#i hate the changes to rhaenyra in the show too | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

softspiderling · 5 months ago

Text

est-ce que je t’aime? | j.v

summary:

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to King’s Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didn’t expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader

warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Storm’s End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!

word count: 8,2k

author’s note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on reader’s and jace’s relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading 🫶🏼

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“I have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,” the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.

“Thank you Ser.”

Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jace’s letter.

This was how you and Daeron received news from King’s Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at King’s Landing together, but you knew that things hadn’t been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.

You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaena’s lady in waiting.

Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jace’s voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.

He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.

“Helaena and Aegon were married,” Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jace’s letter.

You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeron’s arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.

“To whom?”

“To each other.”

“What?”

“Look,” Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.

“Helaena must be devastated,” you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldn’t imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.

“I cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,” Daeron said with a frown. “Am I even still her son?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you chastised him. “Your mother sent you away for your own good.”

Even as you said those words, you didn’t quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?

With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jace’s letter you had left on the table.

“What does dear Jace have to say?”

“I do not like your tone,” you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.

“You could become my niece, if this continues.”

“Oh please,” you answered, not even entertaining the idea. “I am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.”

“So you have thought about marrying my nephew?”

You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.

“Go sit and write to your mother,” you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.

It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jace’s letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.

It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.

“Urgent news from King’s Landing!” the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.

“Your father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in King’s Landing.” Lord Ormund’s eyes found you. “Both of you.”

It didn’t take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldn’t believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldn’t imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?

Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You weren’t sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jace’s letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You weren’t quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserys’ funeral or the latest at Aegon’s coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeron’s chamber to distract yourself.

The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.

“I’m sorry about your father’s passing,” you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.

“I have been living without a father for quite some time,” he replied wryly, glancing at you. “I suppose it will not feel any different.”

You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. “I know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.”

Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.

“Are you nervous to see your kin again?”

The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.

“Kin? I haven’t seen them in nearly ten years,” he scoffed, starting to pace. “Mother writes to me once in a moon, Helaena’s letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.”

“They are still your kin, Daeron.”

“By blood, yes.”

“Is there any other way to be kin?”

You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.

“Yes. You.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.

“You came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this… Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,” he said quietly, squeezing your hand. “You are my sister in everything but blood.”

“Oh Daeron,” you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.

“Swear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to King’s Landing,” Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an arm’s length, his eyes searching yours.

“I swear it,” you told him, a smile on your face. “Swear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.”

Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.

A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. “Everything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.”

“Very well, we will be right out,” Daeron answered with a nod.

The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeron’s hand, standing.

“I will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.”

Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. “I will meet you outside the city walls.”

You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to King’s Landing on dragonback.

You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the King’s funeral rite and Aegon’s coronation.

Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.

“Will you miss Oldtown?” You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.

“Nothing keeping me here,” he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.

“Are you sure this is King’s Landing?”

The journey to King’s Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half day’s journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.

Daeron glanced at you before looking around. “Surely mother’s doing.”

The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.

“The Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.”

Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.

“My Lady, if you follow me.”

“Where are you taking her?” Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.

“To her chambers, my Prince.”

“She will stay with me.”

“Daeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,” you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.

“I shall not meet my mother alone.”

“Daeron-“

“Please,” Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.

The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.

“They just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.”

You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.

“They have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?”

Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeron’s siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.

“My boy.”

“Mother,” Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.

Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his mother’s arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you weren’t ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.

“Oh Gods,” you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. “Helaena.”

“I missed you,” the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.

“You look well,” she said. “Very beautiful.”

You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. “So are you, my Princess.”

Helaena smiled brightly at you. “You must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.”

“There is time for that later,” Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaena’s smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.

“Thank you,” she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. “Thank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.”

You wrapped your arms around Alicent. “Of course my Queen.”

She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.

“My Princes,” you said, bowing. “My condolences for your father.”

“Thank you,” Aemond said. “He was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.”

His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.

“Are you excited to be King, my Prince?” you asked, hoping to change the topic.

He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.

