. He also told her all about Vhagar, loving her interest in his dragon where most ladies were terrified.

She had raged when he told her of how he really lost his eye, furious that his nephew would do such a thing, all of them. She also condemned the ladies in the court who had made Aemond feel ugly just because of his injured eye. She swore to the heavens that he was one of if not the most beautiful man she had ever seen and she would not take his negative words into account.

Aemond had quickly come to love Y/n and she loved him as well, they both knew but neither of them crossed the line to say it. Though as her husband had never consummated their marriage Aemond had decided that he was going to ask his father to annul the marriage so that he could marry her instead. It would be a good match for his family, Y/n originally being an Arryn, and he knew that her father would take insult from the Baratheons for not taking care of his daughter or making their marriage legal. He was determined to convince her that night, the second to last day of the celebration, however his soon to be Princess never arrived.

Aemond waited for over an hour before searching the party. He found her husband, nearly as drunk as Aegon and with his tongue down a ladies throat but Y/n was not there.

He then left the castle and walked the gardens in search of her as he knew she enjoyed the Red Keeps gardens. After about 5 minutes he found her sitting on a wall overlooking the beach.

‘You are difficult to find, my dear.’ She jumped, turning slightly but not looking at him, turning back to the view.

‘I am sorry my Prince. I have enjoyed our time together but it must come to an end, please forgive me but I wish to be left alone now.’ He was stunned, unsure of how to respond but knowing that he wasn’t about to leave her like this.

‘Whatever I have done, please forgive me Byka Zokla? I do not-‘ (Little Wolf)

‘You have done nothing my Prince! It is I who is in the wrong. I have led you to believe that we could be friends and that was wrong of me. My job is to be there for my husband and I have not been doing my duty-‘

‘Your duty? What about him? He has not taken care of you as is his job as your husband and protector! You’re not waiting on him hand and foot anymore so he is upset, yes? Please? Do not push me away Y/n, I can help you to-‘ he cut himself off as he turned her head to make her look at him and he finally saw what she was hiding from him. Her right eye was black and blue, her bottom lip was split in 2 places and her throat was bruised, clearly in the shape of hands. ‘Oh my Love! No! This will not stand! Come with me.’ He insisted, holding out his hand. She hesitated but he looked down at her softly, giving her time to decide. ‘Trust me?’ After another few seconds Y/n took his hand and allowed him to whisk her off and they arrived in the Small Councils meeting room where the Queen walked in not a moment later having been fetched by a guard for her son.

‘Aemond…what is the meaning of this?!’ Alicent snapped, storming over to the girl and seemingly thinking that her son had done it but she changed her tune when the girl flinched away and hid behind him instead.

‘Mother. This is the girl I spoke to you about, her husband has proved…ungallant. I wish to take her as my bride.’ Alicent was looking over his ladies face when she fully understood what he had said and jerked her head up.

‘My son, she is married already. You cannot just take another man’s wife, even as a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You-‘

‘Their marriage has not been consummated.’ She stopped speaking and looked between them in shock.

‘Well…that changes things…she will need to testify it to the King and he will need to annul the marriage before anything else can happen. It will take time. I will speak to the Hand and start the process for it, we will find a room for her here to keep her safe from now on.’ Alicent turned to Y/n and held out her hand. ‘Come, let’s get you out of those dirty, bloody clothes and put you to bed.’

‘I will come and say “Goodnight” in a bit. You have a bath and relax…I will take care of you, I promise.’ Aemond swore, kissing her hand and watching her blush before she walked off with his mother.

Aemond straightened himself as she left the room and turned to head back to the party where he almost immediately found the man he was looking for.

Y/n’s husband was holding a full goblet of wine with his arm around a ladies waist looking quite content. Aemond moved beside him to grab himself a cup of wine, purposefully causing the idiot to bump into him.

‘Fuck! I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.’ He laughed obnoxiously and Aemond found himself wondering how Y/n ever stood being around him at all.

‘Evidently.’ He rolled his eyes and could instantly see that this man didn’t appreciate the action.

‘You may be a Prince but you’re still only a second son, and no where close to Daddies favorite. Watch yourself. I am the head of Storm’s End and soon enough the Vale, you are nothing and even less than that without your Dragon behind you.’ The man was clearly drunk as fuck but Aemond was happy with that. It would make this easier…

Aemond smirked as he leaned in close, the young Tully girl that he had had on his arm long gone, not willing to upset a Prince, let alone the one eyed prince himself. ‘I fucked your wife.’ He mumbled, close enough that only he could hear and he absolutely did.

‘What the fuck did you say?’ He snarled, eyes nearly catching fire in his instant rage but Aemond stayed calm. He needed to control himself for this to work.

‘I fucked…your wife…Gods knows you weren’t doing it. Such a lonely girl, desperate for a man’s affection and all she was given was an insolent child. It’s pathetic. Don’t worry though, soon enough she will be raising my son and she won’t be worried about you anymore.’ The boy was practically shaking in his rage, fists clenched and men were beginning to take notice, several of the women moving to alert the guards so Aemond would need to do this quickly. ‘Give it 9 months and everyone will know exactly who your wife strayed from you with, the silver haired boy suckling on her tits will be evidence enough. I’m sure with enough words to the King I can ensure my son will inherit all of your lands when you die. Too bad you weren’t man enough to impregnate her yourself or y-‘ He was finally cut off by a truly pathetic punch to his face but he played into it, falling dramatically to the ground and biting his tongue, spitting blood out to make it seem worse than it had been.

He was grabbed instantly and held back from coming at Aemond again who smirked up at him, the boy only seeming to now realize what had happened. ‘Chain this drunken fool and take him to the Black Cells for-‘

‘No!’ Aemond snapped, cutting off his Grandsire. ‘It was me that he assaulted and as a Prince of the realm it is my decision what happens to him.’ He declared and though Otto looked at him strangely he nodded nonetheless. He reached out, grabbing the collar of the drunk and yanked him forward, dragging him from the party and outside through the front gate.

‘Aemond-‘

‘He dies tonight, would you like to argue?’ The one eyed Prince hissed at his Grandsire who knew not to argue with him in this state.

Vhagar peeked her eyes open at the sound of men approaching her beach, seeing her rider dragging along a man that was trying very hard to get away or hurt him making her bare her teeth and hiss instantly.

‘Dokimarvos Vhagar! Umbās!’ He spoke to her and she sat her head up and waited for her rider to speak. *Pay Attention Vhagar! Wait!*

‘This is a message to anyone that thinks to defy me or Gods forbid, harm the people I care about. I am not merciful, you can find mercy with my family but not here. Anyone who wants to disagree with this will not end up in the Black cells, but with my Dragon as their punishment!’ Aemond ignored Otto who was trying to stop his rushed decision. ‘Dohaerās Vhagar! Kisās!’ *Obey Vhagar! Eat!*

Everyone watched on as the giant she-dragon lifted her head over the abusive asshole and opened her mouth wide before chomping down on the man and seeming to swallow him whole which had several people screaming and one man actually fainting.

Aemond was proud of himself, he had saved his girl and it barely took an hour.

He quickly made his way back into the Red Keep and up to the room that he knew his mother had put his soon-to-be wife in. As he entered, knocking softly as to not frighten her, he saw her in a sleep shift and he couldn’t help but stare. His girl was beautiful and she was going to be all his now.

‘Did you have a nice bath?’ He asked, moving to pull the blankets back for her and enjoying her soft blush as she crawled into the bed.

‘It was very relaxing. I’ve never had servants to wash me like that before.’ She teased, though Aemond was surprised by that.

‘You are a lady, are you not? How-‘

‘My mother took care of us as children and when we grew she insisted that we were able to bathe ourselves. My husband however, did not want anyone seeing me in a state of undress…it was strange but nice I suppose. A lady could get used to such treatment.’ Her soft laugh was everything Aemond loved as he reached out and cupped the side of her face.

‘You will get used to it. You are to be my wife, and my wife will have the best of everything. I will bathe you myself if it brings you happiness.’ He teased her, kissing the side of her head before standing again. ‘Get some sleep my lady, no one will bother you, you have my word-‘

‘Will you stay?’ She asked and though he was startled he did not let it show, knowing she was still probably feeling afraid after all that had happened, especially now that she’s in a strange place that she’s sure to never leave again. She would need to get used to being his and knowing that she is completely safe here, she would learn to trust what he said when he told her that he would never let anyone harm her again-let alone another husband. Aemond removed his shoes and coat, as well as his weapons before crawling onto the other side and feeling her head rest on his shoulder. He was careful not to touch any of her injuries as he let her drift off to sleep. He knew his mother would be upset at his sleeping here but he didn’t care. Y/n would be his wife by the weeks end and he would give her everything that bitch of a “husband” could not.

Aemond Targaryen Masterlist

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youraverageaemondsimp · 7 months ago

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“Thou Shalt Not Covet.” // Angel!Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Human!Reader

Summary: An angel's duty is to protect and guide humans; never to desire them, for it is a sin. Yet Aemond, the most trusted angel of God, finds himself yearning and desiring for you, a human.

WARNINGS: nsfw, mdni, smut, dubious consent(?), afab! human!fem!reader x angel!aemond, masturbation (m.) unprotected p in v sex, tiddy sucking, fingering, cunnilingus/oral (f. receiving), forbidden relationship, body worship, blasphemy(?), creampie, cumming inside breeding kink, slightly disturbing content at the end, religious themes. + NOT PROOFREAD

WC: 4.5k

A/N: so I'm officially breaking my hiatus with this piece, I know I haven't posted for over two months and I apologize for that! Exams and everything practically ate my life away! // divider creds to @cafekitsune

God's most trusted angel, Aemond Targaryen, was no ordinary angel. He was sincere, always performing his duties without fail. He was respected amongst his peers, the most obedient angel of god.

Lately there have been rumours about the curse of being God's favourite, whispers about the old tale that all knew very well started resurfacing, the tale of the fallen angel. An incident that is now used as a way to warn angels from disobeying God and trudging the path of temptation.

Must all angels that were favoured by God fall into the way of sin? It has happened before, it might happen again.

Aemond decided that he would never be like that, he wants to prove that he is nothing like the fallen angel and how being God's favourite angel is not a curse, but rather a blessing.

And he did just that. Until a day arrived when he was sent to the land below on an urgent mission.

Aemond was reluctant to descend down to the land of people but he had to on the order of God, his mission was simple, to guide humanity through the famine that was occurring along with the drought that was caused by the devil to wreak havoc amongst the villagers. Messing with God's treasured creations has always been the devil's hobby after all.

And so he disguised himself as a human, helping men, women, children alike to recover, he blessed the land with fertility so that the land could produce crops once again. It was not an easy task, he had spent many weeks on the land, learning how humans function and go about their life which was quite a contrast to angels.

He also learnt how frail the human body is, how much energy is required to perform tasks and an unfamiliar feeling of hunger which he never felt when he was an angel. Every sensation was new to him but he overcame all the difficulties in order to finish his duty.

At least, that is what he had thought…

“Ser?! Are you okay?!” A voice shrieked in shock as he blinked his eye open to see an unfamiliar face with the look of concern staring down at him. You noticed how pale his face was and how dull his features looked, his lips were dry and chapped.

You were just taking a walk through the forest in search of medicinal herbs when you encountered this man lying unconscious in the middle of the path which made you panic thinking he was dead. You sighed in relief when he opened his eye.

“What happened to me?” He asks confused and you furrow your brows, “You fainted.” You tell him and he sighs “Why? I have been eating well though.” He mutters to himself and you clear your throat, you noticed how his face showed signs of dehydration earlier so you end up asking him a question “Did you drink water?” to which he replies with a “No, why?”

You pinch the bridge of your nose in disbelief, “Water is an essential thing to survive, you fainted because of dehydration.” You explain his situation to him and he lets out an annoyed sigh, “Ugh, why are human bodies so frail and require so much material to sustain oneself?” He grumbles and you stare at him confused.

“Whatever, drink this.” You give your pouch of water and he drinks it greedily unknowingly, emptying the entire sac, he hands it back to you. Aemond tries standing up but immediately stumbles, however you catch him just in time so he doesn't fall. “It seems the dehydration was worse than we thought, my house is nearby, let me take care of you.” You offer him help and he just simply nods, “Lean onto me okay?” You instruct him and he does as you say. You lead him to your house.

It was a small house amidst the woods but not further inside, you opened the wooden door with one hand and pushed it with your foot and led both you and the man inside. You opened the door to your small bedroom and took him inside, helping him lay on the bed.

“Please rest comfortably.” You smile at him and he nods, “I will go and prepare medicinal tea so you can recover.” You inform him before getting up and reaching the exit.

“Wait!” He calls out and you turn around with a questioning look, “May I get your name?” he asks politely and you give him a small smile, “It's Y/N” You tell him and he smiles back at you, “ ‘Y/N’ such a pretty name.” He mutters to himself before looking at you, “Thank you Y/N.” He appreciates you genuinely which makes your heart flutter and you give him a nod. “What is your name?” You ask out of courtesy “Aemond.” He replies with a slight smile and your eyes widen, “Oh like the angel!” You affirm and he nods, “Like the angel, yes.”

“You have such an amazing name, that too it being after God's favourite angel.” You compliment him genuinely and he nods shyly. You take that as a cue to leave the room and prepare the tea for him.

Tying your beige apron; you quickly pull out the jar of dried hibiscus petals from the wooden shelf before taking a few of the petals and grinding them slightly, you added those grinded petals into the bot of boiling water and let it simmer for a minute before blowing off the fire and straining the liquid into a wooden cup.

You carry the hot beverage into the room only to find Aemond asleep, ‘his body must've been overly worked without any water’ you smile to yourself before placing the cup down onto the table, the slight noise startling and waking Aemond up from his slumber.

“Oh I apologise, I did not know that the noise would startle you.” You say in a slightly amused voice and he shakes his head, “It's alright.” he replies. “I bought the tea, you can drink it when it cools down.” You point at the cup on the table next to the bed and he nods, “Thank you.” He appreciates your hospitality.

You give him a small smile and he returns it, and then the room falls silent, awkward tension filling the air. You clear your throat in an attempt to break the tension before speaking up “So… I've never seen you around this area before or in the town, are you new here?” You question him.

“Mhm, I just recently got into this town after hearing the news of famine spreading here.” He answers truthfully, he had been going around the area into multiple villages and towns, solving the famine.

“Ah yes, there has been a shortage of food supplies since our land did not produce any crop this year.” You say sadly, thinking about how all the once healthy people in the town now look starved and unhealthy because of the shortage of food.

Aemond notices your sadness immediately and he grabs your hand, wanting to reassure you but the moment his skin comes in contact with yours, he feels electricity shoot up his spine that makes him retreat his hand immediately.

“Are you okay?” You ask concerned, reaching out for his hand. His breath hitches when you touch him, you examine his hand thinking something happened to it, all the while he's trying to control his breathing.

Why does his body feel hot when you touch him?

He gives you a quick nod and pulls his hand away from your grip and grabs the drink in order for the gesture to not seem rude, but luckily for him you don't dwell on it too much.

“Famines and Drought occur when the devil wants to mess with God, something he does for attention while thousands of people are affected.” Aemond grits his teeth, thinking about the reason why many humans are dying and you look at him confused, “And in these times of difficulty, many forget to pray, because all of their time is spent surviving, which further weakens the protection of the land.” He continues.

“So what do we do?” You ask confused.

“Pray, I was going to go to the centre of the village and start praying so that the rain falls tomorrow, but… I ended up like this.” He says embarrassed.

“Do you think God will really help us?” You question and he's shocked and offended by that question but he holds his composure, “He will. Have faith in him.” He tells you and you nod.

“Since you said you were new, you are free to stay in this house, besides you need to recover as well.” You offer him and his eye widens, “I can't, you've already done too much for me.” He refuses but you shake your head, “It's alright aemond, I was starting to stray from the path of God due to the recent problems, but after meeting you, I'm somehow comforted that everything will be alright, a feeling which I haven't felt since the start of the drought.” You admit honestly and he stares at you in awe.

And so you let him stay in your house.

You and Aemond have gotten undoubtedly closer, realising how you both held the same values and opinions, you helped Aemond spread the word of God and soon just like he said, the rain fell and the land began to recover.

You both were currently looking outside the window as the gentle drizzle of rain fell elegantly outside, making the lush greenery of the trees stand out and the smell of wet mud provided a deep comfort to your soul.

“You were right, Aemond.” You smiled at him and he smiled back, using his angelic powers in his human body exhausts him out, especially since the body of the human is so frail and weak, so he often has to recover in your house, but you just thought that it was because of dehydration like the first time.

You looked outside in awe, meanwhile Aemond stared at you instead, your face extremely beautiful as if you had been specially crafted by God himself, your eyes shone as brightly as the stars in the night sky and your hair that cascaded down your back like a waterfall. He couldn't stop admiring you.

He watched as your lips parted when you let out a satisfied sigh, wondering how they'd taste, would they be sweet as they look? He wanted to taste you.

His eye widened in realisation at his own behaviour and thoughts, mind spiralling down a hole knowing that he shouldn't be thinking this way, his closed his eye and took a deep breath, trying to push off all the feelings away but when he opened his eye back again, he was faced with you who looked at him ever so concerningly.

The warm feeling in his heart only growing stronger each and every moment. “Aemond? Is everything alright?” You ask and he nods, “Yeah everything is fine, it's just..” ‘I wanna kiss you.’ He wants to say it so badly, “I just feel under the weather.” He lies.

He lied.

Aemond never lied.

You find it odd but brush it off and leave the matter at that, focusing on the rain outside once again watching as the droplets trailed down the window.

Aemond feels hot on the inside, a burning sensation of itchiness that urges to be scratched, he excuses himself and goes into the bedroom, saying he needs rest, once again, a lie, he shuts the door to the room and you're left alone in the living space.

Deciding not to think much, you began cooking lunch, making soup for the hundredth time.

Aemond leans against the door, breathing heavily as his body grows hotter and hotter every moment, there's a weird sensation between his legs that makes it hard for him to focus on anything else, he looks at the bulge in his pants and touches it, wincing at the electricity that shoots through him.

It's painful.

He knows that whatever he's feeling is wrong.

But it's too painful to bear.

He closes his eyes trying to collect himself but he cannot contain himself, and so he slowly grabs the bulge giving it slight squeezes for it to stop the feeling but not enough to make it go away.

Why is the human body like this?

Why couldn't he control his desires like he did when he was in his angel form?

He slowly pushed his hand down the material of the breeches and held his cock, he grips it which makes him choke out a moan at the sensation.

It felt good.

And so he slowly starts stroking it up and down, curiously experimenting by brushing his thumb against the tip which causes him to whimper, he clasps his own mouth shut at the noise he made but doesn't stop stroking himself.

Muffled noises of soft moans fill the room as he touches himself wondering why the feeling isn't going away, he strokes himself faster which causes him to throw his head back against the door with a loud thud.

“... Aemond?” Your voice makes him stop all of his movements, “Y-yeah?” He replies, trying to sound normal, “I'm making soup, is that okay?” You inquired for his opinion and he replied a choked “Yes.”

He hears your footsteps walk away from the door and he continues to stroke himself, the memory of you calling out his name doing wonders to his imagination as he pictures you moaning his name beneath him, he rubs himself faster, grip tightening on his cock envisioning that he's fucking into your cunt instead of his own hand.

And before he can comprehend the imagery; he feels an immense amount of pleasure shoot through his entire body, making him see white and let out a loud muffled moan of your name o as he feels the wet liquid spurt out of his cock and onto his hand.

He's trembling by the time he's done, looking down at his now unclean hand, white liquid dripping down his palm, the situation of what he had done weighing heavily upon him, the feeling of dread seeping into his body- and so he lets out a soft sigh.

What has he done?

He quickly finds a cloth to wipe himself off and uses the water in the bowl beside the table to wash his hands, he sees his own reflection in the water, feeling disgusted at what he had done.

But it felt so good.

He quickly leaves the room to find you crouching down, tending to the fire as you prepare the soup on top of the heated slab. “Need help?” He asks and you flinch, looking at him with a flushed face, “Hm? O-Oh no need.” You look away quickly. He frowns wondering what happened, you stand up and reassure him that nothing has happened and push him towards the table to sit down. You slightly rub your thighs to ease the tension between them.

You couldn't focus; After all- you just overheard what he did inside the room, the muffled moans, the strokes, and when he called out your name. You heard it all.

The wooden doors aren't really good at covering noises.

A few days passed by quickly after that, the town began to see changes as the crops began sprouting quickly, and soon Aemond's mission was finally completed. Which meant he had to return to the heavens.

But he did not want to.

He actually feels guilty returning to heaven after what he did with his human body.

He was slowly putting his clothes away, ‘packing’ to leave when the door opens which reveals you. Your eyes glance over to the sack of clothes and you quickly realise what's happening.

“You're leaving.” It wasn't a question, but rather a statement which leaves your lips weighed heavily with sadness. Aemond felt something inside him crack as he looked at your solemn expression.

“I have something I want to confess before I leave.” He speaks up and your eyes glint with hope, wondering if he'll confess his feelings to you finally- “I'm an angel.”

…

“Aemond, now isn't the time to be joking.” You furrow your brows but he shakes his head, coming closer to you and holding your hand, “I am not, I came here on a mission to solve humanity's problems and now I have to return to the heavens.” He can't stop speaking, no matter how much the voice inside him tells him that he shouldn't be revealing his true identity to humans. “Aemond, this is not funny-”

“I'm not trying to be funny, I am not lying, here I'll prove it to you.” He lets go of your hand, and moves to the window, and your eyes widen as the sudden sunny weather darkens and rain begins to fall.

You shall not reveal your identity.

You shall not flaunt your powers.

“Is that enough for you to believe me?” He asks and you're shocked, “Are you really..?” You question and he nods. The air shifts and you realise that you're in a heavenly presence which makes you scared- “Be not afraid.” He tells you and your breath hitches in your throat.

He moves closer to you again, caressing your cheek, “I'm telling you all this because- I don't know, I don't want to leave you behind.” He admits truthfully. “But if you're an angel, then we can’t-” You try to speak, but he cuts you off, “I know.”

“Truth be told, I have no idea what it is about you that made me hold such feelings towards you, but all I know is that I want you, I desire you, I need you.” He grips your shoulders, hands digging into your flesh.

You must not seek out a human.

You must not engage in worldly pleasures.

The atmosphere is filled with silence and tension as you look down, unable to form a sentence as your thoughts feel too complicated to process and Aemond just stares at you.

‘Do it.’ he hears a voice at the back of his head.

‘You want her, so do it.’ It encourages him.

‘If you want her, you must claim her.’ It's evil.

‘But I have to return to the heavens.’

‘Will you truly be happy in heaven?’

‘I'm not sure.’

‘Without her? Will you be able to continue to live without her?’

‘I do not know..’

‘If you do not claim her, she will fall in love with another mortal man, will you be able to stand it? Watch down from the heavens with the realisation that she was never yours?’

‘But I must not, I will soil myself, I do not want to give into the worldly pleasures.’

‘Hah, you're a fool, do as you wish, just remember that once you leave, she will never be yours, she will belong to another man.’

‘Stop.’

‘-She will be touched by another man, kissed, caressed, hugged, all the things you want to do to her'

‘Stop.’ Aemond tries resisting the anger that fills him when he imagines another man touching you.

‘She will get fucked by another man, and you'll watch it happen.’

“That's enough!” Aemond screams which startles you, “Aemond?” He looks at you, and your eyes widen when you realise something in his eye has changed, his pupil resembles that of a reptile. “What's wrong—” You're cut off from your words as he presses his lips against you, electricity courses through your body when you feel his soft lips against yours.

His lips move messily against yours, and he tastes just like honey, you try to resist wanting to tell him that this is wrong, and rationalise that he'll be cast out from heaven if he engages in intimacy with you but you aren't able to form coherent words because of the way he's constantly cutting you off with messy kisses.

“I want you, I need you, I can't let you be with any other man other than me.”

You're conflicted on whether you should encourage this but you remain silent, and aemond takes your silence as an agreement, he slowly slides off his robes and fully shows himself naked in front of you.

He's working on your clothes next, pulling them off you in swift motions before you're left standing bare just like him, he cups your cheek and tilts your face towards him, “Aemond… you'll be punished.” Your voice is laced with concern. “Look at you.. Always concerned for me, it doesn't matter anymore, I've made up my mind.” He pushes you towards the bed and onto it before climbing on top of you.

He places the soft pillow below your head for comfort before he trails soft kisses on your face, down to your neck, breasts and stomach.

“Beautiful, my beautiful lady.” He mutters against your skin, pecking and pulling it between his teeth. “Your body is so beautiful, your frame, everything about it is so beautiful.” He praises peppering kisses being placed on your breasts. He watches in awe as your nipples harden and poke up, and so he wets his lips before opening them and taking your nipple into his mouth, sighing softly in satisfaction.

His tongue swirls around your nipple, playing with the bud and flicking it up and down, the suckling noises that leave his mouth are sinful that makes you wet down there, you grind up against him to feel at ease.