“Uh, yes, of course, my Lady,” Aegon said, clearing his throat. “Now that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.”

That made you pause.

“Jace and Luke were here?” You asked, your forehead creasing.

“Yes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,” Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadn’t known that.

“When are they expected to return?”

Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you weren’t aware of.

“They are not,” Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. “Rhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.”

Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.

“Do you not think all of this odd?” you asked, your voice low. “I know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?”

It was the day after your arrival in King’s Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeron’s room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to King’s Landing.

“Maybe thing’s have changed,” Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. “We have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jace’s letters. You couldn’t believe Rhaenyra wouldn’t rush to King’s Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.

As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasn’t how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.

Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daron’s hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.

With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you weren’t sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.

“What in the Seven Hells was that?” you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.

The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.

You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeron’s hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.

“Sister!”

Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.

“Are you well?” He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.

“I’m fine, Daeron.”

“Daeron.”

You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.

“Do you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as “sister”?!”

You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to King’s Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to King’s Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldn’t Rhaenyra and Daemon return to King’s Landing following the King’s death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didn’t even notice someone approaching you.

“Eavesdropping, are we?”

Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.

“Gods, you scared me,” you said, shaking your head. “No, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didn’t want me to come in.”

Clearly.

Aemond didn’t say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to King’s Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.

“I should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,” he said, his voice slow. “What is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?”

Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?

“Daeron is like a brother to me,” you said, voice indignant. “I care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.”

“So you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?”

The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.

“Of course, he’s the rightful heir, is he not?”

Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.

“What happened?” you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.

“They accused me of impropriety,” Daeron muttered. “Said that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.”

“We’re not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,” you sighed.

“What is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,” he argued. “How can I call a woman my mother when I haven’t seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?” Daeron hissed, his voice rising.

“I know you’re upset,” you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. “It’s hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.”

“Did they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?”

You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.

“How is my brother faring?”

You shut the door to Daron’s chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.

“It’s hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasn’t been this… Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.”

Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I was hoping he would accompany me,” he said. “But I do not think he sounds well enough to go.”

“Where are you going?”

“Storm’s End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.”

What?

“Forgive me but who else would he be loyal to?”

Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.

“Rhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.”

He paused, eyeing you carefully.

“You should come.”

“Me?”

Aemond’s eye swept over you once more and he nodded.

“Yes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,” he insisted. “It will be a short flight on Vhagar.”

“Very well,” you said, a glance on Daron’s closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Storm’s End wouldn’t be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.

You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.

“Come,” Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.

“Soves, Vhagar!”

With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasn’t long before you reached Storm’s End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.

“Just in time,” the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.

“I am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,” Aemond said, fixing his doublet. “I am here to talk to Lord Borros.”

The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.

“Prince Aemond, what can I do for you?”

“Lord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.”

“King Aegon, you say,” Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. “And what do you offer me for my loyalty?”

You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.

“Your four daughters… They are still unwed?”

A smile spread on Lord Borros’ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.

“Indeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?”

Aemond inclined his head. “Not only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.”

Your eyes widened at Aemond’s words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.

“Excellent, excellent,” Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. “Let us discuss-“

“My Lord!” A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. “Another dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Storm’s End.”

“Ah, that must be my nephew,” Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.

The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” the knight announced. “Son of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didn’t seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.

Luke’s step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.

“Lord Borros...” Luke started. “I brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.”

“Yet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,” Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. “Which is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.”

Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.

“What’s your mother’s message?”

Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemond’s mouth tugged up.

“Remind me of my father’s oath?” Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. “King Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids… Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?”

Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Luke’s silence.

“Go home, pup,” he sneered. “Tell your mother that the Lord of Storm’s End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.”

Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.

“I shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.”

Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.

“Wait, my Lord Strong.”

You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.

“Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother’s throne at no cost?”

Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.

“I will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.”

“A fight would be little challenge,” Aemond said. “No. I want you to put out your eye.”

He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.

“As payment for mine. One will serve,” Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Luke’s direction. “I would not blind you.”

Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.

“Plan to make it a gift of it to my mother.”

Luke’s eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. “No.”

“Then you are craven as well as a traitor.”