The room begins to get hot and your small gasps and whines fill the air, accompanied by his grunts of satisfaction, that he finally got to touch you like this. He leaves your breast with a pop before focusing his attention onto the other one. “Aemond…” You wail and he looks at you, “... need you down here.” Those words leave your mouth unexpectedly as you rub your clit and he immediately listens to you letting go of your breast.

He travels down until he's directly faced with your cunt, he watches in amusement as your essence drips out of your hold which he licks up and brings up to your clit and suckles on it. “Hggnh!” You arch your back in pleasure as you feel tingles all over your body, your cunt pulsing around nothing when you feel his tongue play with your clit.

He nibbles on your clit, his teeth slightly poking it which makes slight pain shoot up your body. His tongue moves up and down, from your hole to your clit, he sucks on the flaps of your cunt harshly that causes you to whimper.

You feel his finger prodding at your opening before he slowly pushed it inside, “Fuck Aemond!” You let out a whine when you felt how his finger was stretching you out whilst his tongue worked magic on your clit.

He slowly pumped his finger in and out, letting you adjust to it before pushing another one inside which made you shriek but he hushed you with a kiss to your clit, and soon enough- the slow licking of your bud and the pumping of his fingers made you reach your peak. You clenched your eyes shut at the impact of your orgasm; feeling as if your whole body was set on fire, you saw plain white as your whole body quivered because of him.

He pulls his face away and draws back his finger only for him to put his fingers in his mouth, loving the way you tasted. He climbed upward until he was face to face with you and kissed you, making you taste your essence.

“So beautiful.” He says softly as he sees your dazed expression and messy hair, the way your lips are parted slightly as you take deep breaths.

He couldn't contain himself anymore.

He wasted no time in lining himself against your entrance and slowly pushing inside, you gasped when you felt how big he was, but you didn't stop him but instead held onto his shoulder as he pushed it inside inch by inch.

His hair cascaded around his face, making him look angelic, he closed his eye; gasping for air when he felt you clench around him. The way your walls were wrapped around him drove him insane; he couldn't hold back any longer as something in him cracked, his pace was messy and fast, almost desperate as if he was waiting his entire lifetime for this.

The sound of thrusts echo in the room as he speeds up, your back arches in pleasure when you feel him hit a certain spot inside you, his hands grip your waist as a leverage as he constantly thrusts deep and deeper inside you.

He feels like he is in heaven again, the feeling of you finally being his and how you're squirming underneath him, moaning his name, not anyone else's.

“You feel so good.” He grunts, “so fucking good— my love.” he places a kiss on your breast, before looking at you once again, your eyes staring directly at him. The sight of you beneath him, legs wrapped around his waist as you try to grind into him, indicating that you want him too makes him go feral.

His thrusts soon become sloppy, he knows he's gonna finish in mere moments, so he angles his thrusts upwards— hitting your sweet spot multiple times— making you see stars when you peak.

He's almost blinded when he feels his orgasm hit him, the intensity of the sensation being way too much to handle, he lets out a loud moan as he slowly rides out his orgasm all the while pumping you full of his seed.

He pulls out moments later and lays down beside you, trying to catch his breath, and you pull him closer for a hug.

Everything goes quiet for a few moments as you both try to recover.

Only for the silence to be broken by Aemond agonising screams.

“Aemond?” You panic not knowing what's happening.

Aemond feels as though his entire body was on fire, and then the flesh on his back distorts as his white angel wings spring out of it, you stand there in awe when you look at them, they're white feathers, but soon that emotion of amusement is replaced by pure horror when you see it be forcefully get ripped apart from his back by an invisible force of nature.

You scream in terror, while Aemond tries to bear the pain, he knew this would happen sooner or later, but he couldn't help but scream as the pain of having his wings ripped apart and pulled from his back is agonising.

Maybe the curse of being God's favourite was real.

And what Aemond is facing right now is God's punishment for trudging the path of temptation.

“Please- it hurts.” Aemond croaks in agony.

You feel helpless, not being able to do anything except watch, you just cradle his face, his hand grips onto yours tightly.

And soon it's done.

You could only watch as tears dripped down from his eye.

His once beautiful angel wings were ripped apart, the feathers all over the room and the only thing that remained of it were the scars of the wound on his back.

The scar that indicates the two wings were pulled out.

An angel without wings.

A fallen angel.

— ! ݈݇- thank you so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed it <3 comments and reblogs are appreciated greatly ♡

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aeralux · 1 month ago

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"Mine" - Aemond Targaryen

Summary: You find Aemond in the Keep's library one evening. You thought that maybe reading a few history books might bore you to sleep. Aemond knew another way to tire you out...

Words: 6.5k

Warnings: SMUT! but more specifically: targcest; degradation; name calling (slut, cocksleeve etc); he uses the term "princess" a lot; rough sex; possibly breeding kink (he does cum inside); mention of Jace and the word "bastard" (by Aemond ofc); fingering; squirting; dirty talk; just straight up filth yknow?

Other notes: Reader has long white hair in this story (reader is Targaryen) but no other physically descriptive words are included. English is not my first language so it may seem like I'm trying too hard at times to sound "real". If you wish you could always leave me a comment <3

-- aera xx

In the quiet library of the Red Keep, evening light poured through tall, narrow windows, casting an amber glow on the shelves filled with dusty books. The scent of old parchment filled the air, creating a nostalgic feeling of ancient knowledge. The soft rustle of turning pages added a gentle rhythm to the library, which was filled with whispered stories.

Aemond Targaryen, exuding a regal presence, sat in this historic space. His silver hair shimmered in the soft light as he read a thick book about the ancient history of House Targaryen. His sharp violet eye was focused on the tales within the pages.

When the door creaked open, it interrupted the library's silence. Aemond lifted his gaze from the book, recognizing your entrance. He closed the heavy tome with a soft thud, changing the atmosphere as he acknowledged you.

You stepped into the peaceful library, bathed in the evening glow, with a quiet energy surrounding you. Aemond nodded, a gesture that was both formal and restrained, before asking, "What are you doing here?" His voice was low and deliberate, breaking the silence. Each word carried authority and thoughtfulness. His one visible violet eye—his other hidden by a black leather eyepatch—lingered on you, silently prompting you to explain.

"I beg your pardon, my prince. I was unaware that visiting the Keep's library was not permitted for someone of my stature," you respond with a playful curtsy, gracefully toward the venerable history section. Your long, flowing white hair cascades behind you like a silken waterfall. While your floor-length night dress, rich with elegance, glides softly with each step. A delicate, deep blue shawl adorns your shoulders, offering a subtle shield against the evening breeze that whispers through the grand hallways. You gaze at the ancient tomes that line the shelves, for knowledge is a treasure worth pursuing, as said by your father many times.

Aemond's gaze followed your graceful movements, his one visible eye tracking you as you glide through the hallowed halls of the library. The sway of your silken garments and the shimmer of your hair caught the dim light, creating an almost ethereal aura around you. His lips curled into a slight smirk, intrigue and amusement playing across his features.

"A library, you say?" His voice, low and rich, echoed in the quiet space. "Since when has the Red Keep's library been open to anyone?" He rose from his seat, his tall frame unfolding with a fluid grace that belied his martial prowess. The click of his boots against the stone floor marked his approach, each step measured and deliberate. "Or perhaps," he continued, his tone taking on a teasing edge, "you've been granted special privileges that I'm not aware of?"

As he drew closer, the scent of leather and a hint of smoke clung to him, a reminder of his time spent training or perhaps riding his majestic dragon, Vhagar. His hand reached out, fingers grazing the spine of a nearby tome, the touch light yet purposeful. "Tell me, princess," he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "what brings you to these hallowed halls? Surely not just idle curiosity." His one visible eye locked onto yours, the intensity of his gaze palpable. The air between you seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken tension. Aemond's presence filled the space, commanding and alluring, a blend of danger and magnetism that was unmistakably Targaryen.

You let out a soft huff, your lips curving into an incredulous smile as you surveyed the rows of books above you. The scent of aged parchment and leather filled the air, mingling with an undeniable sense of history. "Surely, I assumed this esteemed library would be accessible to all residents, particularly those of Targaryen lineage," you stated with poise. Your voice carried a subtle lilt of defiance, a challenge lacing your words as you turned to face the prince. "I fail to see why I should require written permission from the King to peruse the tomes housed within these walls. A noble mind seeks knowledge freely, after all." Your demeanour was resolute, fully aware that your words were a test of the prince's patience and authority.

A soft chuckle escaped Aemond's lips, the sound rich and warm, like aged wine. He closed the distance between you, his towering frame looming over you as you perused the bookshelves. The scent of leather and smoke intensified, mingling with the dusty aroma of ancient tomes.

"Ah, but there's a difference between being allowed and being… expected," he murmured, his voice a low rumble. His hand reached past you, fingers grazing the spine of a particularly old-looking book as he pulled it from the shelf. "Some things in life require… invitation, princess."

He turned the book in his hands, tracing the embossed title with a calloused thumb.

Aemond's gaze drifted from the book to you, his one visible eye roaming over your form with an almost palpable hunger. The air between you seemed to crackle with tension, a silent acknowledgement of the unspoken desires that simmered just beneath the surface.

"Tell me," he purred, leaning in closer, his breath ghosting over your ear, "what secrets are you hoping to uncover in these dusty tomes?" With a deliberate grace, you turned to face him, your eyes sparkling with a mixture of challenge and defiance. The air was thick with unspoken tension, and your voice, steady and composed, cut through it like a blade. "You dare to insult me, my prince. Do you truly believe that merely because I am a woman, I am devoid of the intellect to read and comprehend?"

You took a moment to let your words sink in, the candlelight casting flickering shadows around you. "For your information," you continued, your tone both firm and elegant, "I immerse myself in the written word far more than you may presume. Through hours spent in the quiet company of books, I have delved into the intricacies of the ancient language of High Valyrian."

With that, you leaned back gracefully against the towering bookshelf, the scent of aged parchment enveloping you, further emphasizing your knowledge and poise. Your stance was not just defensive; it was a proclamation of your strength and determination to be seen as more than just a princess.

Aemond's lips curled into a smirk, a dangerous glint in his eye. He leaned in closer, invading your personal space, his tall frame towering over you. The scent of leather and smoke enveloped you, a heady mix that stirred something deep within.

"Is that so?" he purred, his voice low and rich, like honey dripping from a spoon. "The ancient tongue of High Valyria, hmm? Impressive for a woman."

His hand reached out, fingers grazing your cheek with a feather-light touch. The calloused pad of his thumb traced the delicate curve of your jaw, a gentle caress that belied the intensity of his gaze. "But tell me, princess," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your ear, sending shivers down your spine, "what good is knowledge without the wisdom to wield it?"

Aemond's body pressed against yours, the hard planes of his chest a stark contrast to the soft curves of your form. The heat of his skin seeped through the layers of your clothing, igniting a fire within you that threatened to consume you whole.

As you linger in the hushed confines of the library, the air is thick with an almost palpable tension. Dust motes dance lazily in the moonlight that filters through the tall, arched windows, casting delicate patterns on the polished wooden floor. Your lips part ever so gently, the subtle movement accompanied by a playful flick of your tongue against your cheek—a gesture that hints at the complexities of your thoughts swirling within.

“What makes you say that? I believe you do not know me well enough to make such harsh accusations,” you murmur, your voice a silken whisper that cuts through the silence like a soft breeze. The starkness of the cold seems to conspire with the palpable tension in the room, causing your body to respond instinctively. You can feel a faint shiver suffusing your frame, and you —betrayed by your undeniable vulnerability—your soft nipples perk up in reaction. In a bid to maintain your composed facade, you fleetingly draw your thin shawl closer, attempting to shield yourself from the wintry draft and Aemond's intense gaze.

Your gaze, steady and unwavering, locks onto the source of the accusation. A lingering silence stretches between you, thick with unspoken thoughts and emotions.

Aemond's gaze dropped to your chest, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the fabric of your dress. The air grew thick with tension, the silence broken only by the soft rustle of pages and the pounding of your heart.

"Oh, I believe I know you well enough, princess," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Well enough to see the hunger in your eyes, the desire that lurks beneath the surface."

His hand moved from your cheek to your throat, his fingers wrapping around your slender neck in a gentle but firm grip. The warmth of his skin seeped through your flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure down your spine.

"You may hide behind your books and your knowledge, but I see the truth of who you are," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your ear. "A woman with needs, with desires that cannot be satiated by mere words on a page."

Aemond's lips brushed against your earlobe, a feather-light touch that set your nerves ablaze. His tongue darted out, tracing the delicate shell of your ear, a teasing promise of the pleasures that awaited you.

"You seem to have lost track of yourself… my prince," you say, your voice flowing like velvet, rich with an alluring undertone that dances in the air between you. The candlelight flickers, casting warm shadows on the towering shelves laden with bound volumes. He arches an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Every woman has her needs and desires; I don’t believe I’ve ever denied that," you reply, your tone teasing.

You take a step closer, the scent of aged paper and polished wood swirling around you. "I truly came to the library seeking a few books," you assert, letting the words linger like a sweet melody as you survey the vast collection that surrounds you. "Yet, it seems fate has intertwined our paths, for it is you, who cannot seem to find satisfaction among the pages."

Your gaze locks onto his, and the air between you crackles with unspoken tension. The deep hue of his eye mirrors the mystery and allure of the old library, pulling you in like an enchanting tale begging to be read. You stand defiant, fearless in your challenge, as the study envelops you both in its quiet embrace, the world outside forgotten in the presence of such undeniable chemistry.

Aemond's lips curled into a wicked grin, his eye gleaming with a dangerous light. He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through the layers of your clothing. The scent of leather and smoke enveloped you, a heady mix that made your head spin and your heart race.

"You're right, princess," he purred, his voice low and seductive. "I am a man with… insatiable appetites." His hand slid down from your throat to your chest, his fingers toying with the edge of your bodice. The rough pad of his thumb brushed against the swell of your breast, sending a jolt of electricity through your veins.

"And you, my dear girl," he murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips, "are a feast I am eager to devour." You observed his hand gliding gracefully across my body, each deliberate movement igniting a fire within you, while you struggled to maintain a steady breath. The air was thick with tension, a blend of desire and playful banter. "Do you truly see yourself as a dragon?" You teased him, your voice soft but laced with challenge. In the world of the Targaryens, such a title was often worn like a badge of honour, and most of them, like Aemond and you, embraced this fierce identity. There was a certain magic in declaring oneself a dragon, a symbol of strength and majesty.

As you gazed into his eyes, you could sense the latent power and pride he carried within him. At this moment, the noble essence of our lineage intertwined with the unmistakable charge of tension. Aemond's eyes flashed with a dangerous light, his lips curling into a wicked grin. He leaned in closer, his body pressing against yours, the heat of his skin seeping through the layers of your clothing. The scent of leather and smoke enveloped you, a heady mix that made your head spin and your heart race.

"A dragon?" he purred, his voice low and seductive. "Oh, I am much more than that, my dear." The rough pad of his thumb brushed against the swell of your breast again, making heat pool between your thighs and your breath stutter. He murmured, his breath ghosting over your lips. "And you are the prey I am eager to hunt."

Your breath catches in your throat as Aemond's fingers graze over the sensitive peaks of your breasts, sending electric sparks racing through your body. You can scarcely believe the words tumbling from his lips, the raw hunger in his voice as he confesses his forbidden desires. "Aemond…" You breathe, your own need rising to match his. "If you've already caught me, then what's left to hunt?"

You lean into his touch, revelling in the feel of his calloused hands on my bare skin. At this moment, nothing else matters - not your duty, not your honour. There is only the heat building between you, the promise of pleasure and passion. "Prove it then," you challenge him, your eyes gleaming with mischief and desire. "Show me the depths of your obsession, the lengths you'll go to claim me as yours."

Your heart pounds in your chest, your body aching for his touch. You know you should resist, should push him away and cling to the tattered remains of your virtue. But Aemond has awakened something in you, a hunger you never knew existed. And now that you have had a taste, you fear you'll never be satisfied again. "Oh, my sweet girl," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "The hunt is just beginning."

With a swift motion, he swept you up into his arms, carrying you towards the nearby table. The books and scrolls scattered to the floor as he set you down on the polished wood, his body pressing against yours, pinning you in place.

His lips trailed along your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your throat. One hand slid between your legs, his fingers pressing against the damp heat of your core. "And I always catch my prey," he murmured against your ear, his breath hot and heavy. "No matter how hard they try to escape." You yelp as Aemond suddenly picks you up, laying you on the wooden table. His sapphire eye glints with a predatory hunger as he realizes your lack of small clothes, his fingers grazing over your slick, aching core.

A whimper escapes your lips, but you quickly clamp your hand over your mouth, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment at how much you are enjoying his rough touch. Your body trembles beneath him, your breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he looms over you, his presence overwhelming, his desire palpable. You have never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, and yet so eager for whatever comes next. Aemond's hands are everywhere, roughly skimming over your skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake.

"Please," you whisper, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "Please, Aemond, I need… I need you" You gasped and moaned as Aemond's fingers plunged deeper into your sopping wet cunt, your tight hole clenching and fluttering uncontrollably around his thick digits. Clear juices oozed out, dripping onto the table below. You weren't a maiden, having occasionally "relieved stress" with your cousin Jacaerys, but you had never felt pleasure this intense before.

Your hips bucked and writhed shamelessly against Aemond's hand, lewd whimpers and whines spilling from your lips as he finger-fucked you roughly. You threw your head back, eyes squeezing shut, your mind going blank from the overwhelming sensations. "Ahh! M-my prince!" You cried out as Aemond's teeth closed around your sensitive nipple, biting and sucking the tender bud. Electric jolts of pleasure shot straight to your core, making your pussy clench even tighter. You were losing control, surrendering completely to Aemond's dominant touch.

Aemond's lips curled into a wicked grin as he felt your tight heat clench around his fingers, your wetness coating his skin. He could tell that you were no maiden, but the way you responded to his touch was intoxicating nonetheless.

"That's it, my little minx," he growled, his voice thick with desire. "Let go and give yourself to me completely." He bit down harder on your nipple, his teeth grazing the sensitive flesh. You cried out, your hips bucking wildly against his hand. Aemond could feel your body trembling beneath him, your thighs quivering as you teetered on the brink of release. He added a third finger, stretching you further, his thumb circling your clit in maddening strokes. Your moans echoed through the library, the sound of your pleasure filling the air.

"Come for me," he commanded, his lips moving to your neck. "Let me feel you come undone on my fingers."

You sat up on your elbows, your breath quickening as you watched Aemond's skilled fingers playing between your thighs. The scene was so erotic that you couldn't help but let out a loud, wanton moan. "W-wait, this feels… weird," you stuttered, your voice shaking as he continued his relentless ministrations. The pleasure was unlike anything you had ever experienced, building in intensity with each thrust of his fingers. A strange tension coiled in your stomach, unfamiliar yet tantalizingly close to release.

Your head fell back, your long white hair cascading down your back as you arched into his touch. You bit your lip, trying to stifle the whimpers and gasps that escaped you. "Aemond, please," you breathed, your hips rocking against his hand. "I've never felt anything like this before. It's too much…" But even as the words left your lips, you knew they were a lie. It wasn't too much, and Gods, you didn't want him to stop.

Aemond's eyes darkened with lust as he watched you sit up, your chest heaving with each ragged breath. The sight of you spread out before him, your skin flushed with arousal, was almost too much to bear. "Weird?" he chuckled, his fingers never ceasing their relentless pace. "Oh, my sweet girl, this is just the beginning."

He could feel the tension building in your body, the way your muscles tensed and quivered beneath his touch. He knew you were close, teetering on the edge of something profound and all-consuming. "Embrace it," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. You cried out loudly, your moans escaping in broken sobs as the intense pleasure overtook you. "N-no! S-stop!" You pleaded, but it was too late. Your climax hit you like a massive wave, washing over you with a force that left you gasping and trembling.

Your body convulsed with the sheer force of your release, your inner walls clenching and fluttering around his fingers. Clear, sticky essence gushed out of you, coating his hand and splattering onto the table below. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving you drenched and shaking.

As the final waves of ecstasy subsided, your arms gave out, and you collapsed back onto the table, limp and spent. Your core continued to twitch and spasm, empty and aching for more. You panted heavily, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch my breath.

At that moment, you felt utterly vulnerable, exposed, and at his mercy. The intensity of my orgasm had left you raw, your defences stripped away. You lay there, trembling and gasping, your body still humming with residual pleasure. You couldn't help but wonder what he would do next, how far he would push you. But one thing was certain - you had never felt anything quite like that before. Aemond watched with rapt attention as your body convulsed in ecstasy, your cries of pleasure echoing through the library. He felt your essence coat his fingers, your release dripping down his wrist and onto the table below.

He continued to work his fingers inside you, prolonging your climax until you were nothing more than a quivering mess beneath him. Your chest heaved as you struggled to catch your breath, your skin slick with sweat, and your hair plastered to your face. "Look at you," he purred, his eyes roaming over your trembling form. "So responsive, so eager for my touch."

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. "And we've only just begun, my love. There is so much more I want to show you, so many ways I want to make you come undone." "W-wait", you cried out as Aemond's fingers began to slip free from your sensitive, cum-soaked pussy. Your release dripping down your thighs, the table below you slick with your wetness. Your legs trembled uncontrollably, the aftershocks of your intense orgasm still ripping through you. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill down your cheeks at the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body.

Your pussy continued to pulse and flutter around nothing, still recovering from your intense climax. But you knew you couldn't take anymore, not yet. You needed a moment to catch your breath, to gather your scattered wits.

"Please, Aemond," you gasped, your voice hoarse and desperate. "I need a moment. You've undone me completely." Aemond smirked at the sight of your tears, your body still trembling from the aftershocks of your climax. He knew that he had pushed you to the brink, that he had taken you to a place of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

But he also knew that it was too soon to stop, that he had to continue to push you, to mould you into the perfect lover for him. "Shh, my love," he murmured, his fingers gently wiping away your tears. "I know it's overwhelming, but you must trust me. I would never hurt you."

He leaned down, his lips trailing kisses along your jawline and down your neck. His fingers continued their gentle ministrations, his thumb circling your clit with a feather-light touch.

"Just breathe, my darling. Let yourself feel everything." You whimpered as you felt his fingers brush against your over-sensitive clit, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You couldn't help but moan softly, your hips arching into his touch, seeking more, craving more.

"It never felt like this with Jacaerys…" You whined absentmindedly. You had never been so wanton, so desperate for another's touch. But with Aemond, you couldn't help myself. He brought out a side of you that you had never known existed, a side that craved pleasure and passion and the sweet oblivion of surrender. A low growl rumbled in Aemond's chest at the mention of your former lover's name. The thought of Jacaerys touching you, pleasuring you, filled him with a jealous rage that he could scarcely contain.

"Forget him," he snarled, his fingers tightening around your wrist. "He is nothing compared to me. I am the only one who can truly satisfy you, the only one who can make you feel like this." He leaned down, his lips crashing against yours in a bruising kiss. He poured all of his passion, all of his desire, into that single moment, claiming you as his own.

His hand moved lower, his fingers delving into your slick folds once more. He could feel your walls fluttering around him, still sensitive from your previous climax. "I will make you forget his name, my love. I will make you scream mine until the very walls of this library shake."

You whimpered as you felt Aemond's fingers delve into your sensitive folds once more, the obscene wet sounds of his ministrations filling the room. Your hips bucked involuntarily, trying to escape the overwhelming sensations even as your body craved more. "Aemond, please…" you gasped, your voice breathy and desperate. "I need… I need you inside me."

Your mind was hazy with lust, coherent thoughts slipping away like grains of sand through my fingers. All you could focus on was the heat building between your legs, the ache of emptiness that only Aemond's cock could fill.

"Please, my prince," you begged, your hips rolling shamelessly against his hand. "Does that mean I can't fuck Jace anymore?" You whined, biting your lip, your words leaving your mouth before you could stop them.

Aemond's eyes narrowed at your question, his grip on your wrist tightening to the point of pain. "No, you cannot fuck him anymore," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "You belong to me now, body and soul. I will not share you with anyone, least of all that pathetic bastard."

He thrust his fingers deeper into your cunt, his thumb pressing firmly against your clit. He could feel your walls clenching around him, trying to push him out, but he refused to relent. "You are mine. Mine to fuck, mine to claim, mine to ruin."

He leaned down, his teeth grazing your earlobe. "And I will ruin you, my love. I will break you apart and put you back together again, moulding you into the perfect lover for me." You let out a broken whimper, your body trembling from Aemond's touch. His hands roamed over your naked form, igniting a fire deep within you. You had never felt such desire, such raw, primal need. "Please, Aemond," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I want you inside me. I need you."

You reached out, your fingers tangling with his, guiding his hand to the slick folds of your sex. He groaned at the contact, his eye darkening with lust and longing. Aemond's eyes darkened with lust at your desperate plea, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

"As you wish, my love," he purred, his voice low and seductive. He withdrew his fingers from your dripping cunt, bringing them to his lips. He licked them clean, savouring the taste of your arousal. "Delicious," he murmured, his eyes never leaving yours.

He stood up, quickly shedding his clothes until he was completely naked. His cock sprang free, hard and ready for you. He pushed you down onto the table, spreading your legs wide. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging against your slick folds.

"Beg for it," he commanded, his voice rough with desire. "Beg for me to fuck you, to claim you as mine." You whimpered as you felt Aemond's hard, leaking tip tease your slick folds. Your body ached for him and craved his touch like nothing you had ever known before. "Please, Aemond," you breathed, your voice trembling with need. "I need you. I've wanted you for so long, dreamed of you claiming me as yours."

You looked up at him, your eyes glossy with desire, your lips swollen from his kisses. "I've touched myself thinking of you," you confessed, your cheeks flushing with shame and arousal. "Imagined you taking me, using me for your pleasure. Treating me like your personal slut." Your heart raced, your body trembling with anticipation. You had never wanted anything so badly, never needed anyone so desperately. Aemond was the only one who could satisfy the hunger that consumed you, the only one who could make you whole. Aemond's eyes darkened with lust at your confession, a feral grin spreading across his face.

"Such a naughty girl," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "Touching yourself while thinking of me… I love it." He thrust his hips forward, burying his thick cock deep inside your slick heat. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your walls stretching to accommodate his size.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned, his fingers digging into your hips. "I'm going to ruin this sweet little cunt of yours." He set a brutal pace, pounding into you with reckless abandon. The table shook with each powerful thrust, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh echoing through the room.

"Take it, you filthy slut," he snarled, his eyes boring into yours. "Take my cock like the whore you are." Aemond's hips pistoned faster, harder, driving his thick cock deeper into your aching cunt with every powerful thrust. "Ah!" You cried out, your inner walls clenching around his throbbing shaft, the delicious stretch and burn of his girth filling you completely. The broad head of his cock battered my inner barrier, striking that secret place deep inside that made sparks of pleasure explode.

"Hngh! Oh gods, Aemond!" You moaned wantonly, your body quivering like a leaf in a storm. Your fingers scrabbled for purchase on his sweat-slicked shoulders as he pounded into you relentlessly, the obscene slap of flesh on flesh echoing through the chamber. "Have you ever… mph!… ever thought of me like this?" I managed to gasp out between his brutal thrusts, your eyes glazed with lust. "Thought of me while you touched yourself?"

You gazed up at him with hooded eyes, your lips parted and kiss-swollen, silently begging for more, for everything he had to give me. At that moment, you were his completely - mind, body and soul. Nothing else mattered except the feel of him moving inside you, claiming you, branding you as his own.

Aemond let out a dark chuckle at your question, his hips never ceasing their brutal rhythm. "Oh, I've thought of you plenty, my sweet," he purred, his voice dripping with sin. "Late at night, alone in my chambers, with my cock in my hand and your name on my lips."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue plundered your mouth, claiming every inch of you. "I've imagined bending you over every surface in this keep, fucking you until you scream," he growled against your lips. "I've pictured you on your knees, choking on my cock, begging for more." He sat back up, gripping your thighs and spreading your legs even wider. He pounded into you with renewed vigour, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room.

"And now here you are, my filthy little fantasy come to life," he snarled, his eyes wild with lust. "And I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

You bite my lip, hearing his words, whimpers of pleasure spilling out. "Yeah?" You breathe, your voice barely above a whisper. "Have you thought about using me in front of everyone, just to show them who I belong to? Who's the only one who gets to fuck me?"

Aemond's eyes darken, his grip on your hips tightening almost painfully. "Poor you," you murmur, a wicked smile curving my lips. "You must have been so jealous of Jace…" You can hardly think, hardly speak, as Aemond's thrusts grow more brutal, more demanding. Each stroke sends shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body.

Aemond's eyes flashed with rage at the mention of Jace, his thrusts becoming even more punishing. "That bastard doesn't deserve you," he snarled, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "You're mine, do you understand? No one else can have you."

He pulled out suddenly, flipping you over onto your stomach. He kicked your legs apart, mounting you from behind. "I should take you in front of the whole court. Let them all see who you belong to," he growled, his fingers tangling in your hair. "I should fuck you in front of that smug bastard. Make him watch as I claim what's mine."

He slammed back into you, his cock hitting that spot deep inside that made you see stars. "Yes, my prince," you moaned, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. "Parade me around the castle like the fucktoy I am. Let everyone see how you've claimed me, body and soul."

"This cunt belongs to me," he snarled, punctuating each word with a brutal thrust. "No one else gets to touch you. No one else gets to fuck you. You're mine."

You let out a sharp gasp as Aemond thrust into you from behind, the head of his cock slamming against your cervix. The pain mixed with pleasure, sending shockwaves of ecstasy rippling through your body. "Fuck, Aemond!" You cried out, your voice high and breathy. "Harder, please! Use me, ruin me! I'm yours, all yours!"

You had never spoken like this before, had never even imagined yourself capable of such lewd, wanton behaviour. But Aemond's cock was driving you mad with lust, turning you into a creature of pure, unadulterated desire.

You couldn't believe the filthy words spilling from your lips, the depraved fantasies unfolding in your mind. But you were too far gone to care, lost in the throes of passion, the heat of Aemond's body against yours.

"I'm yours," you gasped, my nails gripping the wooden table as he pounded into me. "Now and forever, I belong to you. Use me as you see fit, my love. My body is your plaything, your toy to break and remake as you please."

Aemond grunted in approval at your filthy words, his hips snapping forward even harder. "That's right, you're my fucktoy," he growled, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass. "My personal cocksleeve to use as I please." He reached around, his hand finding your clit and rubbing it roughly. Your back arched, a silent scream tearing from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you.

"That's it, cum on my cock like a good little whore," he snarled, his fingers working you through your climax. Your pussy clenched around him, milking his length. With a roar, he buried himself to the hilt, his cock twitching as he filled you with his seed.

"Fuck, I love you," he panted, his forehead resting against your shoulder blade. "I love you so much it hurts." You creamed all over his cock, painting it white with your releases. You came with a loud scream of pleasure, your eyes wide with disbelief. You looked up at Aemond, your gaze searching his face, trying to read the truth behind his words.

"Do you actually mean that?" you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of shock and excitement.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the memory of your passionate coupling still fresh in your mind. You could feel the sticky residue of your combined releases on your thighs, the slight soreness between your legs a testament to your intense lovemaking.

But to hear Aemond say it out loud, to put words to the deed, made it feel somehow more real, more tangible. More forbidden. Part of you wanted to deny it, to pretend that it hadn't happened, that you hadn't surrendered to the taboo desires that burned within you.

But another part of you, the part that had been awakened by Aemond's touch, his passion, his love, couldn't deny the truth.

And as you lay there, naked and vulnerable before him, you knew that you would do it again in a heartbeat. Aemond pulled out of you slowly, his softening cock slipping free with a wet sound. He turned you over, his lilac eye intense as it met your gaze.

"More than anything," he said seriously, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. "You're the only one who understands me, the only one who sees the real me beneath the arrogant prick everyone else knows."

He cupped your face, his expression softening. "I love you. I've loved you since we were children, playing in the gardens of the Red Keep. You were always my favourite cousin, the one I felt most connected to."

His thumb brushed away a tear you didn't realize had fallen. "I know I'm not good enough for you, not with my temper and rage. But I promise you, I'll spend every day trying to be the man you deserve. The man who can give you the life you want." He leaned in, pressing his forehead to yours.

You smiled gently at the memory he conjured from your childhood, a soft glow lighting up your eyes. “You were such a sweet boy,” you said, your voice warm and reminiscent. With a tender touch, you caressed his hair, your fingers brushing lightly through the strands, evoking a sense of familiarity and affection.

Leaning closer, you continued, “I liked you from the very moment you helped me when Aegon tripped me.” The scene played in your mind like an old tapestry, vibrant and full of life—the laughter of children mingling with the rustle of leaves, the way he had reached out with such kindness.

A long-forgotten warmth filled your heart as you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. You could feel the heaviness of sleep gradually overcoming you, your eyelids fluttering as you struggled to stay present in the moment. With a soft sigh, you smiled at him, cherishing the connection that transcended the years—an unspoken bond woven through shared memories and gentle gestures, a bond that still felt as rich and regal as the day it was born.

Aemond chuckled softly, a low, melodic sound that resonated in the quiet room, his hand instinctively covering yours as it rested in his hair. "I was a boy who found trouble at every turn," he corrected with a charming grin, his violet eyes glinting with mischief. "Yet, despite my flaws, I always sought to extend kindness to you, even when my temperament faltered with others."

With a graceful sweep, he lifted you effortlessly into his arms and carried you toward the grand sofa nestled between the ornate cupboards. As he laid you down with the utmost care, he settled beside you, repositioning himself to envelop you in his warmth. His arm encircled your waist possessively, drawing you close so your head rested upon his broad chest, the steady rhythm of his heart echoing a soothing lullaby. "I shall always protect you," he murmured, his breath a gentle caress against your skin as his fingers traced intricate patterns along your back, each stroke imbued with affection. "No matter what trials may arise or who dares to come between us, I vow to remain steadfast by your side." With tender reverence, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, a promise sealed in that delicate gesture. His breathing began to slow, a tranquil cadence as he held you close, a knight sworn to guard his cherished queen against the world.

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hisfavegirl · 10 days ago

Text

Sweet Little Family - Daemon Targaryen x Reader.

Summary : It's been six years since your marriage, your children have grown up to be like their father. You are very grateful to have a husband like Daemon, who can give you a sweet little family.

You walked slowly, following the quick, excited steps of your triplets. Their silver hair shimmered in the sunlight, flowing like silk ribbons as they ran ahead of you. Their laughter echoed through the stone halls, filling your heart with warmth.

“Slow down, little dragons,” you called gently, placing a hand on your growing belly. Your voice carried a mix of affection and mild exasperation. “Don’t make me chase you.”

Nearly six years had passed since their birth, and it was hard to believe how quickly they’d grown into such lively children. Each of them had their own unique energy — Maegon always leading the charge, Vaelya trailing close behind with a mischievous grin, and Aerion darting from side to side like a little whirlwind.

Footsteps echoed behind you, and you glanced back to see Daemon approaching. His eyes were locked on you with a mixture of pride and concern. “You’re pushing yourself too much,” he remarked as he reached you, his hand resting gently on your lower back. “Let them run wild. They’ll tire themselves out soon enough.”

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his presence beside you. “If they tire themselves out, they’ll only have more energy later,” you replied with a knowing look.

Daemon chuckled softly, his eyes briefly flicking to your belly. “And soon enough, there’ll be another one running around with them,” he said, resting a hand over yours on your stomach. His touch was firm but tender, his thumb gently stroking the fabric of your gown.

“Or maybe two,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

Daemon’s eyes widened for a moment, then he laughed, tilting his head back. “Don’t say such things, my love. I can barely manage three of them as it is.”

You laughed along with him, watching as your children stopped at the end of the hall, waving for you both to hurry. Your heart swelled with love for them — for all of them.

Daemon carried you with ease, his arms strong and steady as he walked toward the garden. The warmth of the sun filtered through the leaves, casting soft golden light over the vibrant greenery. The sound of your children’s laughter echoed in the distance, drawing your eyes toward them. They were running freely, their silver hair glinting like threads of moonlight as they chased one another with boundless energy.

“Put me down, Daemon,” you said softly, your arms around his neck. “I can walk just fine.”

“Not while I’m here,” he replied with a teasing grin, his eyes filled with warmth. “Besides, you deserve to be spoiled.”

You shook your head, smiling at his stubbornness. He finally set you down beneath the shade of a large tree, making sure you were comfortable before sitting beside you. You leaned back against the trunk, your eyes locked on your children. Maegon was leading his siblings on an imaginary quest, waving a stick like it was a sword. Vaelya followed close behind, mimicking his movements, while Aerion kept zigzagging between them, laughing as if he were the dragon they were all chasing.

“They’ve grown so fast,” you murmured, your hand resting on your belly, feeling the faint flutter of life inside.

Daemon’s eyes flickered to you before settling on the children. “Too fast,” he agreed, his voice low and thoughtful. “Soon, they’ll be wielding real swords.”

“Not too soon, I hope,” you replied, glancing at him with a raised brow.

He smirked but said nothing, his gaze softening as he watched them play. Moments later, Maegon noticed him and waved eagerly. “Papa, come play with us!” he shouted, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Yes, Papa! Come chase the dragon!” Vaelya added, bouncing on her feet.

Aerion simply pointed at him, grinning with mischief in his eyes.

Daemon glanced at you as if asking for permission. You waved him off with a small laugh. “Go on, Rogue Prince. Your little dragons are calling for you.”

He stood, brushing the dirt from his clothes, and strode toward them with a grin that matched Aerion’s. The children squealed in delight as he lunged toward them, playfully growling like a dragon. They scattered in every direction, their giggles filling the air.

You watched them with a serene smile, leaning back against the tree. The sight of Daemon chasing the children, his eyes alight with joy, filled your heart with peace. It was moments like these — simple, fleeting moments — that you cherished most. For all the grandeur and power of the Red Keep, this was your true treasure: your family, happy and whole.

You gently rubbed your swollen belly, your fingers tracing soothing circles over the growing life within you. Your eyes stayed fixed on Daemon and your children, their laughter filling the garden like a melody of pure joy. It was a sight you never grew tired of — your family together, safe and happy.

A movement from the corner of your eye drew your attention. Turning your head, you saw Aemma approaching with little Rhaenyra toddling beside her. Aemma’s hand rested on her own growing belly, her steps slow and careful but graceful nonetheless. Her smile was warm and knowing, the kind only another expectant mother could offer.

“Look at them,” Aemma said, her eyes following the wild chase between Daemon and your children. “I don’t know who’s having more fun — the father or the little ones.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It’s always him. He acts like he’s doing it for them, but I know better.”

Aemma sat beside you, exhaling deeply as she shifted to get comfortable. Rhaenyra climbed into her lap, snuggling close to her mother’s side. “I think it’s sweet,” Aemma said, stroking Rhaenyra’s silver-blonde hair. “They’ll remember these moments forever. It’s rare for fathers to be so present.”

You glanced at Daemon, watching as he spun Vaelya in the air, her giggles sharp and bright as dragonfire. “He’s stubborn, reckless, and far too proud,” you said with a small smirk. “But with them… he’s soft. Softer than he’ll ever admit.”

Aemma hummed in agreement, her gaze fond. “It suits him,” she said, glancing at you. “It suits you, too. Motherhood becomes you.”

You tilted your head, raising a brow. “Says the mother of the Realm’s Delight,” you teased, nodding at Rhaenyra, who was now playing with the ends of Aemma’s sleeves. “She’ll have the realm wrapped around her little fingers.”

Aemma chuckled, brushing her fingers through Rhaenyra’s hair. “She already does,” she admitted, eyes full of love. “But soon, you’ll have more little ones to wrap you around theirs.” Her gaze flickered meaningfully to your belly. “How are you feeling? Any easier this time?”

You sighed deeply, resting your hand on your belly. “They’re strong,” you said softly. “Stronger than the first three. I feel them day and night, moving, stretching… sometimes it feels like they’re already fighting each other.”

Aemma laughed, eyes sparkling with amusement. “That just means they’ll be warriors. Like their father.”

“Gods help me,” you muttered with mock dread, though you smiled as you spoke. Your eyes softened as you looked back at your children. “One of him is already enough to handle.”

“True,” Aemma said with a grin, leaning back. “But I have a feeling you can handle them all.”

The two of you sat there for a while, sharing quiet conversation and laughter as your children played. The sun filtered gently through the leaves, warming your skin as the cool breeze kept you from growing too hot. It was a rare, perfect moment of peace in a world that often felt far too unpredictable.

And as you watched Daemon gather Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion into a fierce embrace, spinning them all in a circle, you felt it once again — that steady, unshakable warmth of home.

You glanced at Daemon, watching as he tried to wrangle Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion all at once. Maegon had climbed onto his back like a little dragon claiming its perch, Vaelya was tugging at his arm demanding he “fly her like a dragon,” and Aerion had taken it upon himself to chase a butterfly with absolutely no regard for the chaos he left in his wake.

Daemon’s face was a mix of exasperation and determination, his silver hair disheveled from the tiny hands tugging at him. He muttered something under his breath, likely a curse, but his lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. No one else would notice it, but you did. Despite his complaints, he was enjoying every second.

You pressed a hand gently to your belly, feeling the familiar flutter of movement from within. The knowledge of the secret you were carrying — two little lives, not one — made your heart swell with a strange mixture of joy and guilt. You hadn’t told him yet. Part of you feared his reaction, knowing how much effort it already took to manage your three lively children. Seeing him now, juggling their boundless energy with a patience only he could muster, made you hesitate.

Aemma leaned closer to you, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips. “You should tell him,” she whispered, her eyes flicking toward Daemon. “It’s not like he’ll love them any less.”

“I know,” you replied, eyes still on him. “It’s just… look at him, Aemma. He’s outnumbered as it is.”

“And yet, he’s still standing,” Aemma pointed out, giving you a pointed look. “If there’s anyone who can handle five dragonlings, it’s him. You’ve seen it yourself.”

You sighed, brushing your fingers over the curve of your belly. “I’ll tell him soon,” you promised, though you weren’t sure if it was more for Aemma or for yourself. “Just… let me enjoy this peace a little longer.”

“Peace?” Aemma snorted, tilting her head toward the scene in front of you. Daemon had finally managed to catch Aerion, only for Maegon to dart away with Vaelya close behind. “That doesn’t look like peace to me.”

You laughed, unable to deny it. “It’s our kind of peace,” you said, eyes soft with love.

At that moment, Daemon turned, his eyes meeting yours. He arched a brow, noticing you watching him. He narrowed his eyes playfully, as if suspicious of your hidden thoughts. Slowly, he shook his head, feigning defeat. “Stop looking at me like that, love,” he called, hoisting Maegon over his shoulder as if he weighed nothing. “Unless you plan to come help me.”

You smiled sweetly, leaning back against the tree. “You’re doing so well on your own, husband,” you called back, earning an exaggerated groan from him.

Aemma laughed at your side, and you couldn’t help but join her. Yes, you would tell him soon. But for now, you simply wanted to watch him — strong, stubborn, unshakable Daemon Targaryen — being the most chaotic, devoted father in the world.

Your children’s eyes lit up with excitement as soon as Daemon mentioned the Dragonpit. Maegon practically bounced on his feet, his silver hair wild from all his running earlier. “Dragonpit! Dragonpit!” he chanted, his little fists pumping the air. Vaelya clapped her hands in delight, her sharp, curious eyes wide with wonder, while Aerion’s face broke into a mischievous grin as if he were already planning some grand adventure.

“Only if you listen to me,” Daemon said firmly, his voice laced with authority but softened by affection. “No running off. No climbing. No touching anything unless I say so. Do you hear me, hatchlings?”

“Yes, papa!” they all chimed in unison, their faces far too innocent for it to be believable.

You folded your arms across your belly, raising an eyebrow at Daemon. “You know they’re only saying that because they’re too excited to think.”

Daemon smirked, his gaze flicking from you to the three eager children at his feet. “I’m aware,” he replied, bending down to Maegon’s level, giving him a pointed look. “But if they don’t behave, they’ll be back here so fast they won’t even know what happened.” He glanced up at you, his eyes softening. “You should rest, anyway. Aemma will keep you company.”

“I’ll do more than that,” Aemma said, sitting beside you on the bench with a knowing grin. Her hand gently cradled her own growing belly. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t try to follow you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” you said, though both Daemon and Aemma gave you the same skeptical look.

Daemon moved to your side, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. His hand lingered on your belly for a moment, his thumb gently stroking over the fabric of your dress. “We won’t be long,” he murmured, his lips brushing your temple.

“Just be careful,” you whispered, your fingers curling lightly around his wrist.

He grinned as he pulled away, his violet eyes filled with mischief and confidence. “They’ll be riding dragons before you know it, love. Might as well start learning now.”

You shook your head with a quiet laugh as you watched him round up the children. Aerion darted ahead, but Daemon was quick to grab him by the back of his tunic, lifting him off the ground like a cat snatching up its kitten. Vaelya tugged on his other hand, trying to pull him forward faster, while Maegon marched ahead like he was leading a grand procession.

“Dragonpit! Dragonpit!” Maegon started chanting again, his siblings quickly joining him in chorus.

“More like ‘Chaospit,’” Aemma muttered beside you, her tone light with amusement.

You laughed, leaning back against the bench with a sigh. Your hand came to rest on your belly, feeling a soft flutter from within. Twins. Again. You glanced toward Daemon one last time, your heart full of love and quiet awe as you watched him wrangle your little dragons with so much patience and care.

“Do you think he knows?” Aemma asked softly, following your gaze.

“Not yet,” you replied, your voice just as quiet. “But he will soon enough.”

Aemma smiled knowingly, her eyes flicking back to the scene before you. “He’ll be thrilled,” she said. “Overwhelmed, maybe, but thrilled.”

You nodded, your gaze softening as you watched him lift Vaelya onto his hip while holding Aerion’s hand. Maegon, of course, had run too far ahead, and Daemon called after him with that sharp, commanding tone that only he could use.

Yes, you thought, watching him with a full heart. He’ll be thrilled.

With each step down the stone corridors of the Red Keep, you felt the weight of your growing belly. Your hand rested protectively on it, fingers gently stroking as if to soothe the little ones within. The soft thud of your footsteps echoed through the halls, accompanied by the light chatter of Aemma and the occasional babbling of little Rhaenyra in her mother’s arms.

“Are you certain you should be walking so much?” Aemma glanced at you with concern, adjusting Rhaenyra on her hip. “You’re carrying two, after all. Perhaps it’s time to sit for a while.”

“I’m fine, Aemma,” you reassured her, though you did pause for a moment to catch your breath. “I won’t be locked away in that chamber for weeks just because they think I’m too delicate. I’ll rest when I must.”

Aemma gave you a look that was somewhere between amusement and exasperation. “Stubborn as ever, I see.”

“Have you met my husband?” you teased with a grin. “I think it’s rubbing off on me.”

The two of you shared a soft laugh, but it was short-lived as faint whispers reached your ears. It wasn’t unusual. Servants and courtiers alike always had something to say, and with your growing belly on full display, they had even more to gossip about.

“She should be resting, not wandering around like that.”

“Three children already and now more on the way. How does she manage?”

“Prince Daemon won’t be pleased if she overexerts herself.”

You clenched your jaw, forcing yourself to ignore it, but Aemma’s eyes narrowed. She turned her head, her gaze sharp as she scanned the hall. “Do you hear them whispering like rats in the walls?” she muttered, adjusting Rhaenyra in her arms. “If I were you, I’d have half the Keep scrubbing floors for talking about me like that.”

You smiled faintly, tilting your head toward her. “I’ve learned to let them talk. It gives them something to do.”

“Too kind, as always,” Aemma replied, rolling her eyes. “If it were me, I’d give them something else to do.”

The thought made you chuckle softly. The whispers didn’t bother you as much as they used to. You’d grown used to them. You knew they’d never be truly silent, especially when you were married to Daemon Targaryen. If they weren’t whispering about you, they’d be whispering about him.

When you finally reached Aemma’s chambers, the warmth of the fire welcomed you inside. The faint scent of herbs and honey filled the air. A servant poured fresh tea, and you gratefully took a seat on one of the cushioned chairs. The relief on your body was immediate, and you let out a soft sigh as you leaned back.

“I told you,” Aemma said with a playful smile, handing you a steaming cup of tea. “Sitting is much better, isn’t it?”

“Don’t gloat,” you replied, taking the cup with both hands. The warmth seeped into your fingers, and you inhaled the sweet aroma. “But yes, you were right.”

Aemma raised a brow, as if to say, Of course I was. She sat across from you, balancing Rhaenyra on her lap. The little girl reached out, grasping at Aemma’s braid with curious eyes.

The two of you sat in peaceful silence for a while, the crackling fire the only sound between you. Occasionally, Aemma would hum a soft lullaby for Rhaenyra, and you watched with a small smile, one hand resting on your belly as you felt the soft kicks of your own babes.

“Do you ever wonder,” Aemma said suddenly, her gaze distant as she watched the fire, “what kind of mother you’ll be to them?”

You glanced down at your belly, feeling the strong kicks of your unborn children. Your heart swelled with love, warmth, and a tinge of fear. “Every day,” you admitted softly. “I wonder if I’ll be enough for them. If I’ll be able to guide them the way they deserve.”

“You will,” Aemma said firmly, her gaze meeting yours with quiet certainty. “You already are.”

Her words settled over you like a warm cloak. You smiled at her, eyes glistening with gratitude. “And you’ll be there too,” you said with quiet affection. “They’ll have you, just as Rhaenyra has you.”

Aemma tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips. “I will,” she promised.

The warmth of the fire, the softness of the tea, and the quiet strength shared between the two of you made the world outside seem distant. For now, you let yourself feel safe.

You glanced at Aemma, her face bathed in the golden glow of the firelight. She was cradling Rhaenyra on her lap, her fingers gently smoothing down her daughter’s silver hair. Her gaze was soft, but there was a depth of experience in her eyes — one you understood better now that you were a mother yourself.