“Not here,” Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.

“Give me your eye!” Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. “Or I will take it, bastard.”

“Aemond!” you shouted, panic evident in your voice.

“Not in my hall!” Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. “The boy came as an envoy. I’ll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.”

Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.

“Aemond, wait,” you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “You’re not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?”

“He cannot get away with it, not again.”

Aemond’s voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.

“This is a thing from the past!” you reminded him. “Did you not gain a dragon from it?”

“You were not present when he took my eye!” Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Storm’s End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.

Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.

“Are you coming, or staying?” Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.

“I am coming.”

You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.

The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.

“Aemond stop!”

Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.

“What is it you’re trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. “Are you trying to kill him?”

“That boy needs to learn how to fear me,” he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.

Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.

The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagar’s jaws.

“What are you doing?!” Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.

“Saving your life!”

You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Luke’s shoulders.

Vhagar’s shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Luke’s shoulders.

“Do you trust me?”

“Not particularly, no!”

You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.

“We’re vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.”

“Arrax is faster, I just need to get back home. It’s not that far!” Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldn’t even see you.

“That’s what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you don’t trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.”

Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.

“Ilagon, Arrax!” Luke instructed. “Īlon jorrāelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.” Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.

Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.

The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.

“Luke,” you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. “Down there.”

Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.

Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. “Lykiri, Arrax,” he said, leaning his head against his dragon’s. “Īlon jāhor jikagon lenton aderī, syt sir, ziry iksos daor ȳgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.” Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, it’s not safe. Calm down, my boy.

Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.

For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.

“Are you well?”

Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.

“No. But I’m unharmed,” he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.

“It is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,” you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.

“I am sorry,” you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.

“Did you know my uncle came to Storm’s End to kill me?” Luke asked, his voice small. “Did you come to make me lower my guards?”

“Forgive me?”

You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.

“I cannot speak of Aemond’s intentions,” you said truthfully. “Only of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revenge…”

Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.

“I’m only here to help you,” you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. “Arrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?”

Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.

“Yes he would.”

“See, you’re in no danger,” you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. “Now take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.”

Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left King’s Landing.

“You have grown into a fine young Prince,” you told him. “I almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borros’ hall.”

Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. “I’m almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.”

You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.

“How is Jace?” you asked, your chest tight. You couldn’t believe how it was mere moon’s turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.

Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.

“Jace is… Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my mother’s claim.”

Your forehead creased.

Usurp?

“Pardon… Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?”

Luke stared at you, mouth agape. “… Yes. He stole my mother’s inheritance.”

You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.

“Now everything is falling into place… Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!” You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. “Daeron. I’ve left Daeron at King’s Landing without telling him that I’ve gone.”

You didn’t want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.

“I’m sure all will be well,” Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.

“You should get some rest,” you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. “It might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.”

Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.

Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.

Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew he’d want to go home as soon as possible.

“Luke, the rain has stopped,” you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.

“It should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.”

Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.

“It is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.”

You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you weren’t sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didn’t need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragon’s neck gently.

You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.

“Come, we need to leave before the weather turns again.”

“Luke, no,” you argued but Luke shook his head.

“You saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,” Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. “Arrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.”

You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.

“Very well.”

The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.

“Mēre mōrī kipagon gō īlon issi lenton, issa valonquar,” Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. “Soves.” One more flight until we’re home, my boy.

Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.

“Īlon issi bē konīr, Arrax. Sepār mirrī tolī.” We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.

Luke’s voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.

“Prince Lucerys!”

A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.

“Her Grace has been awaiting your arrival.”

Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. “Take us to my mother.”

The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadn’t seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.

“Prince Lucerys, your Grace.”

Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.

“Luke!”

“Mother!”

Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldn’t believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.

Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerys’ face with her hands.

“What happened?”

“Aemond and Vhagar were already at Storm’s End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath… When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadn’t intervened…”

Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.

You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.

“You’re Helaena’s lady in waiting,” Rhaenyra said.

“I was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.”

Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.

“Mother! Luke!”

You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought he’d be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.

“What are you doing here?”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

author’s note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??

#jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace x reader #jacaerys x reader #jace x you #jacaerys x you #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys velaryon fanfic #jacaerys velaryon imagine #jacaerys velaryon fic #jacaerys velaryon #house of the dragon #hotd

1K notes · View notes

lionneee · 3 months ago

Text

Your sworn sword

English is not my first language, please be kind

Masterlist

Taglist

•Warnings: fingering, degradation (just a bit), 'just the tip', talking of sexual themes, piv, smut.•

Part 1 -> Part 2

{Request: I have a request! Aemond is send across the narrow sea to be the sworn sword/knight of a (verryy beautiful) princess from a noble house is esso’s. As punishment what he did to lucerys Thanks for reading dear 💙}

To say that Prince Aemond was grumpy was an euphemism.

He was rigid, stoic, and rude.

But your father loved him.

You couldn’t understand why, not after his most recent kill: his little nephew.

You remembered meeting Luke Velaryon once, he was a nice, gentle, kind boy.

His brother Jace was just the same.

Princess Rhaenyra had been invited as a guest at your father’s name day feast with her family, and you remembered spending a nice afternoon with her sons.

You actually kept contact with her youngest child, Jace. You two sometimes sent letters to each other, talking of your days apart.

You would have never said it outloud, but you had a weakness for the boy’s dark, beautiful hair.

But he was promised to her cousin Baela.

As soon as you heard the news, you thought he would have stopped sending you letters, but he didn't, and you almost cried of joy when the next letter came.

Then, your father sided with the greens.

He sided with rude, dangerous people, and named the worst of them as your sworn sword.

When he told you about his choice you begged him, you cried, you did everything you could to try to change his mind but it was all to no avail.

Now, all the other Ladies never sat with you, they were afraid to speak with you, all because of some dark, evil, scary person standing behind you, following every step you took.

It was so obvious how much he hated being a night, yet, he stood his role perfectly.

Aemond was always there, lurking like a shadow behind you, his presence cold and heavy, suffocating your every breath. He never spoke to you unless necessary, never showed any warmth or softness in his voice. There was nothing but formality and distance, a thick wall of indifference that made your skin crawl whenever he was near.

To be fair, the only thing you thought interesting of him was his dragon Vaghar.

Your days had become a game of silence, your once carefree nature now replaced with the constant awareness of his eyes on you. You missed the days when you could write to Jace without a worry, when his words brought you comfort and a glimpse of hope. Now, the letters felt like a secret rebellion, something dangerous, but you couldn’t give them up. They were the only link to a world that still held some warmth.

You still wrote to him, though your letters had become shorter, more cautious. You dared not mention Aemond, or your isolation. Instead, you spoke of mundane things, of books you were reading, of the changing seasons. Jace’s responses, too, had shifted, though he remained kind and attentive. There was always a note of tension, a hint of restraint. You knew he was aware of the shifting tides, of your father's allegiance to the Greens.

You happily walked in your room, smiling as you held the newest letter on your hand from Jace.

Aemond was walking right behind you, but you couldn’t care.

Jace's letter had just come.

You chuckled to yourself as you closed the door of your room behind you, leaving Aemond outside, guarding your door.

You jogged to your desk, sitting down on the chair and breaking the sigil, opening with trembling hands the letter.

There were only a few lines written.

You furrowed your brows, confused. He usually wrote at least one page.

Dearest friend,

I assume you have heard of my family’s recent loss, my sweet brother Luke, gone by the hand of my uncle Aemond.

It saddens me to tell you this, but due to your father’s allegiance and your newest sworn sword, I believe it is time to end our communications.

Jace Velaryon

You felt a pain in your chest.

A deep pain.

You weren’t going to receive any more letters from him.

I believe it is time to end our communications.

You stood up from your desk, leaving the letter to hit the floor as you ran to your bed, laying face down, your arms crossed under your face as you bursted into tears.

You didn’t eat lunch, you didn’t have dinner. You didn’t want to get up from your bed.

Your maids, even one of your closest friends tried to walk past Aemond to check on you, but he was impenetrable, he wouldn’t let anyone in, not if you didn’t want them to.