After a moment of hesitation, you spoke quietly, “Aemma… how was it for you? Your pregnancies, I mean.” You glanced at her with a mixture of curiosity and empathy. “I know this isn’t your first, and… I know you lost one.” Your voice softened at the end, not wanting to stir painful memories but needing to understand.

Aemma’s fingers paused for a moment as she looked down at Rhaenyra, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you feared you’d overstepped, but she took a deep breath and nodded slowly.

“It was hard,” she admitted, her voice quiet but steady. Her eyes remained on Rhaenyra as if finding strength in her daughter’s presence. “The first time, everything felt so new. I was excited, nervous, and hopeful. Viserys was by my side through it all, and I thought nothing could go wrong.” Her eyes flickered with a hint of sorrow. “But the gods had other plans.”

She shifted slightly in her seat, adjusting Rhaenyra, who had begun to doze against her chest. “The second time, I was terrified from the start. Every ache, every twinge, I feared it was happening again. I barely slept, and neither did Viserys. I think he worried more than I did.” Her lips quirked into a faint smile at the thought of her husband.

Her gaze met yours then, her expression filled with quiet resolve. “But Rhaenyra came into this world strong and screaming, and I knew she was different. She had to be.” Her voice softened, full of love and pride. “She was my proof that even after loss, there is hope.”

You nodded slowly, her words sinking into your heart. “I think about that sometimes,” you confessed, running your hand over the swell of your belly. “I have three already, but this pregnancy feels… different. Heavier. Harder. I wonder if it’s because there are two of them, or if the gods are testing me.”

Aemma reached over and placed a hand over yours, her warmth grounding you. “You are strong,” she said firmly, squeezing your hand. “The gods do not test those they do not believe can endure. And you have already proven your strength time and time again.”

Her words settled over you like a soft cloak of comfort. You exhaled deeply, feeling the weight on your heart ease just a little.

“Thank you, Aemma,” you said quietly, your eyes meeting hers.

She smiled, and in that moment, you felt a bond between you grow stronger. Two mothers, two women who had faced the unknown with courage, bound together not just by family but by shared experience.

Aemma’s eyes softened with concern as she watched you prepare to leave. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice laced with worry. “I can have one of the guards accompany you to your chambers. You should take it easy.”

You smiled gently, reassuring her. “I’ll be fine, Aemma. I appreciate the concern, but I’m just a few halls away. I’ll be careful.”

She hesitated for a moment, as though unsure if she should insist, but then she nodded. “Very well. But if you need anything, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I won’t,” you promised, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you for everything.”

With a final smile and a gentle pat on her hand, you slowly rose from your seat, feeling the familiar weight of your growing belly. You took a moment to steady yourself, before giving Aemma one last look and making your way toward the door.

As you walked through the halls of the Red Keep, the quiet sounds of the castle surrounded you, yet there was a sense of calm in the air. The path to your room seemed longer than usual, but each step you took, you felt more confident. You had endured much already—this small walk was nothing you couldn’t handle.

As you rounded a corner, you felt a gentle wave of dizziness, but you steadied yourself against the wall. A brief moment of unease passed, but you shook it off. Just a little longer, you told yourself, then you’d be able to rest.

When you finally reached your chambers, the door opened to reveal the warmth of the fire crackling inside. The sight of Daemon, seated near the hearth, brought a sense of relief. He looked up at you, a soft smile tugging at his lips.

“You’re back,” he said, his voice low and filled with affection. “Everything well?”

You nodded, though the slight heaviness in your chest told you that there was more to be wary of than you’d let on. “Just a walk,” you replied, trying to keep the weariness from your tone. “Nothing to worry about.”

Daemon stood up, his eyes scanning you with concern. “You should rest,” he said, stepping closer. “Let me help you.”

You smiled at him, the warmth of his presence easing the last of your unease. “I will,” you murmured. “But I wanted to be sure everything was in order before I lay down.”

Daemon’s hand rested gently on the small of your back, guiding you toward the bed. “You’ve done more than enough,” he whispered softly. “Now, let’s make sure you and the little ones get the rest you deserve.”

You leaned into him, feeling the safety of his embrace as he helped you settle back against the pillows. With his soothing touch and the quiet of the room, you finally allowed yourself to relax, knowing that Daemon would be there, watching over you and your growing family.

As the warm glow of candlelight flickered softly in the room, you sat back against your pillows, your gaze fixed on Daemon and the children gathered around the dinner table. Laughter and soft chatter filled the air, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of happiness watching them. Daemon, ever the protective father, kept a watchful eye on the children, though his usual stern expression softened whenever he glanced in your direction.

Your hand instinctively found its way to your belly, the slight flutter of your baby within making you smile. The babes was active, just like their siblings had been. You couldn’t help but wonder what this new child would be like—whether they’d share the same silver hair and sharp eyes as their brothers and sister, or if they’d be different in some way.

Daemon caught your eye, his own smile forming as he noticed your gaze lingering on the children. “Are you thinking about the little one?” he asked softly, his voice carrying a warmth that only he could convey.

You nodded, your hand still gently caressing your stomach. “Yes. They’re very active tonight.”

Daemon chuckled, his eyes glinting with affection. “Seems like they’re just as eager to meet us as the others were.” He turned to the children, who were quietly eating, their attention still on the food before them. “Your sibling’s already making their presence known.”

The three of them looked up, their faces lighting up at the mention of their future sibling. “Is the babe going to be like us, Mama?” Maegon asked, his silver hair falling over his eyes as he eagerly looked up at you.

Vaelya, ever the curious one, added, “Will it be a boy or a girl?”

You smiled, your heart swelling with love for them. “I don’t know yet,” you answered gently. “But I do know that the babe will be just as special as all of you.”

Aerion, who had been quietly playing with his food, looked up and said, “I want to teach them how to play with dragons.”

Daemon’s smile deepened as he leaned forward, his gaze softening. “I have no doubt they’ll be just as adventurous as their older siblings.”

The warmth in the room was palpable, and you couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of contentment. As Daemon leaned in to kiss your forehead, you closed your eyes for a moment, taking in the beauty of the moment. In this little family of yours, there was so much love, so much joy.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely above a murmur. “For everything.”

Daemon’s hand gently squeezed yours as he looked into your eyes, his own filled with nothing but tenderness. “There is no need to thank me,” he said, his voice filled with sincerity. “I’m just happy to be here with you, with our children. This is everything I’ve ever wanted.”

You smiled, content in the warmth of your family, your heart full. It wasn’t just the food, or the children’s laughter—it was this life, the one you had built together, that filled you with a sense of fulfillment.

Tonight, with Daemon and your children by your side, you truly felt at home.

You gazed at Daemon, watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners as he laughed at something Maegon said. Your heart felt full, and for a moment, you hesitated. But then, as you looked down at your growing belly, you knew it was time.

“Daemon,” you called softly, your voice gentle but firm enough to catch his attention.

He turned his head toward you, his sharp gaze immediately softening. “Yes, my love?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, his curiosity piqued.

You glanced at the children, who were still focused on their food and small conversations. Then, you returned your gaze to him, eyes filled with quiet excitement. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

Daemon’s brows furrowed slightly as he leaned forward, his full attention now on you. “What is it? Are you feeling unwell?”

You shook your head, letting out a small breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Your hand rested on your belly, your fingers moving in slow, thoughtful circles. “No, I’m fine. It’s not that.” You met his gaze, your eyes filled with both mischief and love. “It’s about the baby… or rather, babies.”

His eyes flickered with confusion for a heartbeat, his brow arching. “Babies?” he repeated, as if testing the word on his tongue.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yes, Daemon. Twins.”

For a moment, his expression was unreadable. He blinked once, then twice, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard you correctly. Then, a grin—wide, wild, and undeniably Daemon—broke across his face.

“Twins,” he repeated, but this time with the excitement of a man who had just won a great victory. He threw his head back, laughing—a sound so full of joy it echoed through the chamber.

“Seven hells, woman,” he said, his voice filled with unrestrained pride. He stood from his chair, crossing the room in a few long strides before kneeling at your side. His hands cupped your face, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure this was real. “You’re carrying two of them?”

You laughed, finally releasing the breath you’d been holding for so long. “Yes, two. The maester confirmed it weeks ago, but I wanted to be sure before I told you.”

Daemon’s grin never wavered. He pressed a firm kiss to your lips before lowering himself to his knees. His hands gently rested on either side of your belly, his forehead leaning against it as if he were speaking directly to the babies inside.

“Two more dragons for the world to fear,” he murmured, his voice thick with pride and love. “Do you hear that, little ones? Your father is waiting for you. You’ll be fierce and bold, just like your mother.”

The children had stopped eating, their eyes wide with surprise. “Two?” Vaelya gasped, looking between you and Daemon. “Two more babies?!”

Maegon’s face lit up, and he leapt from his chair, his silver hair bouncing as he ran toward you. “Can I name one of them, Mama?” he asked eagerly, climbing up onto the side of your chair.

Aerion was right behind him, his little hands tugging on Daemon’s arm. “Me too! I want to name one too!”

Daemon laughed and scooped up both boys, one under each arm, holding them with ease. “You can give them all the names you like,” he said, his grin never fading. “But the final say will be your mother’s.”

Vaelya crossed her arms, her face scrunched in thought. “I want a sister this time,” she declared firmly. “We already have too many boys.”

Daemon raised a brow at her, his grin still playful. “We’ll see, little dragon.”

You leaned back in your chair, heart light and full of love. Watching them all like this, the children’s excitement, Daemon’s pride—it was everything you could have hoped for.

For a while, you’d carried the secret alone, but now that he knew, it felt as if a great weight had been lifted. And seeing the way his eyes burned with pride and joy, you knew you’d made the right choice to wait.

The Targaryen family was growing, and with Daemon by your side, you knew there was nothing you couldn’t face together.

You lay nestled in the large bed, surrounded by warmth and the gentle weight of your family. Daemon’s arm was draped protectively over you, his body pressed firmly against your back, his warmth lulling you into a sense of peace. His breath was soft against your neck as he whispered, “Comfortable, my love?”

You nodded, letting out a soft hum of contentment. Your hand rested on your swollen belly, fingers tracing gentle circles over the stretched fabric of your nightgown. The soft glow of the firelight flickered across the room, casting golden shadows that danced on the stone walls.

Vaelya lay on your other side, her silver hair fanned out like a halo on the pillow. Her small hand was pressed firmly against your belly, her eyes wide with wonder. When she felt a kick, her face lit up with pure excitement. “I afelt it!” she gasped, turning her gaze to you. “They kicked, Mama! They kicked!”

You smiled down at her, brushing a hand through her hair. “They’re strong, aren’t they?” you said softly. “Just like you.”

Not wanting to be left out, Maegon and Aerion crawled up from the foot of the bed, each of them vying for a chance to feel the babies. “Me too! I want to feel it too!” Aerion declared, his face scrunched in concentration as he pressed his small hands against your belly.

“Move, I was here first!” Maegon argued, trying to shove his brother aside.

“There’s room for both of you,” you laughed, grabbing them both and guiding their little hands to a spot where you had felt movement.

The moment another kick landed, their eyes lit up with awe.

“Did you feel that?!” Maegon’s face was full of wonder, his mouth hanging open. “It’s like they’re fighting in there!”

“I bet it’s a dragon egg hatching,” Aerion said, his face full of seriousness, as if he had solved a grand mystery. “We’ll have dragons in Mama’s belly!”

Daemon let out a deep, hearty laugh behind you, his chest rumbling against your back. “If that’s the case, we’ll need a bigger bed,” he teased, his hand sliding down to cover yours on your belly. “No dragons in here, only warriors.”

“Or princesses,” Vaelya added quickly, shooting her father a defiant look.

“Or princesses,” Daemon agreed with a grin, leaning over to kiss her forehead. “Fierce and unstoppable princesses.”

Aerion yawned loudly, rubbing his eyes before flopping down beside you, his little head resting against your arm. Maegon wasn’t far behind, curling up on Daemon’s other side, his hand still lightly resting on your belly as if he didn’t want to miss another kick.

“Stay,” Vaelya whispered, tucking herself close to your side, her fingers curling against your nightgown. “Don’t go anywhere, Mama.”

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetling,” you whispered, brushing a kiss on her head. “I’m right here.”

Daemon shifted, pulling the covers up over all of you. His hand stayed protectively over your belly, his thumb moving in slow, soothing strokes. “Sleep, my loves,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “I’ll watch over you.”

Surrounded by the warmth of your family, you let your eyes flutter closed. The soft breathing of your children, the steady beat of Daemon’s heart behind you, and the tiny movements of the babies within you all merged into a single, perfect melody.

For this moment, all was right in the world.

As you sat in front of the mirror, one of your attendants carefully braiding your hair while you worked on your daughter Vaelya’s hair. The soft silver strands glistened in the light as you carefully braided them into neat, intricate plaits. You could feel the weight of the day ahead settling on you, but it felt grounding to focus on these small moments. The quiet rhythm of the task, the closeness with your children, and the morning stillness were all moments you cherished.

Vaelya looked up at you, her big eyes full of curiosity as she wiggled in her seat. “Mama, will we see Papa today?”

“Yes, sweetheart,” you said with a smile, finishing the last braid. “After your lessons, we’ll go see him.”

Once you finished, you moved on to Maegon and Aerion, making sure they were dressed and ready for their own lessons in the garden. The three of them, though young, were already eager learners, each with their own personality and way of interacting with the world around them. They had all inherited the silver hair from you and Daemon, a constant reminder of your family’s strength and lineage.

After making sure they were all set, you stood up and led them out of the room, your attendants following behind to ensure everything was in order. You made your way through the Red Keep toward the garden, where the children’s lessons were often held, the smell of fresh flowers filling the air.

As you arrived, the children excitedly ran ahead, eager to see their tutors and begin their lessons. You watched them with a smile, feeling proud of how they were growing and learning every day. Once you were certain they were settled in, you turned your attention to the training yard. You knew Daemon would be there, focused on his sparring and practice, as usual.

Walking toward the training yard, you felt your anticipation build. You could already hear the sounds of swords clashing, the rhythm of battle, as well as the shouts of soldiers and sparring partners. Daemon’s presence was unmistakable, even from a distance. He was always a figure of strength, commanding attention without even trying.

As you entered the yard, you spotted him right away. He was engaged in a match with some of the guards, his movements swift and precise. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him—his dedication to his craft, the way his muscles rippled with each swing of his sword, and the focused look on his face.

You stood back for a moment, content to watch him from afar, savoring the sight of him in his element. The children were with their tutors, and now you could allow yourself to enjoy a quiet moment of watching your husband, feeling a mix of admiration and love for the man who had so much strength, both in body and spirit.

Daemon’s eyes immediately found you among the crowd, his gaze hardening slightly as he noticed the way you were standing there, watching him. His sparring partner paused for a moment, and Daemon stepped away, wiping sweat from his brow as he made his way toward you. His stern expression softened only when he reached your side, and despite his usual strong demeanor, there was a hint of concern in his voice.

“You should be resting, not standing around like this,” Daemon said, his tone laced with a gentle command, but his eyes showing a deep, protective care. “You know you’ve been through so much already. Come, let’s return to our chambers.”

You smiled at him, feeling a playful glint in your eyes as you reached down to touch your swollen belly. “They’re just excited to see you, Daemon. They’re as eager as I am to see you training.” Your words were soft but filled with affection. You felt a small, contented kick from the babies inside you, and you couldn’t help but laugh quietly.

Daemon shook his head, though his lips curled into a slight smile. “You can’t even let me finish one training session without being distracted.” He took a step closer to you, looking at your swollen belly and then back at you with a mixture of frustration and love.

“Please, just sit for a while,” he said, gesturing toward a nearby chair with a sigh. “You need to rest. You’ve been on your feet far too long already.”

With a small sigh of your own, you relented and nodded. “Alright, I’ll sit here, but I’m not going back to the room just yet.”

Daemon’s expression softened, and he placed a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you toward the chair. Once you were seated, he stood next to you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning the training yard and then looking back down at you, his concern evident but softened by the love he had for you.

“You’ll always be stubborn, won’t you?” he murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Only when it matters,” you replied with a wink, and you leaned back into the chair, content to watch him from a distance, knowing that you were surrounded by those you loved and that Daemon would always make sure you were safe.

One of your attendants, noticing your discomfort, approached you with concern. “Princess, are you alright? You seem to be in pain,” she asked softly, her eyes scanning your face for any signs of distress.

Daemon, still focused on his training, didn’t seem to notice the change in your expression. You knew he would worry if he saw how uncomfortable you were, so you hesitated before responding, not wanting to distract him.

“I’m fine,” you said, though your voice betrayed a slight tremor. “Just a little discomfort. Nothing to worry about.”

The attendant wasn’t convinced, however, and placed a gentle hand on your arm. “If you’re not feeling well, perhaps we should return to your chambers and let you rest,” she suggested, her tone gentle but insistent.

You sighed, realizing that the discomfort wasn’t something you could ignore much longer. “Perhaps you’re right,” you finally admitted, giving in to the pain. You turned your gaze back toward Daemon, your heart tightening a little at the thought of interrupting his practice.

But the attendant gently guided you toward your feet, offering support. “We can go to your chambers now, my lady. Let us help you.”

With a reluctant nod, you agreed, standing up slowly, your hand resting on your belly. You could feel the weight of the babies inside you as they shifted and moved. As you turned to leave the training yard, your gaze briefly met Daemon’s. For a moment, he looked up, sensing something was off, but you gave him a reassuring smile, not wanting to worry him.

“We’ll return to the room,” you said softly to him. “Resting for a while.”

Daemon nodded, his eyes still locked on yours for a moment longer. “Be careful,” he called after you, a note of concern in his voice despite his usual hard exterior.

With the attendants supporting you, you slowly made your way back to your chambers, hoping the discomfort would pass soon.

As you continued walking, the discomfort grew stronger, and you could feel the tightening sensation in your abdomen becoming more intense. The familiar pressure and cramps spread across your lower belly, and it became clear that this wasn’t just ordinary discomfort. These were contractions.

You stopped in your tracks, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over you. The attendants, sensing the change in your posture and expression, immediately stopped beside you.

“Princess, are you alright?” one of them asked, her voice laced with worry.

“I need to rest,” you said, though your voice trembled slightly. “Please, send for the maester. I think it’s time.”

The attendant nodded urgently, her face pale with concern. “At once, princess,” she said, and she quickly hurried off to fetch the maester.

The seconds felt like hours as you stood there, gripping your belly, the pain intensifying with each passing moment. You tried to remain calm, but the anxiety of what was happening weighed heavily on you. With the added weight of your growing belly and the pressure of the contractions, it was becoming harder to stand.

Your breathing became shallow, and you could feel a cold sweat on your forehead. It seemed like the universe had decided this was the time for you to deliver, and the reality of it all made your heart race. You could only hope that the maester would arrive in time and that everything would be fine.

You leaned against one of the guards for support as you waited, trying to steady yourself as the contractions continued to come in waves.

You heard the hurried footsteps and the familiar voice of Daemon calling your name with urgency. Turning your head, you saw him rushing toward you, his eyes wide with panic and determination. Relief flooded you at the sight of him.

“It’s time,” you said breathlessly, gripping your belly as another sharp contraction rippled through you. “The babies… they’re coming.”

Daemon’s eyes darted to your swollen stomach, his expression shifting instantly from worry to fierce resolve. Without a moment’s hesitation, he scooped you up in his arms as if you weighed nothing, holding you close to his chest.

“I’ve got you,” he said firmly, his jaw set in determination. “Hold on to me.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, clinging to him as another wave of pain coursed through your body. He moved swiftly but carefully, shouting for the guards and servants as he strode toward your chambers. “Clear the way! Call for the maester now!” His voice was loud and commanding, the kind of voice that no one dared to question.

People in the corridor stepped aside, some of them bowing while others moved to fulfill his orders. Your heart pounded in your chest, each throb echoing the rhythm of your breathing.

Daemon glanced down at you, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Breathe, love. Just breathe. We’re almost there.”

You nodded, though your breaths came in short, uneven gasps. The pain was relentless, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on the steady thud of Daemon’s heartbeat beneath your ear.

By the time you reached your chambers, the maester and a group of midwives had already arrived. Daemon laid you gently on the large bed, brushing a strand of damp hair from your forehead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised, his voice quieter now but no less certain. He knelt by your side, taking your hand in his, his thumb tracing soothing circles on the back of your palm. “You’re strong. You’ve done this before, and you’ll do it again.”

You gave him a tired smile through the pain, gripping his hand tightly as another contraction seized you. “Stay with me,” you whispered, your eyes locked on his.

“Always,” he swore, his eyes never leaving yours.

You lay on the bed, gripping the sheets with trembling hands as another powerful contraction surged through you. The pain was unlike anything you had felt before — sharp, relentless, and all-consuming. A guttural scream tore from your throat, filling the room with echoes of your agony. The midwives moved around you with practiced precision, their calm voices urging you to breathe and push.

“Just a little more, my lady,” the maester said firmly but gently. “The first one is almost here.”

Daemon knelt beside you, his face filled with concern, his hand firmly clasping yours. His other hand brushed through your sweat-soaked hair, his eyes never leaving your face. “Breathe, love,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “You’re stronger than this pain. I’m right here.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you squeezed his hand with all the strength you had left. “It hurts, Daemon,” you gasped, your voice strained and hoarse.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice breaking just a little. “I know, my fierce girl. You can do this.”

Another contraction hit, and you arched your back, crying out as your body bore down with all its might. You could feel the shift, the pressure intensifying as the baby moved lower. The maester’s voice was urgent now.

“One more push! Come now, my lady, one final push!”

With every ounce of strength you had, you bore down, your breath hitching with the effort. Daemon pressed his forehead against yours, grounding you, his murmured encouragements filling your ears. Then, all at once, a sharp release — and suddenly, the room was filled with the shrill, piercing cry of a newborn.

“It’s a boy!” the maester declared as he lifted the tiny, wriggling child into view. The midwives moved quickly, cleaning him and wrapping him in soft cloth.

Tears streamed down your face as you reached for him, but the maester shook his head gently. “Not yet, my lady. We still have another.”

Another? Your heart pounded in your chest. You had been so focused on the first that you’d momentarily forgotten. Daemon squeezed your hand tighter, his eyes wide with awe as he glanced at the newborn being carried to the side. He quickly returned his attention to you, his grip steady and unwavering.

“You’ve got this,” he said with renewed determination. “One more, love. Just one more.”

You nodded weakly, exhausted but driven by the knowledge that another life still waited to enter the world. Another surge of pain hit you, stronger than before. You cried out, and the midwives placed their hands on your belly to guide you.

“Push, my lady! Push!”

You gritted your teeth, bearing down again, sweat slicking your skin as every muscle in your body strained. Daemon’s lips brushed your temple, his words a constant reassurance. “Just a little more. I’m right here. Right here.”

Minutes passed in a blur of pain, tears, and the echoes of your own voice filling the room. Then, the sound you had been waiting for — the sweet, desperate wail of your second child.

“It’s another boy!” the maester announced, his voice filled with relief. The baby cried loudly, his tiny fists waving in the air as he was lifted into view.

“Two sons,” Daemon breathed, his voice filled with awe and disbelief. He leaned down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to your forehead. “You did it, my love. You brought them both here.”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you stared at the two crying infants being wrapped in cloth. Tears streamed down your face, and all you could feel was overwhelming relief and love. Daemon’s hand cupped your cheek, wiping away your tears with his thumb.

“They’re perfect,” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion.

Daemon’s gaze softened as he looked between you and his newborn sons. “Perfect,” he agreed, his eyes shining with pride.

You sat comfortably on the edge of the bed, cradling one of your newborn sons in your arms. His small fingers curled around yours, his eyes barely open as he nestled into your warmth. Daemon sat beside you, holding the other baby with a look of quiet awe, his silver hair falling slightly over his face as he gazed down at his son.

Both of you glanced up as the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. The door swung open, and Maegon, Vaelya, and Aerion burst into the room, their faces filled with excitement and curiosity. Vaelya was the first to climb onto the bed, her wide violet eyes darting between the two babies.

“Are they here?!” Maegon asked breathlessly, his face red from running. He climbed up beside his sister, while Aerion peeked around Daemon, his eyes filled with wonder.

“Yes, they’re here,” you said softly, smiling as you leaned down to show them the baby in your arms. “Come, meet your baby brothers.”

“Two?” Vaelya’s face scrunched up as she looked at both of them. “No fair. I wanted a baby sister.” She crossed her arms with a huff, her silver hair falling over her shoulders.

Daemon chuckled, tilting his head toward her. “You’ll have to take that up with the gods, little one.”

Aerion, on the other hand, stared wide-eyed at the baby Daemon was holding. “They’re so small,” he said in awe. He reached out a careful finger to touch the baby’s tiny hand, gasping softly when the baby’s fingers reflexively gripped his. “He’s strong.”

Maegon knelt on the bed, peering over at the baby in your arms. “He looks like you, Mama,” he said, tilting his head in thought. “But smaller.”