His behavior left you speechless.

You knew he was loyal, you knew he was one to do his duty, but the way he stood up for you, not letting anyone in just as you asked, left you almost flattered.

The hours dragged on as you laid in your bed, the room dark and suffocating. The weight of Jace's words still lingered, pressing down on your chest. It was as though the last thread connecting you to the warmth of your past had been severed. You felt utterly alone, the castle walls seeming colder, the silence more deafening.

But outside your door, Aemond remained, steadfast and unmoving. His presence felt different now, less like the shadow you despised and more like an unavoidable part of your life. He had become a constant, whether you liked it or not, and now, oddly, that constancy brought a shred of comfort in your moment of loss.

By the time the moon rose high in the sky, you hadn’t moved from your bed, save to cry quietly into your pillow. The pain of Jace's rejection, not just of you but of the friendship you had cherished, was overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to think of anything else, let alone leave your room.

A soft knock echoed through the thick wooden door. At first, you ignored it, thinking it was another maid or friend trying to check on you, Aemond would have taken care of it in a moment. But after a moment, there was another knock, firm yet measured, followed by a voice, calm, collected, and unmistakably Aemond’s.

"You haven't eaten." He said, his tone devoid of his usual coldness, though it was still restrained. You laid still, wondering if you could pretend you hadn’t heard him. But the silence lingered too long, and it was clear he wasn’t going to leave. He was your sworn sword, after all, bound to you, whether you liked it or not.

"I’m not hungry." You muttered into your pillow, your voice muffled and thick with the remnants of tears.

There was a pause, a moment of hesitation, which was unlike him. Then, Aemond spoke again, quieter this time. "It has been hours. You should take something, if only to keep your strength."

His words were filled with disinterest despite the meaning of them. He made impossible things possible.

"I don’t want anything." You repeated, more firmly this time.

The door opened with a loud creek, and Aemond just walked inside. You scoffed, annoyed, but you felt too sad to think about him pissing you off.

“Leave me alone!” You groaned on the mattress, clenching your hands into fists. You could hear him moving in the room.

“That puppy of my nephew is what has reduced you in this state?” He asked, scoffing. You turned your head to look at him, and you saw him looking down at a letter in his hands.

Jace’s letter.

You bolted upright on the bed, fury boiling inside you at the sight of Aemond holding Jace’s letter. His tall, imposing figure seemed even more oppressive in the dim light of your room. His one good eye flicked over the page with a mixture of disdain and cold amusement, while the sapphire in his other socket glinted in the low light.

"Give that back!" you demanded, your voice cracking from the tears and frustration, but Aemond made no move to return the letter. He dropped the letter, letting out another scoff.

“You’re a fool.” He said, his rudeness making you red to your ear.

“How dare you talk to me like that?” You exclaimed, indignited.

“He’s a bastard. You’re sweet on a bastard, the son of my whore sister. That’s foolish.”

You felt your blood boil at his words, each syllable a sharp jab to your heart. “You don’t know anything about me! You think you can judge me just because you think you're so much better than everyone else!?”

He stepped closer, towering over you, his expression a mixture of contempt and something unreadable. “I am better than everyone else. I’m surely better than that boy who has no right on the throne he wants to claim so much.”

Your anger flared, but underneath it was a deep sorrow. “He’s more than just a name or a title! Jace has been kind to me, and you—” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “you are the one who brings darkness wherever you go.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed, the air crackling with tension. “Kindness won’t save you, and neither will that bastard. This world isn’t built on sentiment. It’s built on strength and blood.”

“Strength?” you spat, incredulous. “Strength that comes from killing boys? That’s your idea of strength?”

He looked unfazed, his expression hardening. “Luke was weak. That’s why he’s dead.”

“You’re twisted.” You hissed. “It brings you pleasure, doesn’t it? Being feared, see people looking away from you –” He pushed you back before you could continue, as he started pulling off the upper structure of his armor.

You stumbled back as you looked up at him, confused and stunned, but he pushed you back again as he took off the lower part of his armor, making you fall back on your bed.