You laughed softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yes, he’s small now, but he’ll grow big and strong, just like you.”

Daemon glanced between the three older children, his gaze warm but firm. “Now, as we promised, it’s up to you three to name your baby brothers. Choose wisely.”

The three of them exchanged looks, their little faces growing serious as they realized the importance of the task. Vaelya tapped her chin thoughtfully, still pouting a little about the lack of a sister. Maegon was already deep in thought, his brow furrowed like a man considering battle strategy.

“I want to name this one,” Aerion declared, pointing to the baby Daemon was holding. “His name should be… Aelor!” His eyes lit up with pride as if he had come up with something truly magnificent.

Daemon raised a brow, glancing at you for approval. You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. “Aelor. A strong name,” you said, looking at the baby in Daemon’s arms. “He looks like an Aelor, doesn’t he?”

Aerion puffed up his chest with pride. “Yes, he does!”

“I want to name the other one,” Maegon said quickly, his voice full of authority as if he had been waiting for this moment. He leaned closer to the baby in your arms, squinting at him with careful scrutiny. “He should be called… Vaegon. It sounds powerful.”

“Vaegon?” Vaelya wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like Maegon. You just took your name and changed it.”

Maegon glared at her. “It’s not the same! It’s different. Vaegon sounds like a prince’s name. A king’s name.” He crossed his arms, daring anyone to challenge him.

Daemon raised a brow, clearly amused. “Vaegon, is it? Fitting for a prince, I suppose,” he said, smirking as he looked to you. “What do you think, love?”

You gazed down at the baby in your arms, his face calm and serene as he slept. “Vaegon suits him,” you agreed softly, brushing your thumb along his soft cheek.

“Then it’s decided,” Daemon declared, his voice loud and firm. “Aelor and Vaegon Targaryen, sons of fire and blood.”

Vaelya huffed, still pouting but clearly not wanting to be left out. “Fine,” she muttered, leaning over to gently touch baby Aelor’s nose. “But if we have another, I get to name her, and I want a sister this time.”

Daemon laughed, his gaze flicking to you knowingly. “That is a bargain you’ll have to strike with your mother,” he said, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you close.

The older children gathered closer, their eyes shining with love and curiosity as they watched their baby brothers sleep. It was a perfect moment — one you would remember forever.

tag list : @danytar @hangmanscoming @yazzzmints @julessworldd

#daemon targeryen x reader #daemon targeryan #hotd daemon #daemon x reader #daemon au #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd one shot #hotd x reader #hotd fanfic #daemon x you #daemon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #prince aegon targaryen #aemond targaryen #hotd aemond #aegon ii fanfic #aegon x reader

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mrscarpenter · 18 days ago

Text

BED CHEM

Jacaerys Velaryon x Dornish!reader

Summary: The Prince gets send to gain a powerful alliance that the house targaryen has wanted for a long period of time, and he stumbles upon you. A gorgeous dornish queen.

Includes/warnings: dornish!reader this is probably horribly written so thats a warning in itself, not proof read but i believe Y/N has been used on multiple occasions. Did not give reader a description other than female & dark black curls. There is an age gap in this (reader is 16, jacaerys is 19, but it is never actually mentioned) like i said, not proof read, if you see any spelling errors feel free to point them out!

🪐notes: idk much abt the dornish, especially not in this timeline/au so please ignore any mistakes. Jace is not engaged to baela in this. :)

from my short & sweet collection

You were standing in the hall of your castle in SunSpear. Waiting for the arrival of the prince Jacaerys Velaryon, heir to the iron throne and prince of DragonStone. Or he would be, had King Aegon Targaryen not usurped the iron throne.

The weather in Dorne was always exceptionally hot, so you wore a sheer gown. One thing about the Dornish was that you were not ashamed of anything, especially not what the gods had given you. The dress was a dark blue, with red and gold detailing, your long black curls hanging loosely over your shoulders.

Once you saw the prince arrive, you stood up straighter, clearing your throat silently, allowing a faked smug expression to fall upon your face.

“Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, to what is the pleasure of your presence owed?”

It was all a different environment to what he was used to at DragonStone. The strong breeze of hot air, the lack of thick winter-like clothing, the more exposed body, the tanned skin... it was all such a strange sight to a prince accustomed to the cold. He bowed gently towards the young Queen of Dorne, and looked at her dress. He admired the work that her seamstresses had to do to look so good on her.

“A pleasure indeed, my lady. May we chat inside? It is quite hot here, I confess.”

you nod curtly. “Of course. i am afraid i am in a bit of a hurry though, many important matters to attend.” You point out a hand, allowing him to walk beside you as you walk up the steps into the castle.

Jacaerys follows you, watching the way you walk and the environment surrounding the palace. The hot air, the sun, the tanned skin.

He looks over at you, trying to figure out more about the queen of Dorne. “You are quite young, my lady. Not that I'm much older, but tell me what's it like being queen so young?”

“I am quite used to it. I have been Dorne’s ruler since i was 6 summers old. The Dornish are respectable people, and very direct. It hasn’t always been easy, but it felt natural.” You spoke.

Jacaerys nodded as you walked, thinking it was somewhat impressive someone that young could ever rule. He smiled slightly at your comment.

“I can see the directness in you already, if you'll forgive my boldness. You don't seem like you're the type of woman to beat around the bush, are you?”

Jacaerys was trying to figure you out, as any man with an interest in women would do. He walked beside you as you both spoke, trying to gauge his chances.

after a few seconds you speak up “No, i indeed am not. And i do not expect anyone else to either, if i step on anyone’s toes with my words, they are not company i should keep.”

That comment made Jacaerys smile, appreciating your honest nature. He couldn't deny how attractive blunt honesty was, especially in a place where everyone was so used to keeping secrets and making alliances all the time. “So you speak plainly?”

He knew women with bluntness often became some of the most interesting ones. And a queen, with an attitude like that, made a very intriguing proposition. As curious as your boldness made him, he couldn't deny his physical interests.

That dress... Gods...

You bring him out of his thoughts with your reply. “Yes i speak plainly, and so should you, Prince Jacaerys.” You spoke softly, almost gentle-like. It was very refreshing.

Jacaerys took a long look at your body, his eyes slowly glancing at the details of your dress. The way the skirt of the dress swayed with your movements and how the gown itself left little to the imagination. The way your curly locks dangled and moved. The way your skin shone with the sun's blessing...

His gaze finally returned to your face, the soft features combined with the dark eyes and long wavy hair. He couldn't deny what was crossing his mind right now. Your blunt nature, combined with the way you looked, was certainly making him wish for things.

He couldn't help himself, as he took another look at you, before finally speaking. “That must come in handy for a queen like you, my lady. You're much less... complicated than one would expect from a ruler.”

Jacaerys approached one step closer, his eyes still locked on yours.

“If I may ask, are you married or betrothed by any chance?”

Your blunt words, your direct manner, and your pretty face only encouraged his desires. And it seemed the prince was rather blunt with his intentions as well.

Your eyes locked with his, as he asked the question you were certain was coming.

Of course, he must be interested in some deal. Just like any man, the prince wouldn't be able to simply let a beautiful young queen pass by.

You took a moment to think, wondering what to share.. or perhaps hide. "No, my prince. I am unmarried."

The corner of Jacaerys' mouth curled into a small, cocky smile. "Oh, is that so?"

A hint of teasing was clear in his voice, his eyes still looking for something in yours.

"Well, I suppose that does have some upsides."

He took another step closer, until he was at an arm's distance. The young prince could smell the scent of the air in Dorne, the sun-kissed skin, and the expensive perfumes of a queen. "Tell me, how might a man catch the interest of the queen of Dorne?"

The prince's voice had the tone of teasing, making your eyebrow raise slightly. His sudden proximity also caught you slightly off guard, his physical interests becoming very clear to you.

You couldn't deny how handsome he was. And you guessed perhaps you could use a bit of fun, considering you were unmarried and in your youthful prime.

You tilted your head slightly, looking up at him, his eyes burning a hole through your face. "Hm... What are you offering? Your family is at war, are they not? your visit is political.”

The prince let out a quiet chuckle, letting his eyes wander over your body for a moment.

The dress was certainly eye-catching, the way it hugged your curves, allowing his imagination to let loose...

The words you spoke only made his eyes find their way back to your own, and the smirk he had on his face only grew.

"Is the possibility of a political alliance enough to catch your interest, my lady?"

You watched the prince's eyes as they caressed your body, the boldness in his gaze, and the clear interest that you knew was there. You knew how to take advantage of an opportunity..

"Depends on what kind of a deal you're suggesting, my prince." There was an undeniable flirtation in your voice, your own subtle way of teasing him.

The prince didn't hide the smirk that spread across his face after that statement. His hand slowly reached over to your waist, his touch feeling the silky fabric of your dress.

"Would a marriage perhaps suffice?"

Your dress, as thin as it already was, provided no barrier against his touch. You could feel each stroke of his fingers, his thumb moving in circular motions against the thin fabric.

The marriage proposal was expected, but it seemed the prince had a more hands-on approach in mind.

You kept a straight face, not to give away how your mind was beginning to wander with the possibility of a marriage. "What would I gain? And what would you expect in return?"

He didn't let your serious expression stop his hands from wandering over the silk of your gown, his hand moving across your waist and down your side. "You would gain protection, support, and a powerful alliance."

"And I would gain..." He leaned closer, his breath against your skin, "A gorgeous Dornish queen as a wife..."

Your heart began to race as his words and his hand continued it's exploration of your side, the anticipation of where those hands might end up was growing.

The prince's proximity and the way he slowly looked at you, expecting some kind of reaction. You stayed firm, holding back the subtle reaction you felt with his words.

"Hm... We might have a deal, my prince."

And with that, his lips ended on yours.

Requested by: @avatar4life

explore post. masterlist.

please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. <3

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys x reader #hotd jacaerys #prince jacaerys #jacaerys x you #jacaerys fanfiction #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jace velaryon #jacaerys velaryon one shot #harry collet #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd jace #jacaerys oneshot #₊˚⊹ daydreams.

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omgkatherine01 · 1 month ago

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Beauty of A Dragon (Aemond Targaryen One Shot)

Summary: Your twin brother comes for you at night.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Targaryen reader

Masterlist (requests are currently open for now)

Warning: Incest, Smut.

Aemond had been Prince Regent for a few months now, and although the Valyrian steel of the Conqueror’s crown didn’t rest upon his head yet, it was now an undeniable fact to every member of the realm that he had been born for this. All could finally witness his real worth, his superiority and how good he was at being a commander, a King.

No, he excelled at it. The Blacks haven’t even dared to approach King’s Landing even once in the last few months, and under his command all fear him, all obey him. He was far better at this than his father ever was, than his older sister ever will be, and certainly than his broken brother is, tucked in his bed.

His new duties obliged him to be away often, to ride Vhagar and lead his armies on the usurpers who wanted to decimate them and take his city, but when he was back in the Red Keep, all he sees is you.

His twin sister.

He walked into your chambers using the secret tunnels, and saw you by your bed, pulling down your robes to go to bed.

He approached silently from behind you, but you could sense him. You looked at him over your shoulder and smirked lightly, "Nice try."

Aemond chuckled softly, the sound low and intoxicating in the stillness of the night. “You always were too sharp for your own good, sister,” he replied, stepping closer, the heat radiating from his body wrapping around you like a cloak.

With a practiced ease, he moved to the side of your bed, leaning against the ornate post, his sapphire eye glinting with mischief and hunger. You turned fully to face him, your heart racing at the sight of him—tousled hair framing his angular face, lips slightly parted as though they had just whispered secret promises.

"Are you disappointed now?" you teased softly as you stepped closer to his body. He hummed, tucking his head into the crook of your neck, lavishing it with a hungry touch of his lips.

His breath was warm against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. “Disappointed? Not in the slightest,” he murmured, his words laced with an intoxicating blend of desire and mischief. “In fact, I find it quite the opposite.”

Aemond’s arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer until there was no space left between the two of you. The world outside faded into a distant memory; it was just you and him amidst the flickering candlelight of your chamber, where shadows danced around you like whispers of longing.

You tilted your head back, exposing more of your neck to him, an unspoken invitation that made his fingers twitch with eagerness. He nipped at the delicate skin there, drawing a soft gasp from your lips. “You know I can’t resist you,” he growled lowly, his voice thick with want.

Together you collapsed onto the plush bed, laughing breathlessly as he landed beside you. His fingers traced the delicate outline of your jaw, moving down to your collarbone, igniting a trail of heat wherever he touched. “You’re too tempting for your own good, sister,” he murmured, his voice dropping an octave as though sharing an intimate secret meant only for you.

Your heart raced in response, the thrill of having him so close overpowering the weight of propriety that lingered like a shadow in the corner. “And yet, here we are,” you whispered back, your own fingers slipping through his hair, tugging him closer still until his lips hovered just above yours.

He captured your mouth with fervor, kissing you with a hunger that had been building during his long absences. The taste of him was intoxicating; a mix of heat and desire that left you breathless, yearning for more. Aemond pulled away for just a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Tell me to stop,” he challenged softly, though you both knew it was a challenge neither of you wished to accept.

“I would never,” you breathed, your resolve crumbling under the weight of his gaze. Aemond's lips curled into a smirk, a predator reveling in the thrill of the chase.

With that unspoken understanding, he captured your mouth again, deeper this time, as if he intended to draw every breath from your lungs. His hands explored your body with a fervency that set your skin alight; fingers skimming down the curve of your waist, over the swell of your hips, igniting every nerve in their path.

“Gods, how I’ve missed this,” he whispered against your lips, before trailing kisses down the side of your neck. Each brush of his mouth sent delightful shivers coursing through you, a beautiful torture that made you arch against him instinctively.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, urging him closer as if you could meld into him completely. “And I you,” you confessed breathlessly.

Aemond's hand slid beneath your robes, his calloused fingers tracing patterns on your bare skin. You shivered at his touch, arching into him as he explored the curves of your body with a reverent hunger. His lips found yours again, capturing them in a searing kiss that left you breathless and aching for more.

With practiced ease, he unlaced your robes, peeling them away to reveal your naked form beneath. His eye roamed over you appreciatively, drinking in every detail as if committing it to memory. "Beautiful," he murmured, voice thick with desire. "Always so beautiful."

You reached for him, tugging at his own clothing with impatient hands. He chuckled softly, helping you remove the layers until he was as bare as you.

Aemond's scarred body pressed against yours, skin to skin, as his lips found yours once more. The kiss deepened, tongues dancing in a passionate duel as his hands roamed your curves. You arched into his touch, fingers tracing the hard planes of his chest and back.

He trailed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking at your pulse point. A soft moan escaped your lips as he lavished attention on your breasts, tongue swirling around each nipple. His hand slid lower, caressing your inner thigh before finding your wet heat. You gasped as he stroked you, building the pleasure with practiced skill.

"Please, Aemond," you whimpered, hips rocking against his hand. He smirked against your skin before positioning himself between your thighs. With one smooth thrust, he entered you fully, both of you groaning in unison. The sensation of him filling you, of the heat and hardness of his body pressed against yours, was enough to send shivers down your spine.

Aemond's hips began to move in a hard, demanding rhythm, driving himself deeper inside you with each thrust. Your nails dug into the comforter, the pleasure building within you like an inferno waiting to blaze out of control. His name escaped your lips on a gasp as he angled his hips just so, hitting that delicious spot deep within.

"That's it," he growled in your ear. "Let me hear you moan for me, sister."

His words only served to fan the flames of desire coursing through your veins. With each movement, Aemond brought you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. The room was filled with the sounds of your passion—heavy breathing, moans of pleasure, and the rustling of sheets tangled around entwined limbs.

As the rhythm of your bodies intensified, Aemond's lips found yours again in a searing kiss. His tongue danced with yours as his hips continued their relentless pace. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even deeper inside you. The new angle drew a guttural moan from Aemond's throat.

"Gods, you feel incredible," he panted against your neck.

Your fingers raked down his back as waves of pleasure washed over you. Every nerve ending felt electrified. Aemond's muscular body moved above you with fluid grace, his skin glistening with a thin sheen of sweat in the candlelight. You marveled at the raw power contained in his lithe form.

He shifted slightly, bracing himself on one arm while his other hand snaked between your bodies. His fingers found that sensitive bundle of nerves and began trailing exquisite circles that sent you spiraling further into bliss. You gasped, the sensations overwhelming as pleasure built like a raging storm inside you.

"Aemond," you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, yet it carried the weight of your need. He lifted his head to meet your gaze, those piercing violet eyes darkened with lust and fierce determination.

"Look at me," he commanded softly, an order wrapped in velvet. You complied willingly, locking your eyes onto his as the world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, lost in this moment, this tempest that had long been brewing between siblings forged by fire and fate.

He quickened his pace, thrusting deep and hard, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the chamber. Each movement ignited sparks beneath your skin; every brush of his fingers brought another wave of pleasure crashing over you. Aemond's breath became ragged as he leaned closer, his forehead resting against yours as if seeking the solace that only you could provide. “I want to feel you come undone for me,” he murmured, his voice thick and heated, vibrating through both of you.

Your breath hitched at his words, a shiver of anticipation coursing through your body as he moved with unrelenting intensity. The tension coiling in your core grew tighter, winding around your heart like a serpent ready to strike. You could feel the familiar spark gathering, becoming a blazing inferno ready to consume you whole.

“No one else,” you gasped, the thought of anyone else in this moment felt sacrilegious. “Only you.” The declaration felt primal and raw, binding you both in a way that transcended the physical realm.

Aemond’s eyes flashed with something fierce at your promise, his movements growing more desperate, more possessive. He captured your mouth again in a kiss that was both claiming and tender—a reminder of who you were to each other amidst the chaos of the outside world. Aemond poured every ounce of himself into the kiss, each thrust echoing the rhythm of your hearts beating as one. You surrendered completely to him, your body arching upwards to meet his every move, urging him deeper, higher.

“Feel me, sister,” he breathed against your lips, the words a command and a plea. “Let go.”

With every stroke, you could feel the storm inside you reaching its peak—an avalanche of sensation that threatened to sweep you both away. It built and built, swallowing you whole until there was nothing left but the two of you entwined in passion.

Aemond's fingers worked their magic, sending ripples of pleasure cascading through you. “That’s it,” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with possessiveness, as if he were staking a claim not just on your body, but on your very soul. “Let it go.”

His intensity drove you onwards until with a final thrust, the dam broke, and you were swept away in a tide of ecstasy. The world around you shattered into a million brilliant fragments as the pleasure surged through every fiber of your being. Your cries filled the chamber, echoing off the stone walls, intertwining with Aemond’s deep groans as he followed you over the precipice.

Your body convulsed beneath him, waves of bliss crashing over you like a violent sea—each pulse igniting a fire that burned brightly in your core. Aemond’s grip on you tightened, his own release flooding through him in tandem with yours, creating an intoxicating blend of sensations that left you both gasping for breath.

As the intensity of your shared climax began to ebb, Aemond's movements slowed to a gentle rhythm. He pressed his forehead against yours, both of you panting softly as you basked in the afterglow. The air around you felt charged, crackling with the energy of your passion.

Aemond's eye met yours, a storm of emotions swirling in its depths. His fingers traced the curve of your cheek with surprising tenderness. "My beautiful sister," he murmured, voice husky. "My Queen."

You shivered at his words, feeling the truth of them resonate deep within you. Whatever crowns or thrones awaited outside these chamber walls, here in this moment, you ruled together absolutely.

Slowly, reluctantly, Aemond withdrew from you. But he didn't move far, instead gathering you close against his chest. You nestled into his embrace, feeling the steady thrum of his heart beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm that grounded you in this turbulent world. The warmth of his skin against yours was a soothing balm, and you closed your eyes, savoring the intimacy of these quiet moments together.

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #hotd #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #one shot #aemond oneshot

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diamantar · 1 year ago

Text

LLAMA SECRETA

→ Rhaenyra Targaryen + Daemon Targaryen x fem!OC [Haella Targaryen] (ft. Aegon Targaryen)

✦ Sinopsis: La posibilidad de ser feliz finalmente aparece luego de insufribles años de matrimonio con Aegon, pero, ¿superará el miedo a las consecuencias?

✦ Advertencias: Incesto / Poliamor / Diferencia de edad / Matrimonio arreglado / Engaño / Violencia / Angst / Confort.

✦ Pedido: Si, de Wattpad.

—¡Haella! ¿Dónde está Aegon?

Frenó ante la voz de su madre y giró, rápidamente notando el manojo de nervios y ansiedad que era.

—Durmiendo. Intenté despertarlo, pero me echó vociferando maldiciones —suspiró profundo—. La resaca es intensa y aún no he visto a los niños, iba a ordenar que alguien se ocupara de él.

Alicent mordió el interior de la mejilla izquierda y negó, la actitud del Targaryen siendo extremadamente decepcionante y común.

—Yo lo hago, tu sigue y fijate que todos estén listos.

—Entendido.

Separándose, la joven colocó una mano sobre el estómago y cerró los ojos aplicando distintos ejercicios de respiración. En breve la herencia de Lucerys Velaryon sobre Marcaderiva sería cuestionada y todos quienes quisieran reclamar el trono estarían presentes, incluyendo los partidarios y representantes de cada opción. Aquello definitivamente incluía a Rhaenyra y Daemon, los cuales escuchó que llegaron al amanecer.

El simple hecho de saber que las personas que realmente amaba, con quienes hubiera deseado compartir su vida, ocupaban la Fortaleza Roja la hacía temblar. Eternos, tortuosos y angustiosos años pasaron desde que los vio, tanta vigilancia y embarazos impidiendo que pudiera escapar a Rocadragón a al menos pasar una noche con ellos. Cartas y regalos fue el único intercambio que lograron, aunque el mantenerse lejos le provocaba inmenso temor. Ser madre y la progresión de edad marcaron grandes cambios físicos, además que al no estar junto a ambos era fácil que la olvidaran y dejaran de querer… ¿Seguirían anhelando por ella una vez que la vieran?

Sacudió la cabeza y evitó arrancarse la piel alrededor de los dedos, directamente ingresando a la habitación donde sus dos hijas menores descansaban. Sonrió al verlas despiertas y desayunadas, las sirvientas vistiéndolas con finas ropas mientras jugaban con muñecos.

—Buen día —saludó absolutamente amorosa inclinándose en medio para abrazarlas—. ¿Durmieron bien?

—¡Si, e incluso soñamos lo mismo! —respondieron al unísono, según Mellos siendo una característica común en gemelos y gemelas

—¿De verdad? ¿Qué fue? —preguntó genuinamente interesada, en el proceso buscando un broche de cabello a cada una.

—¡Volábamos!

—¡En la noche!

—¡Sobre dragones!

—¡Contigo!

El canturreo intercalado y organizado sorprendió a todas las presentes, Haella inclinando la cabeza por el extraño panorama que planteaban.

—¿Disfrutaron el paseo? —siguió el juego sintiendo ligera pena al ninguna de ellas poseer un dragón.

—¡Mucho! ¡Dorado y rojo! —exclamaron, y eso le hizo fruncir el ceño al no tener razón.

Inspirando y encogiendo los hombros, dio breves indicaciones a las sirvientas y partió a la recamara de su hijo mayor, el cual empezaba a salir cuando llegó.

—Buen día, ¿cómo estás? —preguntó pellizcando suave su mejilla derecha.

—Se supone que es mi jornada libre, ¿por qué tengo que despertar temprano? —refunfuño con el ceño fruncido.

—Lo siento, mi amor, como príncipe hay responsabilidades que debes atender —inclinó la cabeza reconociendo la frustración—. En compensación trataré que mañana tengas menos clases.

—¿De verdad? —inquirió dubitativo, pero el semblante ya cambiaba a uno esperanzado.

Haella le guiñó un ojo y lo abrazó por la espalda para que caminara con ella, en calma admirando uno de los jardines internos hasta que notó a Joffrey pasear junto una niñera. El corazón dio un vuelco y rápido buscó por Rhaenyra o Daemon, pero no encontró a ninguno en las cercanías.

—Vamos al salón principal, nos esperan.

Sin hablar demasiado llegaron y ambos titubearon un momento por la multitud que esperaba el inicio de la audiencia. Los llegados de Rocadragón no estaban presentes, así que con más calma avanzó hacia su abuelo y hermanos.

—¿Dónde está Aegon? —preguntó Otto mientras Helaena sonreía y saludaba al niño.

—Intenté despertarlo… —murmuró levantando la manga del vestido y enseñando rojizos rasguños—. Madre fue hacerlo ella misma.

Disgustado por la noticia, el Hightower asintió y les dejó para ir con el resto del Consejo Privado.

—Asumo que te defendiste y también lo golpeaste un poco, ¿verdad? —inquirió Aemond inclinándose a hablarle al oído.

—Como siempre —suspiró cansada, y él soltó una corta y seca risa.

—Esperemos que llegue a tiempo.

Sin decir más giró el rostro y descubrió que Vaemon Velaryon y Rhaenys Targaryen ya estaban allí. Una de las hijas de Laena se mantenía de pie junto a la rubia y por un segundo conectaron miradas, cortésmente realizando un pequeño asentimiento.

—Están aquí —dijo Helaena en alivio manteniendo ambas manos sobre los hombros de su sobrino.

Alicent y Aegon ingresaron tensos y con expresiones agrias mientras las gemelas revoloteaban igual que mariposas. Risueñas y extrovertidas, saludaron a cada persona y ganaron sonrisas ante tan encantadora actitud, el rubio siendo incapaz de sacudir la resaca e imitar un mínimo a las pequeñas.

—Esposa —saludó al llegar e inclinarse a besarle la mano.

—Esposo —respondió indiferente al saber que madre le había obligado a mostrar respecto.

Tomaron posición y Haella se encargó de mantener a las jóvenes entretenidas junto a breves ayudas de Aemond, inevitablemente tensándose cuando Alicent murmuró que Rhaenyra había llegado. Sumamente nerviosa miró a la entrada y observó como toda la familia ingresaba, la mencionada estando a la cabeza junto a Daemon. Verlos le quitó el aliento y sintió la cabeza ligera, por un momento perdiendo balance y dando un paso en falso.

—¿Qué te sucede? —preguntó Aegon con cierto enfado.

—Me marea tu peste a alcohol —respondió en mismo tono, y él chasqueó la lengua evitando pelear.

Los niños que tanta polémica traían crecieron en bellos jóvenes, especialmente Jacaerys que mantenía la espalda recta y orgullosa ante cualquier mirada desdeñosa. Por su parte, el hermano del Rey usaba el cabello por los hombros y era un estilo nuevo que hasta ese entonces jamás había atestiguado, Rhaenyra manteniéndose tan hermosa como la recordaba.

Acelerada y con el estómago estrujado, giró la cabeza y prefirió ver como su abuelo se sentaba en el Trono de Hierro. Cada presente lo miró y oyó como este anunciaba que representaría al Rey, la pobre salud de Viserys siendo ningún un secreto para quienes vivían en el castillo.

—Dorado y rojo —murmuró la menor de las niñas, y la otra asintió.

Haella hizo un pequeño sonido para que mantuvieran silencio y sorprendida aguantó el aliento cuando encontró los violáceos ojos de Rhaenyra. Detuvo cualquier movimiento y la vio caminar al centro del pasillo dispuesta a comenzar la audiencia, los irises brillando al reconocerla. Quebraron conexión cuando enfrentó al Hightower, bonitos y definidos labios separándose a decir unas pocas palabras cuando fue interrumpida.

Ante la incredulidad de cada presente, Viserys apareció dispuesto a zanjar él mismo el asunto de Marcaderiva. Encorvado y absolutamente débil avanzó con la Escolta Real mientras Alicent quedaba muda de la impresión y Aemond liberaba un suspiro frustrado. Haella, que de por sí estaba abrumada, perdió aún más sentido de la realidad cuando Daemon avanzó y ayudó a su hermano llegar al trono. Le colocó la corona que había caído y al regresar aprovechó a analizarla, en un parpadeo logrando que rubor la dominara al elevar una ceja y darle un vistazo de arriba a abajo.

Avergonzada rompió nexo y con susto notó que Aemond y su madre observaban. Tragó perdiendo capacidad de funcionar normal y prefirió fijarse en Aegon, el cual ignoraba los detalles y simplemente veía a Rhaenys tomar palabra en símbolo de su esposo.

—Mamá —llamó la mayor de las gemelas, la cual alzaba los brazos con aura suplicante.

Sintiendo pena de antemano por su cintura, Haella la tomó en brazos y la apoyó en una cadera. Con caricias suaves dejó que descansara la cabeza en el cuello y dormitara mientras la Targaryen anunciaba que sus nietas y nietos se hallaban comprometidos, fortaleciendo así el derecho de Lucerys en Marcaderiva.

Alguien maldijo por lo bajo y apreció la desganada expresión en Alicent, la cual miraba el suelo en derrota mientras Vaemond tomaba protagonismo de la situación. El enojo y la agresividad con la que hablaba tensó a más de uno, Aegon pareciendo salir del aburrimiento ante el espectáculo.

—¿Te diviertes? —preguntó por lo bajo a su esposo, el cual sonrió.

—Amanecer tal vez no fue mala idea.

Nuevamente evitó poner los ojos en blanco y con preocupación apreció el estrés en Rhaenyra, tantas emociones definitivamente siendo perjudicial para su embarazo. Rápido buscó a Daemon y este hizo lo mismo, sin palabras compartiendo pensamiento en que el hombre definitivamente era un problema.

—¡Esos niños no son verdaderos Velaryon! —exclamó a todo pulmón, el salón cayendo en profundo silencio—. Ciertamente tampoco familia mía.

Haella inspiró profundo y deseó estar en cualquier lugar en vez de allí, la asustada expresión de Lucerys incentivando el fastidio.

—Es suficiente —contestó Rhaenyra tratando de finalizar la escena.

—No veré años de tradición terminar en favor de estos… —detuvo la frase y volteó hacia la heredera al Trono de Hierro decidiendo si continuar o no.

—Dilo —animó Daemon en tono bajo y amenazante.

Alicent y Otto apenas se movieron por la expectativa, de reojo notando que Helaena era la más incomoda del grupo.

—¡Bastardos! —gritó, enseguida una fina sábana de murmullos cubriéndolos—. Bastardos engendrados por una puta —añadió marcando con fuerza cada palabra, cualquier resentimiento escapando de él en ese momento.

Todos los cabellos de Haella se erizaron y detestó que sus hijos atestiguaran tal falta de respeto, entonces Viserys poniéndose de pie y desenfundando la daga que cargaba.

—Tendré tu lengua por eso —anunció entre respiraciones laboriosas.

Una sensación electrizante los recorrió y rápidamente abrazó más a la niña en brazos, entonces mirando a Daemon y notando que tomaba el mango de Hermana Oscura.

—¡Cierren los ojos! —ordenó desesperada usando el brazo libre para hacer que voltearan.

Apenas logró que se enfoquen en ella cuando la espada cortó la cabeza de Vaemond a la mitad, jadeos resonando mientras alrededor todos saltaban en sorpresa. Alicent tomó a su nieto y se aseguró de que no viera, la menor de las gemelas gritando y haciendo que Otto se ocupara de ella.

—Puede quedarse con la lengua —anunció el Targaryen viendo los restos y el reguero de sangre.

Haella retrocedió y llamó a las niñeras para que le ayudaran a llevarse a los niños, explícitamente indicando que evitaran el cadáver. Pasaron por detrás del publico e intentó consolar a los jóvenes, sin frenar llevándolos a su habitación y usando todo el tiempo necesario para estabilizarlos.

Alicent llegó a la hora y anunció que se realizaría una gran cena familiar según la orden de Viserys, con cariño otorgando caricias a los pequeños mientras le echaba miradas extrañas.

—¿Qué sucede? —preguntó al no lograr descifrar lo que pensaba.

—Durante la audiencia Daemon y Rhaenyra no dejaban de mirarte.

—¿En serio? —frunció el ceño fingiendo desentender—. Ciertamente conectamos un par de veces, pero no noté que se fijaran demasiado.

—De joven solías llevarte bien con ellos —comentó mientras juntaba las manos al frente.

—Sucedió hace mucho, prácticamente son desconocidos —mantuvo la calma incluso si el corazón empezaba a agitarse.

—Evita relacionarte, no traen más que peligro y deshonra.

—Por supuesto —asintió firme y solemne.

La Hightower se conformó e invitó a los niños ir a sus propias habitaciones para almorzar, bañarse y dormir hasta la hora de la reunión.

—Nos vemos luego, también descansa.

—Cuídate, madre.

Quedando a solas al llevarse a todos del cuarto, suspiró pesado y se recostó procesando las emociones del día. Ver a quienes amaba después de tanto tiempo la llenaba de un doloroso anhelo, ya que sabía que no podría estar con ellos y de por vida viviría atada a Aegon.

—Señorita, ¿desea comer?

Brincó del susto y respondió afirmativo a la sirvienta al otro lado de la puerta, la cual ingresó con una bandeja.

—Prepara la tina, cuando termine me asearé.

—Excelente —asintió mientras arreglaba el escritorio y llenaba la copa de vino.

Con poco apuro se alimentó mientras las femeninas arreglaban la ropa que vestiría, al tragar añadiendo que seleccionaran un camisón al también aprovechar a dormir antes de la gran cena.

Apenas finalizó ingresó al agua y dejó que su dama de mayor confianza le lavara el cabello, ausente dejando los minutos pasar hasta que tembló por el frío. Salió y aplicó las fragancias que más disfrutaba, con libro en mano sentándose junto al fuego e intentando que los mechones se secaran antes de acostarse.

La relajación del baño fue mayor al esperado y el quiebre de una madera ante las llamas la despertó, torpe levantándose y yendo a refugiarse en las sábanas. La baja temperatura de la telas le erizó la piel hasta que una vez más se deslizó en la inconsciencia, durante horas logrando ignorar el mundo cuando pequeños roces la obligaron a regresar. Frunció el ceño y movió el rostro al percibir toques cerca de los labios, entonces apreciando una mano que se perdía en el cabello y la mimaba.

—¿Aegon? —preguntó sumamente confundida por la delicadeza y el cariño, aunque el aroma a flores fue una clara señal de que no se trataba del mencionado.

Un pequeño sonido a mofa la alertó y entreabrió los parpados, así notando que el sillón junto la chimenea estaba volteado y alguien lo ocupaba.

—Esperamos no decepcionarte.

Inmediatamente se incorporó y al frotar los ojos encontró a Daemon viéndola con una mueca traviesa y las piernas cruzadas, mientras que Rhaenyra sonreía sentada al borde de la cama.

—¿Qué…? —preguntó torpe por el sueño.

—Desapareciste y no recibimos señales de que quisieras vernos, así que te buscamos.

—Los niños quedaron asustados y luego recibí advertencias… No quería levantar sospechas.

—¿Cuál de los Hightower? —preguntó el hombre inclinando la cabeza.

—Mamá.

—¿Con qué palabras nos halagó? —indagó enarcando una ceja.

Suspirando y rodando el cuello, permitió que Rhaenyra la tomara de la mano y le acariciara con el pulgar.

—Recordó que nos llevábamos bien y aconsejó que mantuviera distancia, ya que al perecer traen peligro y deshonra —confesó, y al decirlo la incomodidad le calentó las orejas.

—Si se preocupara tanto por ti no te hubiera casado con Aegon —retrucó venenoso tensando la mandíbula.

—Al menos estando con él pudo seguir viviendo aquí y tener la ocasional oportunidad de verlos.

—¿Has deseado por nosotros? —preguntó la femenina en tono gentil.

Haella encogió los hombros y miró la pared sin saber que decir, especialmente al desconocer donde paraba la relación de los tres.

—Tal vez.

—Eres imprecisa —presionó Daemon apoyándose en uno de los brazos del sillón.

—Las circunstancias han cambiado desde la última vez que estuvimos juntos.

—Tus cartas enseñaban cariño y añoranza, ¿acaso has cambiado? —indagó Rhaenyra inclinando la cabeza y viéndola atenta—. ¿Tienes a alguien más?

—¿Disculpa? —preguntó sorprendida elevando ambas cejas y dejando los labios entreabiertos.

—Por experiencia sé lo que es estar en un matrimonio incompatible y como la calidez de otros brazos reconfortan cuando estás lejos de quien quieres.

Por unos momentos olvidó cómo hablar y dejó los labios entreabiertos, pero finalizó por negar con la cabeza.

—Mi hermano ciertamente no es el esposo que hubiera deseado, pero tampoco busqué un amante, tengo hijos a los que no quiero perjudicar con mis acciones.

—Aegon, en cambio, puede hacer lo que quiera —acotó Daemon.

—Por mi que continúe, lo que sea para evitar compartir cama con él —bufó alterando de actitud y luciendo más vívida que antes.

—¿Te trata bien? —preguntó Rhaenyra sentándose mejor ante el repentino cambio.

—Apenas nos vemos y cuando interactuamos terminamos peleando, ¿quién pensó que casarme con mi gemelo sería buena idea? —gruñó echándole una mirada al hombre y viendo que sonreía.

—Me sorprende que pudieran engendrar.

—Un cometido que no hubiéramos podido lograr sin alcohol, aunque Aegon vive ebrio —rodó los ojos al tiempo que inspiraba profundo—. Agradezco que esas ocasiones no sean más que recuerdos vagos bajo el mareo de la bebida.

—¿No han dormido juntos desde las gemelas? —indagó el mayor afilando la mirada, cada detalle que pudiera obtener siendo oro.

—El día que nacieron hubo un momento donde pactamos que nuestras obligaciones como pareja finalizaron. Tres hijos son suficientes.

—Por lo que, ¿en estos últimos dos años solo has encontrado consuelo en ti misma?

—¿Viniste a ser un pervertido? —regañó con mejillas sonrosadas.

—Ciertamente no —intervino Rhaenyra mirando a su esposo en regaño.

—¿Entonces cuál es la intención?

—Salvarte —respondió la Targaryen con una postura que captó la atención de ambos—. Consideramos que lo sabes, pero eres importante para nosotros y nos encantaría que viviéramos juntos.

Haella elevó ambas cejas y retrocedió unos centímetros, en blanco viéndola sin ser capaz de pensar.

—¿Cómo? —frunció el ceño como si hubiera expresado algo incoherente.

—Imaginar tu estadía aquí, compartiendo tu vida con alguien como Aegon… Deseamos estar contigo, las cartas no son suficiente.

—Nunca lo fueron —añadió Daemon ajustado posición y jugando con un anillo—. Un pedazo de pergamino jamás podría reemplazar tu presencia.

Nerviosa y halagada amagó a sonreír, pero la implicación de tales deseos empezaba a oprimirle el pecho.

—Suponía que el interés en mí se borraría con el pasar de los años. Siendo sinceros, ¿no soy más que un juguete que quitarle a los Hightower?

El miedo a ser un capricho resistía incluso cuando ambos vivían en la Fortaleza Roja, donde recién encontraba el amor e idealizaba una vida de fantasía. Conocía el desagrado entre Otto y Daemon al igual que la antigua relación entre Rhaenyra y su madre, por lo que no podía evitar formular negativas teorías.

—Por supuesto que no —contestó la mujer, en el ceño fruncido notándose la ofensa de que pensara así.

—Espero que entiendan mi inseguridad —aclaró rápido—. Ustedes han podido estar juntos y crear una familia mientras yo formaba otra vida que solo conocían a través de cartas. No es lo mismo.

—Ciertamente —coincidió Daemon al tiempo se ponía de pie—. Aunque debes recordar que nosotros nos unimos luego de años distanciados, apenas sabíamos del otro y aún así quemábamos en añoranza, ¿por qué sería distinto contigo?

Un extraño calor surgió en el pecho de Haella y bajó la mirada, inconscientemente mordiendo el labio inferior ante la realización de que realmente era apreciada por las personas que amaba. Rhaenyra acunó una de sus mejillas y sonrió reconfortante, enseguida inclinándose a besarla de manera suave y tentativa. La joven sintió la consideración y correspondió en señal de que el acto era de agrado, logrando que ella sonriera y la acariciara con el pulgar en el proceso de separarse.

—¿Puedo asumir que nuestros sentimientos son los mismos? —preguntó complacida.

—Absolutamente —asintió pequeño con la piel erizada en nervios y excitación.

La cama se hundió y Haella miró al hombre, la intención en su mirada siendo clara y evitando palabras cuando era su turno de poseerla. El momento fue absolutamente diferente y liberó un pequeño jadeo al sentir que una mano iba a sostenerla entre el cuello y el mentón, la intensidad y dominación surgiendo desde el inicio incluso si no era especialmente agresivo.

—Espera… —murmuró apenada y conmovida en sensaciones poco usuales.

—¿Por qué? —preguntó fingiendo desentender mientras con los labios recorría zonas de piel cercanas y sensibles.

Rhaenyra sonrió disfrutando de lo fácil que se avergonzaba y bajó las pupilas a la única tela que la cubría, en eso mirando rápido la puerta cuando golpearon por entrar.

—¿Ha despertado, señorita?

El tono de la sirvienta congeló a la joven y rápido empalideció ante el peligro de ser descubierta, desesperada mirándolos y apreciando como ambos se elevaban.

—Nos vemos en la cena —murmuró la femenina mientras Daemon asentía y la tomaba de la cintura.

Se acercaron a uno de los muros en el proceso que Haella buscaba un abrigo, asombrada documentando como desaparecían a través de un pasaje secreto.

—Puedes entrar —anunció fuerte, entonces una mujer de mediana edad ingresando.

—Es hora de comenzar con los arreglos.

La Targaryen asintió e indicó que comenzaría lavándose el rostro, después de eso entregándose a que la embelleciera. El vestido verde oscuro abrazó su cuerpo y brilló en combinación con el collar y los aretes de diamante, luego las experimentadas manos dirigiéndose a trenzar el cabello de manera que su cuello y hombros quedaran despejados.

—¿Terminado? —preguntó cuando revisaba los últimos detalles.

—Si, Princesa —asintió dejando que se viera.

La imagen en el espejo realmente no importaba cuando era un panorama conocido luego de tantas veces que debió lucir femenina y formal, por lo que eligió dejarlo e ir por sus hijos. Conociendo que las gemelas pasarían la velada en la guardería, directamente fue por el mayor y sonrió al verlo con un traje nuevo.

—Te ves esplendido en el obsequio de tu abuelo —sonrió encantada tocando la felpa negra del saco.

—Gracias —respondió seco por la timidez, aunque en silencio apreciaba como las prendas le favorecían.

En breve salieron y fueron al salón, donde prácticamente toda la familia se encontraba hablando. Ambos miraron y dudaron a que grupo acercarse, y la idea de ir con Aemond quedó descartada ante la expresión seria y agría que cargaba.

—Buenas noches, madre —saludó cuando Alicent cortó distancia.

Ella sonrió estresada y miró al joven halagando la manera en que lucía, entonces dos sombras aproximándose y tensándolas al saber que era la pareja Targaryen que más las sacudía. Rhaenyra rompió hielo con amable formalidad y la Reina le imitó, Daemon manteniendo su pequeña sonrisa usual hasta que se fijó en el joven.

—En la tarde te he visto entrenar con espada —comentó de manera desinteresada inclinando la cabeza, casi intentando lucir amigable.

—Ah, lamento no haber notado su presencia —respondió ligeramente intimidado tratando de mantener la cortesía.

—Parecías realmente adecuado, ¿te agrada?

—Disfruto de las actividades físicas.

—Posees habilidad, me gustaría practicar contigo en la siguiente oportunidad.

—S-Sería un honor —asintió nervioso poniendo la espalda recta.

Daemon miró a Haella y ella sonrió educada intentando no levantar sospechas.

—¿Imagino que las niñas estarán en su propio espacio al igual que Joffrey? —inquirió Rhaenyra.

—Correcto, aún son muy jóvenes para pasar una cena entera sin levantarse, llorar o corretear.

—Deberíamos hacer que pasen tiempo juntos, seguro disfrutarán la compañía del otro —opinó Daemon mirando a su esposa por aprobación, la cual sabía que tendría—. Estrechar la familia, como Viserys desea.

Alicent carraspeó y asintió indicando que en la próxima visita se ocuparían de aquello, acto seguido llamando a Aemond y haciendo que ocuparan la mesa. Cerca de su hermano, ignoró la mirada de éste y sonrió cuando Helaena llegó, aunque la calma duró poco cuando Aegon apareció.

—Esposa —suspiró, y con pesadez se sentó al lado.

—Esposo —contestó analizando si ya estaba ebrio o no—. Reconoce la presencia de tu hijo —regañó.

El Targaryen elevó las cejas desprevenido y miró al joven forzando una mueca extraña, sin palabra estirando un brazo y dándole unas palmadas en la mejilla. Alicent ganó alivio al ver que se encargaban de mantener las apariencias, fugaz fijándose en los invitados antes de que la Guardia Real abriera las puertas. Sobre un trono movible, los hombres más fuertes cargaban el dañado cuerpo de Viserys entre elegantes ropas, joyería y una máscara que ocultaba mitad de su putrefacto rostro.

—Tomen asiento y disfruten —anunció una vez que lo acomodaron en la cabecera.

Cada uno hizo caso y, en un acuerdo silencioso, evitaron las rivalidades manteniendo buen carácter. De todas maneras, Aemond, parecía poseer dificultades y frío escaneaba los jóvenes de Rhaenyra, en especial a quien fue responsable de herirlo de por vida.

Haella, consciente de la sed de venganza, vigiló hasta que Lucerys soltó una baja risa al los sirvientes poner un gran cerdo cocido cerca de su hermano. Apretó los labios ante el recuerdo de la cruel broma que le jugaron de niño y apreció la furia surgir desde lo profundo del Targaryen. Suspiró en derrota conociendo que de alguna manera cobraría aquella burla y nerviosa recurrió al vino, con copa en labios mirando a Daemon y casi atragantándose cuando él le guiñó un ojo. Rápido analizó alrededor y disimulada carraspeó por el líquido que se desvió hacia el conducto pulmonar, entonces Viserys tomando palabra y dando un prolongado discurso donde exponía la felicidad de tenerlos reunidos. El inquebrantable deseo de ser una gran familia unida persistía y la mayoría de los presentes bien sabía que aquello no progresaría, aunque por un momento la fantasía pareció convertirse en realidad cuando Rhaenyra y Alicent intercambiaron cándidas palabras.

Los jóvenes se miraron desconcertados y Haella buscó descifrar las emociones de su abuelo, aunque, para gran sorpresa, este ya le veía e hizo un gesto a que interviniera a romper el momento de reconciliación. Con la mente nublada al no querer la atención de la mesa sobre ella, inquieta agarró la copa y arrastró la silla hasta apoyarse en ambos pies.

—Me gustaría decir algunas palabras —anunció en tono acelerado, con ligero temblor aguantando la necesidad de colocar una mano sobre el pecho—. Quiero brindar por esta cena compartida entre seres queridos, especialmente a mis adorados padres —realizó una pequeña pausa de respecto, a lo que ambos asintieron complacidos—. Festejo este gran reencuentro familiar y dedico este vino a desearles prosperidad… Especialmente a mi esposo e hijos, para que siempre estemos sanos —miró a Aegon, el cual estaba absolutamente desconcertado.

Avergonzada regresó a la silla y evitó prestar atención al resto, ansiosa bebiendo hasta terminar la jarra más cercana.

—Nunca ingieres tanto alcohol, ¿qué sucede? —preguntó su gemelo analizándola como pocas veces.

—Hoy poseo el gusto, nada más —encogió los hombros como si no fuera importante.

El rubio guardó silencio y pensó por largos segundos, finalmente inclinándose a hablarle al oído.

—Las únicas veces donde te embriagaste fue cuando compartimos aposentos, ¿ver tantos niños pudo haber despertado un nuevo deseo de ser madre? —susurró al tiempo que una mano iba sostenerla del muslo.

Haella no pudo evitar la expresión de espanto y rápido volteó, sus rostros quedando a pocos centímetros.

—Pensé que teníamos un acuerdo.

—Si lo deseas puedo hacer el esfuerzo —aseguró, por un segundo viéndole los labios.

La implicación la dejó sin palabras, especialmente porque fielmente creía que compartían el disgusto romántico y sexual por el otro.

—Estamos en publico —regañó regresando a mirar su plato con las mejillas ligeramente coloradas.

—¿Entonces debo proponer un nuevo heredero cuando nos hallemos a solas? —inspiró apretando la tierna carne bajo el vestido.

Sin dudar agarró la mano y con disimulo la quitó echándole una rápida mirada a Alicent, la cual ya estaba viéndolos con aire severo por el comportamiento del masculino.

—Tres hijos están bien, ni pienses en visitar mi habitación.

—Sería un desperdicio cuando estás a unas copas de no recordar la noche, sabes que madre estaría complacida con otro nacimiento.

Haella realizó un sonido seco y lo pellizcó por debajo de la mesa, a lo que Aegon saltó gracias al dolor y por el momento desistió. Enseguida miró a Rhaenyra y ella brevemente enarcó una ceja ante la escena, apenada evitándola y preguntándose cuándo el evento terminaría. Aguantó y se enfocó en su hijo hasta que Viserys comenzó a sentirse mal, en silencio viendo como los guardias lo retiraban y sintiéndose aliviada de que todo estuviera llegando a fin.

—También deseo brindar —soltó Aemond poniéndose en pie ahora que el Rey no estaba.

—Hermano —suspiró por lo bajo arrugando el ceño en preocupación, aunque Aegon sonrió y agarró el vino a sabiendas de que el espectáculo estaba por comenzar.

Contuvo el aliento en cada palabra que el Targaryen soltó hasta que los cabellos se le erizaron cuando sutilmente llamó “bastardos” a los hijos de Rhaenyra. El primero en reaccionar fue Jacaerys y tal reacción solo logró que Aemond lo provocara más, por lo que en menos de un parpadeo una batalla comenzó.

—¡Hijo, atrás! —exclamó Haella agarrando al joven de los hombros y llevándolo contra una pared alejada—. ¡Aegon! —llamó indignada cuando este fue contra Lucerys al ver iba a entrometerse en la pelea.

Helaena, desorientada y asustada, fue con ella y ayudó a proteger al joven atestiguando como Rhaella retenía a su gemela de ir a defender a Jacaerys. La Reina no tardó en levantarse y regañarle mientras los guardias presentes iban a retener a los Velaryon, aunque lograron zafarse y amagaron a arremeter hasta que Daemon intervino. El salón cayó en silencio y el mayor, relajado y con aire de superioridad, lo enfrentó mostrando una ligera mueca de animo a que siguiera con esa actitud ante él.

—Suficiente, todos fuera —ordenó Rhaenyra a los jóvenes, quienes inspiraron profundo e hicieron caso tratando de calmarse.

Aemond perdió la sonrisa y sostuvo la mirada analizando sus posibilidades, la confianza lentamente descendiendo y prefiriendo pasar de él e irse.

—¿Están bien? —preguntó Alicent analizando a su nieto y dos hijas, el trío asintiendo—. Mejor vayan a los aposentos y traten de… superar este día.

Haella mordió el interior de la mejilla y contuvo el enojo al ver a Aegon, el cual pareció sentir la furia y prefirió retirarse luego de echarle un vistazo. En segundos lo siguió en compañía de Helaena y juntas fueron a dejar al joven en su habitación, donde un sirviente lo ayudaría con las ropas y prepararía el lugar para que tuviera un buen sueño.

—Descansa, hermana —habló la mayor dándole un pequeño abrazo.

—Nos vemos mañana —despidió, con ligera prisa desapareciendo hacia el sector donde vivía.

Inspiró profundo y los eventos del día pasaron como una novela que prefería olvidar, pero entonces recordó el momento compartido con Daemon y Rhaenyra. Inconscientemente puso una mano en el estómago por las repentinas cosquillas y negó por como tenerlos en mente cambiaba su humor en un segundo.

Al llegar cerró la puerta y miró la cama donde horas atrás compartió besos con quienes amaba, de pronto la propuesta de vivir con ellos golpeándola como un coletazo de dragón. Deseaba, sinceramente deseaba una vida de ensueño y romance, pero el miedo a las repercusiones la frenaban de siquiera considerar abandonar el castillo.

En la mañana fue difícil verlos partir y el vacío que la llenó le hizo querer nunca haberlos cruzado, porque ahora los añoraba muchísimo más. Tener que seguir la rutina fue difícil y solo pudo mantener buena cara ante sus hijos, pero interactuar con Aegon, Aemond, Alicent u Otto fue más difícil que antes. Los muros se sentían huecos y congelados hasta que notó que era un reflejo de ella y la gente que la rodeaba, el fuego no existía en aquel lugar y la pequeña llama que poseía se extinguía en cada día que pasaba.

—Madre —llamó el mayor de los niños entrando con cuidado a la habitación—. Mamá… ¿Estás bien? —insistió al ella seguir mirando por la ventana de manera ausente.

—Hijo —susurró saliendo del trance y acercándose, inmediatamente yendo a acariciarle el cabello y la mejilla.

—¿Te sientes mal? Apenas has salido a pasar tiempo con nosotros —frunció el ceño intentando que el labio inferior no temblara.

—Lo siento, mi amor —disculpó rápido entendiendo que ya no era capaz de esconder el sufrimiento—. He estado sintiéndome un poco rara, nada más.

—¿Has visto a los sanadores? —preguntó aún preocupado.

—No es algo que ellos puedan solucionar, pero haré lo mejor para volver a la normalidad —prometió, porque lo que menos quería era generarle ansiedad a los pequeños.

—¿Qué es lo que tienes?

Torciendo la boca y pensando como abordar el tema, lo invitó a sentarse en la punta de la cama con ella.

—La vida aquí… El castillo… No me hace muy feliz —confesó simple sin ahondar en los detalles—. Pienso que podríamos vivir mejor en Rocadragón, amaría que tú y tus hermanas tuvieran gente de su edad para jugar, aprender e interactuar.

—Pero… ¿Papá, la abuela y el resto? —inclinó la cabeza en confusión.

—Seríamos solo nosotros cuatro —sonrió con pena apretando los labios con fuerza—. Ellos no tienen intenciones de estar contentos o sanar; las reglas, el rencor y lo que los demás piensan es más importante que el bienestar general.

Él bajó la mirada al regazo y luego a otras partes de la habitación, claramente analizando y llegando a dudas y conclusiones.

—¿Qué sucede si no voy? ¿Te irás igual? —inquirió amagando a conectar miradas, pero no fue capaz por los nervios.

—Jamás te dejaría, no deseo que sufras o te falte a quien recurrir cuando las obligaciones sean demasiado para ti. Eres mi hijo, lo que más amo, no podría abandonarte.

Increíblemente aliviado, el joven la abrazó y permanecieron en silencio hasta que llamaron a la puerta. Ambos miraron y se pusieron de pie cuando oyeron la voz de Ser Criston, por lo que rápido permitió que entrara después de la Reina. La tensión en ambos fue lo primero que notó, especialmente la expresión estresada, ansiosa y nerviosa de la mujer mientras frenaba y suspiraba pesado.

—Con el mayor pesar vengo a informar que Viserys ha fallecido.

—¿Qué? —preguntó Haella, inmediatamente sintiendo una roca en el corazón.

—Sucedió en la madrugada, los sanadores no han podido hacer nada al respecto.

Los ojos picaron y soportó la angustia para consolar al menor, el cual de por sí estaba triste y aturdido por la conversación anterior.

—¿Cuándo será el entierro? —habló en tono contenido.

—Pronto lo anunciaremos, primero debemos organizar la ascensión de Aegon como Rey.

—¿Cómo? —frunció el ceño y apreció como los oídos empezaban a zumbar por la catarata de noticias.

—Era el deseo de tu padre, lo confesó hace pocos amaneceres —afirmó antes de acercarse y tomarlos de un hombro—. Lamento la pérdida, me encargaré de que todo esté bien.

—¿Has avisado a Rhaenyra y Daemon?

Esos nombres la tensaron y apretó los labios, un destello de culpa brillando en el marrón de los irises.

—Enviaré una carta una vez que todo esté asentado.

La declaración encendió la preocupación en Haella y evitó pronunciar palabra, así quedando nuevamente a solas con el niño.

—El Reino está por cambiar y será inestable… Ambos deben saber que tu abuelo ha fallecido —empezó a decir apretándolo más contra ella—. Hijo mío, ¿me acompañarás a Rocadragón?

—Si, mamá —confirmó al tiempo que escondía el rostro en su vestido, lágrimas mojando la tela.

—Gracias.

Desde esa mañana el plan de mudanza comenzó y ambos mantuvieron las apariencias, en secreto armando el viaje y lo poco que podían llevar considerando que volarían. Fue un proceso rápido considerando que la muerte de Viserys no se podía ocultar demasiado tiempo, así que dos dos días después, en plena noche, tomó a los niños.

—¿Qué haces? —preguntó el mayor mientras sostenía a una de las gemelas.

—Abro un pasadizo, el castillo esta repleto de ellos —murmuró mientras empujaba a un costado y movía la pesada pared—. Mira donde pisas, ten cuidado —indicó estirando los brazos a tomar a la niña mientras la otra colgaba a su espalda en un amarre.

Bajaron escalones y cruzaron pasillos hasta casi perderse, entre laberintos hallando la salida y abandonando la Fortaleza Roja para atravesar la ciudad tapados de pie a cabeza. La actividad nocturna deslumbró a los jóvenes, aunque las acciones moralmente cuestionables y gritos les pusieron los cabello de punta.

—¿Falta mucho? —preguntó el muchacho sintiendo los pies cansados, con dificultad cargando un par de mochilas.

—Un poco más, pronto estarás volando —explicó agitada cambiando de brazo a la menor.

Con sudor e incertidumbre mantuvo el optimismo incluso si dudaba de poder ejecutar la huida, con temor saludando al guardia nocturno e indicando que trajera a la bestias. Miró alrededor intentando dilucidar cuantos testigos existían, pero parecían ser los únicos entre las tenues antorchas del amplio lugar. El rugido de su dragón le erizó los cabellos e hizo que mirara por uno de los pasillos, donde una gran cabeza anaranjada se asomó de manera lenta y adormilada.

—Enseguida traigo al pequeño, Princesa —avisó una vez que el cuidador estuvo lo suficientemente cerca.

—Prepara las cadenas de vuelo asistido, daremos un paseo en conjunto —ordenó suave estirando la mano libre a acariciar las gruesas escamas.

Asintiendo y desapareciendo de nuevo, Haella indicó al primogénito que le ayudara a subir y atar a una de las gemelas y las pertenencias en la montura. Ajustaron los seguros y revisó que la menor a su espalda estuviera bien, al terminar colocándose los guantes de piel mientras el entrenador se acercaba con un energético y joven dragón. El hombre conectó a las dos criaturas con una gruesa cadena y en Alto Valyrio los llevó fuera del edificio, en el proceso la Targaryen dándole indicaciones al menor de cómo volar al ser el primer viaje largo que experimentaría.

La brisa nocturna golpeó su rostro e hizo que inspirara profundo, al cerrar los ojos obteniendo un momento de paz hasta que tomaron posición. Miró al guardia y él le devolvió el vistazo entre dudas, aunque realizó un gesto de cortesía y ocultó las sospechas en una cabeza gacha.

—Estoy listo —avisó el niño apretando las riendas y enderezando la espalda.

Haella observó el cielo y finalmente dio señal de vuelo, el dragón dando largos pasos antes de ganar altura. Mordió el interior de una mejilla y evitó girar a ver lo que abandonaba, lagrimas perdiéndose mientras las luces en Desembarco del Rey se volvían pequeñas. Las prendas se humedecieron al ingresar al techo de nubes y contuvieron el aliento hasta atravesar la sofocante oscuridad, enormes y brillantes estrellas recibiéndolos una vez libres. Estiraron el cuello y admiraron los astros ante la significativa diferencia, por un momento tentados a estirar las manos y comprobar si eran capaces de tocar tal belleza.

—Bonito, ¿verdad? —preguntó a las gemelas también mirar.

Respondieron positivamente y el viaje continuó en absoluta paz, el tumulto sucediendo en secreto dentro del corazón de la Targaryen ante el peligroso e incierto futuro que sus acciones generarían.

Con nariz, mejillas y dedos congelados, todos apreciaron los primeros rayos del sol y cerraron los ojos disfrutando del suave calor. La niebla en el horizonte de a poco se hizo visible y anunció la proximidad al destino, finalmente apreciando el castillo de Rocadragón.

—¿¡Dónde aterrizamos!? —preguntó el niño con nervios ante el nuevo desafío.

—Volemos alrededor un par de veces hasta que los guardias nos vean y den aviso de llegada, luego nos guiaré a un área abierta para descender con comodidad.

Haella los llevó a las torres de vigilancia y enseguida observó como dos arqueros corrían escaleras abajo. Complacida admiró la estructura y sorprendida jadeó cuando una serpentina sombra los cubrió, de pronto un rugido a su izquierda haciendo que encontrara a Syrax planeando.

—Dorado y rojo —murmuraron las gemelas.

Inmediatamente frunció el ceño y elevo el mentón para ver a Caraxes analizarlos, en el proceso realizando particulares sonidos de bienvenida.

—¿Cómo…? —empezó a preguntar al ciertamente atinar con los colores, la frase siendo recurrente desde la primera vez que la dijeron.

Un escalofrío la recorrió y consideró que sus hijas fueran soñadoras en vez de jinetes, una cuestión que en ese momento no podía analizar a pesar de que la descolocó: ¿desde cuándo sabían que terminarían en el otro lado de la familia?

En pocas ordenes empezó a bajar y con cuidado vigiló a los inexpertos, los cuales lograron tocar tierra y parecieron aliviados de finalmente dejar el cielo. La estabilidad la mareó y cerró los ojos notando, por primera vez, el cansancio y el dolor corporal que la torturaba. Con las articulaciones endurecidas, lentamente liberó los seguros de la montura hasta que el eco de su nombre cortó la calma. Adrenalina la llenó y buscó la fuente del llamado, el largo y rubio cabello de Rhaenyra sacudiéndose en el viento mientras se acercaba.

Sonriendo y sintiendo nada más que verdadera felicidad, se puso de pie y averiguó la manera de bajar a las niñas de manera segura hasta que Daemon surgió en el panorama. Él sonrió complacido y ella perdió el aliento, enseguida estirando los brazos y entregándole a una de las niñas antes de que le ayudara a bajar.

—Finalmente elegiste —comentó una vez que la tuvo en frente.

—Si… —dudó al recordar las razones que finalmente la hicieron escapar.

—¿Qué sucedió? —tensó el ceño y analizó las pequeñas expresiones.

—Haella —nombró Rhaenyra antes de encerrarla en un abrazo, sobre el hombro viendo a la pequeña que llevaba colgada.

Cerró los ojos ante el reconfortante contacto y con fuerza contuvo las lagrimas, la emoción mezclándose en ansiosa tristeza por las noticias que entregaría.

—Lo lamento —habló ahogada escondiendo el rostro.

Rhaenyra la estrechó con más fuerza antes de mirar preocupada a su esposo, el cual se acercó intentando consolarla.

—Sea lo que sea, lo superaremos juntos —prometió Daemon acomodándole el cabello en un gesto cariñoso.

Abrumada asintió y entre lagrimas apreció la cercanía, aquellos cuerpos enseguida enseñando que ellos eran su verdadero hogar.

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brokenmenswhore · 5 months ago

Note

not sure if you take fic requests BUT:

aegon getting woken up with head 🙏

i think this man would only accept head as his alarm 😭

this man would wake up, see you’re still asleep, and then lay there for HOURS with his eyes closed waiting for you to wake up so you can see his eyes closed and give him head to wake him

morning ritual | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), oral (male receiving)

────── ☾ ──────

There was only one way Aegon accepted waking up.

The first time you tried it, you were nervous about overstepping. Your eyes fluttered open, a small stream of sunlight illuminating the bed, and better yet, Aegon. He looked ethereal when he was asleep, hair tousled, the top of his chest visible over the sheets.

You rolled over onto your stomach, your eyes tracing every contortion of his features: his hair, his eyes, his lips, his throat, his chest- the sheet was blocking everything else. So as not to wake him, you slowly moved the sheets lower and lower, admiring the flesh of his stomach before finally exposing him to the morning light.

Aegon never slept with any clothes on. After ruthlessly pounding into you every night, he would usually roll over and pass out, never caring about re-covering himself. He was comfortable with you, and he saw no point in covering up.

Lucky for you, it made the idea that popped into your head much easier to make a reality.

You slowly shifted down the bed, careful not to prematurely wake him, curling your body up onto your knees as you moved between his legs, leveling your head with his cock.

You took the muscle in one hand, holding it firm against your tongue as you licked a strip from the base of his cock to the tip, finally sinking your mouth onto as much as you could handle. He was big, but you were getting better and better at deepthroating him.

You began to move your head up and down, tasting every inch of him as you moved your hair to one side of your head, allowing you to continue unobstructed.

Aegon stirred lightly, the feeling slowly hitting him as he tossed and turned ever so slightly. You looked up at him, your need to make him feel good growing stronger and stronger as you watched him in his sleep, reacting genuinely to the feeling of your mouth around him.

You moved your hand up to cup his balls, squeezing gently to help coax him out of sleep.

Aegon whimpered, a feeling of arousal creeping between your legs at the sound. His breathing began to quicken a bit, his mouth falling open to allow for his sighs and whines.

You continued to bob your head, running your tongue over his tip to add to his pleasure as he finally blinked his eyes open, slowly looking down and meeting your gaze, finally aware of exactly what was happening. Once he saw you, he threw his head back, relaxing against the sheets as his hands found their way to the back of your head.

He didn’t have the energy to push your head down or to fuck up into your mouth, having just woken up, so he simply kept his hands on your hair to make it known he didn’t want you to stop as he let you continue to suck him on your own.

In his awakeness, his whining grew louder, not quite a moan but light little whimpers of your name or a string of curses anytime you ran your tongue over the slit at his tip or squeezed his balls particularly tightly.

Despite his closed eyes, you kept your gaze focused on him, watching him come undone from what you were doing to him. You loved to see your effect on him; he had been with countless women before, but he was never truly in love with one. Sex with you was different; you had more control over him, you truly cared enough to learn exactly what he liked and how he liked it. You knew how to make him come undone. He adored you more than anyone in his life, and he loved the feeling of your lips wrapped around him, drawing him closer and closer to his high the way no one else truly could.

Usually he would have to hold a woman’s head down and fuck their mouth, using them as a method to get himself off, but with you, he didn’t have to do a thing. He still sometimes would, of course, but simply knowing you were between his legs, eyes looking up at him, consumed in him, was enough.

His breathing quickened, his high approaching closer and closer. You picked up the pace, a large sigh leaving Aegon’s lips as he started to slowly lift his hips, using all his energy to help you make him come.

His clock twitched as his orgasm approached, a whimper of your name leaving his lips as his seed shot to the back of your throat, the feeling almost making you gag. The salty liquid spilled out, allowing you to suck his cock clean of it all, swallowing the load and sticking your tongue out to him to show you had taken it all, something he always asked you to do.

Aegon turned his head to look down at you, wiping the sweat-slicked hair from your forehead and tucking it behind your ear as he saw your tongue, cleaned of any orgasm remnants.

“Good job, angel,” he breathed, “what did I do to deserve such a wonderful wake-up call?”

Ever since then, Aegon has refused to get out of bed without spilling his seed down your throat.

You woke up first, like you had (at least appeared to) most mornings, to find him asleep, naked, and waiting. He often tried to fall asleep on his back with his legs open, a sure sign of eagerness for his usual good morning.

You rolled over, taking the familiar place between his thighs, your mouth kissing his tip before settling down on his length. Aegon immediately groaned, almost as if the second your lips touched him, his body ignited and he woke himself up enthusiastically.

“Shit,” he sighed, forcing his eyes open to watch you this time, your gaze meeting his and only making him crazy.

“I-I think I’ve started dreaming ab-bout this,” Aegon breathed, “almost makes me w-anna go to s-sleep.”

You lifted off of him for a moment, stroking him gently with your hand. “Anything for you, my king. I’m glad you like our morning ritual.”

“Like it?” he choked out, “I love it.”

You smiled in response, lowering your mouth down again, causing him to throw his head backwards and arch his back slightly, forcing his cock deeper into your mouth. The feeling of his tip hitting the back of your throat made him feral, and he began to fuck your mouth.

Aegon was usually not very rough during your mornings; he did not have energy in the morning and was happy to feel the slow, sensual intimacy of your gesture. However, he went to sleep last night only so that he could awaken to your mouth on him, and his body was ready the second his head hit the pillow. The mornings were becoming one of the best parts of his days.

Aegon fisted his hands through your hair, holding you in place as he continued to lift his hips, focusing on ensuring that his cock hit your throat with every single thrust.

You started to gag, an involuntary noise leaving your mouth with each hit, only egging him on more and more. He loved to hear you; it only added to his arousal when he knew the noises you made were all for him, a pure reaction from your body to his.

His roughness was unusual for the mornings, and it drove you crazy. You couldn’t help yourself, you moved a hand between your legs and began to touch yourself, the feeling of Aegon fucking your throat combined with his pretty moans was too much for you to simply sit there and do nothing.

Aegon noticed your actions, a “fuck,” “you’re so fucking perfect, shit,” and “so fucking hot,” leaving his lips as he viciously thrusted up into your mouth, your eyes fighting to stay open and trained on him.

“I’m gonna- fuck,” he moaned, his back arching again as he came. You continued sucking, ensuring you pulled every last drop before swallowing and presenting him with your tongue.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered.

“Good morning to you, too,” you smiled.

Aegon gestured for you to hug him, your body pressed against his as your cheek rested on his chest. He kissed your temple, looking toward the window to see how much sunlight was out. “Can we just stay in bed forever?”

#aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen fanfic #aegon targaryen smut #aegon targaryen one shot #aegon targaryen drabble #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen imagines #aegon x reader #hotd aegon #house of the dragon #asks

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spider-stark · 7 months ago

Text

SPARRING PARTNER

Aegon II Targaryen x Cousin!Reader

Summary - You and Aegon have hardly spoken since sharing a particularly sensual moment a month ago. Now he thinks he stands a chance at beating you in a sparring match.

Warnings - targcest (lightly implied that reader is Daemon's daughter), vague hints regarding smut, blood, horny/stupid aegon & reader, ! MINORS DNI !

Word Count - 2.5k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Care for a partner?”

Aegon’s gruff voice had come as a surprise, knocking you from a state of concentration as you swung for one of the training dummies.

Your body jolts. You fumble, then miss your mark by a fraction of an inch. The tip of your blade grazes against the dummies wooden neck, rather than slicing its head clean off.

Gritting your teeth, blood thrums in your ears as you whirl around to face your cousin. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s dangerous to sneak up on an armed woman?”

He’s standing within an arm’s length of you—much too close, considering you had been swinging a sword around. One wrong move, and it could’ve been his head that you had taken off.

In spite of this, Aegon appears utterly at ease. Standing with his hands stuffed in his pockets, he shrugs at you, a lopsided smirk pulling at his lips. “I prefer for my women to be dangerous.”

“I’m the furthest thing from one of your women.”

“Really?” He cocks a brow, that stupid smirk growing wider. “Must I jog your memory, then? Remind you of Aemond’s name-day celebrations when-”

You cut him off with a narrow-eyed glare, raising your blade in a feigned-threat. The tip is poised at his navel when you hiss, “Enough.”

Obedient as always, Aegon’s mouth snaps shut at your command. His mouth remains curved, though, silently taunting you. Memories from last month flash through your mind—the two of you, drunk and stumbling away from the Banquet Hall, hands roaming freely along each other's bodies.

A mistake.

That’s all it was: an ignorant, drunken, mistake.

Still, you feel your cheeks heating at the thought of that night. You huff, sliding your sword back into the leather-sheath strapped around your hips. “I’m not one of your women,” you huff, though you’re not so sure the reminder is meant for him. “You have a type, Aegon—and that type consists wholly of whores.”

You had nothing against the whores, of course. Many of the ladies working on the Street of Silk were fine women—if anything, you felt bad that they had to deal with him.

At least they get paid for it, though. You deal with his flirtations free of charge.

“Well,” Aegon drones, his lilac eyes dipping further south. Sweat soaks through your tunic, making it cling to your skin in a way that accentuates the curve of your waist. “Not wholly of whores.”

Your expression falls flat. “How flattering.”

With that, you spin on your heel, fully intending on continuing your training on the other side of the yard. You make it less than a full step before his fingers snag on your wrist, whirling you back around.

Your free hand finds the hilt of your sword, a warning flashing in your eyes. Worry flashes across his face, though it’s mostly shrouded by arrogance.

“You never answered my question,” his voice carries a subtle wobble, hardly noticeable. You catch it, though, unable to suppress a self-satisfied grin. “Would you like a partner?”

“A sparring partner?”

The question is phrased like an insult—and, maybe, you had meant it that way. Your focus hones in on the hand still wrapped around your wrist. His smooth, uncalloused, princelike hands. When was the last time he had even held a sword?

A puzzled frown accentuates the pout of his bottom lip. When he speaks, his voice is so unusually tentative that his response sounds more like a question than an answer. “Yes?”

You try holding in a laugh—and fail miserably. Aegon’s confusion gives way to annoyance, embarrassment tinging his pale cheeks red.

“What’s so funny?”

Several biting remarks instantly come to mind, each a bit more insulting than the last. You hold your tongue. Surely he doesn’t actually believe himself capable of sparring with you, right? When it comes to swordfighting, you’re leagues above him. It wouldn’t even be close to a fair match.

“Nothing,” you respond quickly, tight-lipped as you hold back another laugh. “But you know what? Sure—I could use some decent competition.”

Aegon’s chest puffs slightly, confidence soaring.

You nip that in the bud, “Mind fetching your brother for me?”

He deflates at the mention of his brother, shoulders slumping forward as he scoffs. “You truly believe Aemond to be better than me?��

“Without question.”

Aemond was a bit of a twat—but he was undeniably skilled at swordplay.

“Do you forget that Aemond and I were trained by the same knight?” Aegon asks, brows raised. “I’m just as skilled with a blade as my brother. If not more.”

Another laughable statement that has you biting your cheek, trying not to insult him any more than you already had.

It was true that, same as Aemond, Aegon had been trained by Ser Criston, a knight of the Kingsguard, when he was a boy. But if the softness of his palms was any indicator, then he hadn’t done a good job at keeping up with that training.

“Doubtful.” Sighing, you then gesture to his clothes, “Besides, you’re not even dressed for a fight, Aegon. You can’t move in that!”

Glancing down at himself, he observes his tight-fitted emerald tunic, slim trousers, and shiny black boots. Fashionable—but terrible for a fight.

“I assure you that I can move just fine,” he huffs, weakly defending himself. Bringing a hand to his hip, he slides a dagger from a small black sheath. “I’ll prove it!”

You stare at the weapon, unblinking. Incredulity lines each syllable as you ask, “You plan to fight me with that?”

It was, admittedly, a very pretty dagger.

No expense had been spared in its creation. The pommel was forged of shimmering gold, rounded and delicately crafted to emulate the appearance of glistening dragon scales. Dark shagreen wrapped the hilt, and the blade itself was made of steel so dark it appeared onyx, its tip curved ever-so-slightly, making it ideal for carving through flesh.

Pretty, but still just a dagger. A weapon designed for close-range attacks would do him little good against a sword.

“It’s a weapon, is it not?” If Aegon’s at all embarrassed by your teasing, he doesn’t show it. His jaw flexes, lilac eyes boring into you. “Fight me.”

“This is foolish-” you start.

“Fight me,” Aegon growls, cutting you off. He takes a step closer. Your spine turns to a steel rod, chin held high as his stare narrows on you. “Unless you’re too afraid to lose,” he purrs.

Your blood simmers.

He’s goading you. You know that—and take the bait anyway.

“Fine,” you answer bluntly.

Rolling your shoulders, you take your stance a few paces back from him. Feet apart and hands raised defensively, you don’t even bother with drawing your weapon—making his brow raise.

“What about your sword?” He asks, eyeing the sheath at your waist.

“Don’t need it.”

Cocky—but true, nonetheless. If you were to spar with a weapon, then you would probably have him disarmed in seconds. Doing it this way, unarmed, you at least stand a chance of getting a good workout before your inevitable victory.

“Let’s go.” Curling your fingers, you beckon him closer, a taunt in your voice, “Give it your best shot, Aeg.”

A shiver crawls up his spine, thinking back to Aemond’s name-day, the last time you had called him that. The two of you had been so impatient that you hadn’t made it further than an empty broom closet; his teeth grazing against your neck, and his name oozing from your tongue like honey.

His hand tightens around the hilt, remembering how it felt to be gripping your bare waist, instead. Remembering, too, how it felt as his touch drifted lower and lower, his fingers hooking along the waistband of your smallclothes just as a maid pushed the door open and started screaming.

You hadn’t called him Aeg since that night—since you rushed to fix your gown and darted out the door, leaving him to deal with the maid. To hear it again now—after a month of dreaming of it—was pure bliss, as well as a confirmation that, perhaps, you don’t regret that night as much as you wish you did.

Voice low, he asks, “Ready?”

You almost smile. Aegon had been trained by the Kingsguard, taught to spar with honor, to wait until your opponent was ready to strike.

But you were trained by the Rogue Prince. Taught to say fuck honor—strike first, ask questions never.

A split second and you’re lunging forwards, making a move for his dominant side.

Aegon’s eyes go wide—then his guard snaps up, forcing him to focus.

Caught off guard, his movements are desperate and sloppy as he stumbles backwards, evading your strike.

Your fingertips brush the sleeve of his tunic. If he’d moved a second later, you would have caught him by the wrist. A second later, and you would have already won.

“Sneaky,” he chastises.

You open your mouth to respond, only for the words to be cut off by a yelp. He takes you by surprise, barreling straight for you. Steel glimmers as the onyx blade sweeps towards you, slicing through the air much faster than you would’ve thought.

There’s no time to dodge the strike—not without the risk of tripping over your own feet. You lift your forearm, aiming to block rather than dodge. Aegon notices this—a heartbeat too late—and purposefully slows his own blow.

You hiss as cold steel grazes against your skin. Crimson trickles towards your elbow, minuscule compared to what it could have been. If Aegon hadn’t hindered his own strike, the blade could have very well cut-through to pure-ivory bone.

Anger sparks in his eyes. “You could’ve dodged that,” he pants.

Taking several small steps backwards, you grin at him through gritted teeth. “And you could’ve struck harder.”

Aegon’s stare narrows and, instantly, that spark flares to an all-consuming wildfire. Lilac flames lick at his irises, the heat of them nipping at your skin, sweat beading along your brow.

He moves first.

Slicing from the left, you duck to the right. His counter is swift, aiming for your bicep. But he’s too hesitant—giving you just enough time to twist your body out of the way.

His movements are as fast and relentless as they are unsustainable. Aegon’s chest heaves, evidence of his fraying endurance. You bide your time, weaving and dodging his blade's curved tip. Letting him push you back and back and back, focusing on evading rather than striking.

Swinging low, his blade cuts through the front of your tunic, hardly a fucking centimeter from tearing into your sternum. A bit panicked, you snap your arm up. It rams into the side of his dominant wrist, striking a particularly sensitive nerve.

He hisses. Takes a step back to regroup.

Never loses his grip, though, knuckles turning white around the hilt.

“Impressive,” you bite out, feeling your own temper flare.

Taking advantage of the small window, you move towards him. Swept towards his ankle with your leg, hoping to knock him off balance but—

—He predicts your movement, jumping back only to immediately press forward again. Every movement is aggressive; not calculated or precise, but still swift and near inescapable.

You block and block, stumbling back and back. Your footwork turns sloppy, your focus hazy. Then, suddenly, your back is slamming into rough stone. Blade poised at your chest, Aegon grins even as he fights to catch his breath.

You curse at yourself, realization settling into your bones.

You counted on him being a poor swordsman—on being out of practice and out of shape. Waiting for his stamina to deplete, knowing that when it did, you could easily overpower him.

You hadn’t considered that maybe he’d had a strategy of his own, though.

Aegon had tricked you. Overexerted himself on purpose. Moved faster and faster, ensuring that you were focusing on him and not your surroundings, allowing him to back you into a godsdamned corner.

Your temper flares. Instincts kick in.

Your hand thrusts upwards, aiming for the chain dangling around his neck. His freehand shoots up at the same time, catching your fingers just as they wrap around the thick metal. He doesn’t move your hand away, letting the warmth of your touch linger against the column of his throat.

You had planned to choke him, and Aegon knows this. And yet neither fear nor worry clouds his gaze. His lilac eyes remain bright, glittering with intrigue, of all things.

A low chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, which is only mere inches from your own. “If you were this desperate to touch me,” Aegon purrs, the sweetness of arbor red permeating your senses as his breath fans across your cheek, “then you should’ve just asked.”

“You’re insufferable,” you grind out.

Aegon leans closer, the tip of his nose bumping against yours as your foreheads touch. Your heartbeat stutters, then quickens. He loosens his grip on your fingers, not caring that you could easily attack him again. As he brushes a strand of sweat-soaked hair behind your ear, you’re fairly certain that, at this moment, Aegon has no cares at all.

“You were wrong,” he whispers.

The world around you begins to fade, your vision hollowing until all that remains is him. You just stare at him—wide-eyed and confused, utterly ensnared.

“Earlier,” Aegon continues. “You said that you were the furthest thing from my type of woman. But you were wrong–” his touch drifts from your hairline, traveling along your jaw in a soft caress, “–you’re the only type of woman that I want.”

A serrated breath escape escapes you as Aegon pushes himself against you, further caging you against the stone. Close enough that, with each breath, his plush lips brush against yours. Close enough that you can feel his hardening length buried against your thigh.

“Every night,” his voice drops to a whimper now. “I’ve thought of you every night since then. Dreamed of you, even.”

You bite your tongue, scared that if you don’t, you might say something stupid—might tell him that you dreamt of him, too. Of the warmth of his touch, fingertips burning against your skin as they dipped lower lower lower.

Weakness wins out, a strangled moan slipping from parted lips, “Aeg-”

“Have you thought of me?” Aegon asks, brows furrowing into an unbearably innocent expression. You squirm against him, your back arching off the stone, hips desperately searching for friction. He clicks his tongue. “Words, dove. Use them.”

Gods—how you hate yourself for this. For how easy it is for him to toy with you. For how much you enjoy it.

You rasp, “Yes-”

In response, a satisfied hum. “Good.”

For a moment, somehow both brief and eternal, you wait for him to close that gap between you. Wait to feel his lips crash against yours, to taste the sweetness of his tongue. To have his touch once again strike a match within your soul, leaving you to burn in the ecstasy of his embrace.

And then, suddenly, you feel it—

—the tip of his fucking dagger pressed against the underside of your jaw, a single bead of warmth trickling down the column of your throat.

Lip curling into a snarl, you glare at Aegon.

He looks all too pleased with himself, smirking as he asks, “Now am I better than Aemond?”

You don’t answer him—not with words, at least. But he can see the response simmering in your eyes; a certainty that excited him far more than it scared him.

You were going to kill him.

a/n - honestly just wanted to practice writing a short little fight scene with this! originally this was going to be about aemond, but my love for aegon won out as it always does.

as always, like's comments and reblogs are appreciated! and if any of you want to talk about all things aegon or hotd/asoiaf, my asks/dms are open (please none of my irl friends like hotd i'm begging)

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gtgbabie0 · 6 months ago

Note

helloo could i request a cregan stark x reader? Where the reader has the ability to see the future or possible outcomes? I hope it isnt to bad of a idea😅 Thank you so much 🫶🏻

-Cregan Stark x Dreamer!Reader

{Your dreams are often plagued by nightmares of events that are yet to unfold, Cregan is always there to hold you}

Love this! Thank you for requesting, enjoy lovelies💕

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺

It was not lost on Cregan Stark that Rhaenyra’s daughter was… unique to say the least. It was known way before your engagement was planned, a quiet ceremony hidden away in the woods near Winterfell, it seems love still prevails even through war.

Although this never deterred Cregan, he was utterly head over heels for you yet confused at the same time whenever you would whisper cryptic insanities into the cold night air with wide fearful eyes full of knowledge about events that loom over the horizon like dark storm clouds.

He would spend hours brushing your white hair, speaking gentle, loving words against your shoulder when your mind seemed to have wandered too far from your grasp.

He was just as lost as you were when it came to figuring out what exactly it all meant and the Maesters were no help, especially on nights like this when you were awoken by such horrific sights that infest your mind.

“Aliments of the mind are far more trickier than those of the body, my Lord.” Maester Owryn says, still adamant about just giving you tea to help you sleep.

His words only serve to annoy an already exhausted Cregan, he can’t count how many times he has been told the same thing with a look of pity. It killed him that he could not provide you with more comfort, he cannot help but feel as if he has failed you.

“Do you see her, do you?— it’ll take more than damn tea to calm her from this.” Cregan scolds, looking down at the Maester with dark narrowed eyes. He glances back over to where you are curled up on a chair, your fingers buried within your messy locks, clutching harshly as you mutter the same words over and over again.

The Maester shuffles, fiddling with the small piece of parchment, his brows pulled together in confusion. “Might I suggest milk of the poppy?” He whispers, clearly unnerved by the glare that Cregan was scrutinising him under.

“No, bring her the tea.” The Lord settles, his tone rough with irritation. He did not want to subject you to the horrible drowsiness that the sweet milk brings, numbing your mind was not the answer.

With the Maester gone Cregan tries once more to approach you, drawing closer to you like he would with a wounded animal, he wraps his fingers around your wrists in an attempt to stop you from pulling at your hair, his touch is gentle despite the callouses on his palms.

“Not so hard my love… you’ll hurt yourself.” He whispers, eyes searching your face desperately for any signs of the woman you were before you woke up from this nightmare.

Although he finds nothing of the sort, you are all glossy-eyed and chapped lips, blankly staring at the floor like you were miles away.

A moment of silence settles around the room, the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft crackle of firewood is the only thing breaking through it. It takes a few moments and soft words of encouragement before you allow him to lower your hands down to your lap, your fingers still clutched tightly into fists.

“Dragon breath… burning flesh.” You whisper fearfully, a gasp escaping past your red-bitten lips. The same words you’ve been muttering all night, it unsettles him, calling to something deep within him.

Cregan hums, brushing your messy hair behind your ears. “I know my love.” He sighs, grazing the rough pads of his thumbs across your knuckles.

“Come back to me y/n, come on…” he whispers into the backs of your hands, closing his eyes as you continue to whisper the words madly.

The mumblings stop, your breathing coming back down into a steady rhythm as you begin to unclench your fists slowly. Relief hits Cregan like a gust of wind, his expression softening when your gaze meets with his own.

“… burning… bedevilled crown.” You try to explain to him all too quickly, stuttering over your words in a panic-stricken manner. Your hands trembling against his own rough ones.

“Slowly now, breathe for me first, my love.” He whispers, reaching over to cup your jaw to keep you grounded on the here and now, his thumb caressing your cheek.

Your senses soon come back to you making you aware of your surroundings, the softness of your nightgown and the warmth of your husband’s hand against the side of your face.

The Maester walks in with a small cup of soothing tea, placing the ceramic down on the dark oak table before taking his leave with a curt nod. The herbal aroma brings you into the present moment, keeping your mind occupied.

You watch with tired eyes as he gives you the cup, minding the way your hands still shake ever so slightly. He guides you to take small sips, smiling gently in encouragement.

“There were two, but I could not see— the smoke and flames— screams.” The words are a struggle to get out and it pains him to see you like this, the pain and fear in your eyes.

Your words are too vague to try and make any sense of them, after all, it was a war between Targaryens, and the involvement of dragons and their formidable flames was inevitable.

“I want to stop it… to prevent the pain but I do not know how.” You whisper, voice strained with unshed tears.

“That may be beyond you. I won’t have you shouldering blame for anything that transpires.” He says, his tone full of love despite the roughness of it.

You nod softly, looking down at him from where he is kneeling in front of you. The soft glow of the fireplace flickers against his features, highlighting the exhaustion that hangs below his eyes.

“You can go back to sleep…” you suggest softly, clearly feeling too shaken up to go back to bed.

At your words he immediately shakes his head, taking your hands to pepper gentle kisses along your knuckles, his beard tickling your soft skin. “Not until you’re okay…”

You know there is no point in arguing the point, he is as stubborn as a mule. Instead, you shuffle over, giving him room to sit down next to you. The warmth between you, as he pulls you onto his lap, calms the restlessness that has built up within your chest, allowing you a moment of respite.

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delulujuls · 6 months ago

Text

so cold | house of the dragon

hi, if you haven't watched s02e02 of hotd yet and you don't want spoilers, then please don't scroll below. but feel free to hit a heart button if you wanna came back later and check on this one.

all rights to ideas used here belongs to george r.r. martin, hbo and warner bros, i just added a bit to them from myself. title is inspired by so cold by ben coaks. also, in this one reader is viserys' fifth child, older than helaena but younger than aemond, aegon and rhaenyra.

summary: targaryens started falling into madness forgetting that they are family and a strong family needs love, not war

warnings: death of a child, murder, explaining of a killing

pairing: sister!reader x rhaenyra targaryen x aegon targaryen (ft. daemon the troublemaker)

Young mother cradled child in her arms, rocking her gently to sleep. She lovingly pressed her daughter to her chest, softly humming under her breath. The girl slept, nestled against her mother, who couldn't bear to let her go. She feared that if her daughter left her embrace, something terrible might happen to her.

Someone will hurt her like they hurt her beloved boy.

"Your grace, you should rest," one of the maids whispered, preparing the queen's chamber for the night.

At one point, the young woman didn't hear her words, staring into the candle flame and lightly rocking her daughter in her arms. After a moment, she looked up at the servant and, realizing she had momentarily lost touch with reality, only sniffed and nodded. She carefully laid the girl in bed, covering her with a blanket. She gently sat next to her, hastily wiping herself her tear-streaked cheeks. Young queen placed a hand on her daughter's head, tenderly stroking it.

"Your grace," the maid began again, trying to encourage her to rest, but the she didn't let her finish "Stay with her until I return, alright?"

She asked, but it sounded more like a command. Y/N lifted her gaze to the maid, who nodded quickly. The young queen glanced at her daughter one last time, leaning down to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. She adjusted the blanket on her one last time and then stood up. The maid immediately took her place. She didn't look at the sleeping girl, but at her mother, who quickly put on a cloak and hood over her nightgown.

"Where are you going, my lady?" the maid asked softly, nervously clutching her apron. She knew there were two guards outside the queen's chamber, and no other entrance to it. Yet, she was terrified of the responsibility the woman was placing on her, leaving her child in her care, after everything that happened not so long ago.

"I need some fresh air," she replied, wiping her wet cheeks again. Despite her whisper, her voice was firm. "I'll be back shortly. You're safe here."

The maid nodded and watched the young queen leave. She disappeared behind heavy doors guarded by two knights of the Royal Guard, who straightened up as soon as they saw her.

"Your grace," one greeted her, about to ask where she was going, noticing her attire suggested an outing. However, she cut him off. "I need some fresh air before sleep. Until I return, there's a maid inside with Jaehaera. Let no one inside, and if anyone asks, I'm asleep."

She announced, scanning their faces to ensure they understood her words. The knights nodded and bowed, because who were they to deny the queen leaving the castle, especially in her current state? Each of the three people Y/N informed of her departure assumed the young queen would take a short stroll around the castle or stop in one of the gardens to clean her mind before going to bed. However, Y/N was heading to the Dragonpit, not even thinking about going to sleep any time soon.

When she arrived, the dragons immediately sensed her presence. Feeling her sadness and grief, they murmured softly, with their gaze following her steps toward Vermithor. The old dragon knew where he would have to fly before she even appeared inside. He would fly to Dragonstone.

The cold, night wind swept tears from the young queen's cheeks as she sat on the back of the Bronze Fury. She realized she didn't actually know what to say when she will arrive to the castle. Would the guards even let her in? Would Rhaenyra want to talk? Maybe Daemon was nearby on Caraxes, wanting to attack her?

However, no one attacked her from the air, and when she landed, no one awaited her with an army. As she reached the castle gates, she removed her hood, letting her white hair fell over her shoulders.

"Your grace," the guards bowed, but they would have lied if they claimed her appearance didn't shock them.

"I want to talk to Rhaenyra," she announced, looking at their faces. Seeing her swollen eyes and wet cheeks, they didn't even dare ask if she was armed. Before them was a grieving mother who didn't want war. She wanted explanations.

When Rhaenyra was awakened and informed of her sister's visit, she quickly went to the main hall, barefoot and in her nightgown. She felt like she was still dreaming and her mind was playing tricks on her, but when she saw her sister accompanied by two guards, she realized the reality. Sisters looked at each other in silence, unsure of what to say and how to begin. Rhaenyra felt a lump in her throat when she saw in what state Y/N was. She felt like she was looking at her reflection from a few weeks ago when she herself mourned her son's death. Y/N's eyes welled with tears again. She hadn't seen Rhaenyra for so long.

"Nyra-," she began, but her voice broke. The older woman started towards her, but a guard stopped her with a hand gesture.

"Your grace, we don't know-," "She's my sister," she said firmly, glaring at him. She passed the young knight and approached the girl, whom she immediately hugged. As soon as she closed her in her arms, Y/N began to sob. Rhaenyra held her tightly, feeling her own tears burning beneath her eyelids.

"They killed my boy," she cried, clenching her fists on Rhaenyra's robe. "They killed my angel, who did nothing wrong. Why? Why did they kill one of the two most innocent people in this cursed castle?"

Rhaenyra had no answer to any of her questions. Even if she wanted to say something, she couldn't, being completely out of words. She hugged her sister, who trembled in her arms. Despite her heavy cloak and cape, she felt her body shaking.

Still embracing young queen, Rhaenyra led her to one of the couches where they sat together. She held her hands tightly as she tried to sort out what she wanted to say. Y/N had no idea what to say either, she just wanted to rid herself of all the pain no one in the castle cared about. No one wanted to listen to her, no one even wanted to hug and comfort her; everyone needed to be heard and comforted as well. Of all the people, Y/N could only come to Rhaenyra, who was now an enemy to all of King's Landing. However, for the young queen, she was not an enemy but a sister and a mother who had recently mourned the death of her child, too. No one could understand her better.

"They cut off his little head as if he were a worthless pig," she said bitterly, staring into the flame dancing in the fireplace. Rhaenyra saw that Y/N still had her dead son's body before her eyes, and she knew that the sight would stay with her for a long time. She would give anything to relieve her pain.

"I've never seen such a small coffin. And it was still too big for him," Rhaenyra quickly wiped her wet cheeks herself, but it didn't gave much help.

"Instead of treating his funeral properly and with respect," Y/N began, but her voice broke. "Otto ordered a procession. They dragged him through the entire city along paths he was not even able to walk in his lifetime."

Despite the sadness, grief, and sympathy, Rhaenyra began to feel anger. The Hightowers turned the death of a child into a spectacle to portray them as victims and her as a murderer. It wasn't even about deciding to condemn her even more; it was the fact that they used the tragic death of an innocent child for it.

"He said Alicent and I should take part in the procession so that people would sympathize more. She…she-," young queen began to sob, to which Rhaenyra hugged her tightly. "When I said I didn't want to, she declared it was my duty. It wasn't my duty, was it?"

"Of course not," she answered, stroking her head. Rhaenyra's tears soaked her sister's hair as she hugged her. "You didn't deserve this, Y/N. I'm so sorry."

The young queen cried in her arms, and Rhaenyra continued to hug her tightly. All she could do at the moment was provide her with a little comfort, which she was so eager for. Y/N herself had not been a child so long ago and now she had to deal with such suffering.

After a while, when the wave of despair passed, Y/N moved away from her sister and looked at her face, desperately seeking explanations.

"What actually happened, Nyra?"

"There was a mistake," a voice came from the corner before Rhaenyra was even able to open her mouth to speak. When Daemon came out of the shadows, Rhaenyra hugged her sister tighter and gave him a fierce look.

"You have no right to be here," she said sharply, but her voice trembled on the last spoken word.

"I have the right to explanations," he replied calmly, looking at her and then at his niece. The young queen looked at him in silence, finally wanting to know the truth. The pain could be devastating, but she knew that moving forward would require it.

"Why-," she began, biting her lip painfully. She didn't want to cry in front of him. "Why did they kill my little boy?"

"Aemond was supposed to die," he said, approaching. "Son for son."

Y/N shook her head in disbelief, snuggling into her sister. She couldn't look at her uncle.

"They didn't find Aemond, but they found you and your children-" "That's enough," Rhaenyra interrupted sharply. "Leave, now."

However, Daemon approached even closer, still looking at his niece. He knelt in front of her.

"There are no words to describe how sorry I am," he said quietly but firmly. "I'm so sorry Y/N, that you got caught up in this conflict. You and your children shouldn't be involved at all."

The young queen sniffled and looked at him tearfully. She felt a cold hand tighten around her throat, struggling to breathe because of what she heard.

"I'm sorry, Y/N," he repeated, this time looking her in the eye.

"How many more family members will I have to mourn for this madness to end?"

Rhaenyra kissed her temple and hugged her tightly. The three of them remained silent for an indefinite time. At one point, Y/N stood up, breaking free from her sister's embrace. She wiped her wet cheeks and took a deep breath.

"Aegon is angry and wants war," she began, looking around them. "But more than anger, it's grief that consumes him. He lost a child."

"We don't want war either," Rhaenyra assured, holding her hand. "The last thing I want is more death."

"I'll try to talk to him and appeal to his reason," she said, squeezing her sister's hand one last time. "I don't want any more death, too. This has to end."

She was about to leave, but Rhaenyra stood up and hugged her tightly one last time.

"I love you, bird," she whispered, holding her tightly. "I love you and I'm so sorry for all of this."

"I'm not your enemy," Y/N said softly, closing her eyes. "I'm your sister. And I too love you."

After a difficult farewell, the young queen returned to the castle. As she walked through the empty, silent corridors, she tried to be quieter than a mouse. However, as she passed Aegon's chambers, she heard sobbing. Her brother must have sent the guards away because there was no one at the entrance. The girl fought herself for a moment, but after a while she quietly entered the room. Aegon sat by the fireplace, leaning his elbows on his knees. He nervously rubbed his hands and his hair covered his face, but she could hear him crying.

Y/N still had her hand on the doorknob, unsure what to do or say. Since the news of their son's death, they has not spoken a word with each other.

"Aegon..." she began uncertainly, but he didn't react to her words at all. The girl left the door ajar and walked slowly to him, afraid of what she might expect from him.

"I just wanted to-" she didn't have the opportunity to finish, because he caught her around the waist and pulled her towards him, hugging her tightly. The young queen put one hand on his shoulder, the other stroking his head. She herself felt tears under her eyelids again.

"Why does this keep happening to us?" he asked, raising his head and looking at her from below. Aegon also desperately needed explanations that could help him digest the pain, but no one wanted to provide them to him. The girl touched his tear-stained cheek and wiped it off, shaking her head helplessly. She also didn't have an answer to the question that would haunt them for the next few weeks, months, maybe even years.

"I just wanted to be happy and have a loving family," he said, his voice breaking. "What did i do wrong?"

Y/N burst into tears again and sat on his lap, hugging him tightly. Aegon hugged her even tighter, ignoring her cloak and the smell of the night she brought with her into his chambers. At that moment, all he desperately needed was a little comfort and a silent assurance that everything would somehow work out.

She needed it, too.

Targaryens needed each other.

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd one shot #hotd fanfic #hotd season 2 #hotd s2 #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #daemyra

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