“You want to know what brings me pleasure?” He grabbed your ankle, dragging you down the bed until your butt was almost over it. He pushed the skirts of your dress up, exposing your legs.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You tried to close your legs, or pull down the skirts, but he raised your legs up, then he leaned down to grab both your thighs, spreading them apart, pressing his face against your underwear.

“This.” He mumbled against the thin clothing, his nose pressing against a funny spot against you, that made a strange sound come out of your mouth. “This brings me pleasure.” He growled as he pulled down your underwear along with the stockings. “Teaching stupid ladies their places.” He said as he dived his face back between your thighs, now his mouth pressing on that same spot, sucking and rubbing with his tongue, leaving you breathless for a moment, the pleasure was so high and so good you couldn’t speak.

You couldn’t see him, your skirts were covering the view, but you didn’t really care. Not when it felt this good.

You didn’t think you'd ever felt this good.

The one who was making you feel good, was a Targaryen Prince, a child murdered, the rider of the largest dragon in the world.

You could only squirm, your mind numbed by the pleasure, slowly overcoming all the alarms your brain was sending you, telling you to push the prince away, to not let him touch you in such an appropriate manner.

But then, all so suddenly it stopped, leaving you panting heavily. You saw Aemond raising his head from between your legs, coming into your field of vision.

His chin was wet, his only eye almost completely black as he looked down at you.

His hands moved on your skin, almost gently, caressing your skin as they moved up, your knees, your ankles. He wrapped his fingers around your ankles, securing your legs raised, your feet by each side of his head.

You should have stopped him.

This was improper, it was a sin. A sin you were committing with the worst man in the Seven Kingdoms.

You wanted to move, kick him back, telling him to stop touching you with his filthy, blood-stained hands, but under the dark gaze of his single eye you couldn’t move.

Aemond tightened the grip on your ankles, suddenly pulling you up so your hips lifted from the mattress. Startled, you let out a weak squeak, gripping the sheets tightly as your body moved forward, the back of your thighs landing harshly against him, your core rubbing against a protuberance on his pants, the impact sending another jolt of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah, you like it.” He hummed to himself as he dropped you back on the mattress. He leaned down, his body making space for himself between your legs as his face came to hover yours. “And you want to feel it more, don't you?” He smirked, looking down at you.

You could feel your face burning because of his words, more likely because of the truthfulness of them, because yes, you wanted to feel it again.

“No-” You mumbled as you looked up at him, directly in his eye, trying to sound firm, but he simply chuckled, grabbing your face with his hand, his fingers digging in the soft skin of your cheeks. “Such a liar. No wonder why my sweet bastard-nephew doesn’t want you.”

That stang.

Your eyes immediately filled with tears and anger.

“How dare you?” You hissed as you tried to push him off of you, slapping his chest repeatedly, but he only smiled even more.

“There, there…” He hummed as his hand went back underneath your dress, finding you private again. No matter how much you fought, his body was keeping your legs apart, and he seemed impossible to move.

You only stopped when you felt a strange feeling, something filling you in a way you’ve never felt, that made you gasp out loud. You unconsciously let out a moan, your back arched instinctively, as your body almost contorted as he started moving his finger inside you.

“So easy to shut you up, mh?” He asked as he followed your face to be able to see every expression you made. “So easy to put into place.” He added then in a low voice.

You gritted your teeth together, trying to find in you the force to push him off, to not give him the satisfaction he was showing with that damn smile of his, but you couldn’t. The only sounds that came out of your mouth were whines or soft moans as his finger moved faster inside you, caressing everywhere inside you, and eliciting a pure bliss of pleasure.

“Jace is a fool for leaving you.” He said as he looked at you, your eyes half closed, your head leaned back, your lips apart. He didn’t even look like he realized he said that, it was like he was talking to himself and accidentally said it outloud. You turned your head to look at him, finding his eyes fixed on you, staring in appreciation. “You’re a rare beauty.” He said, his voice low and rough.

You blinked slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. A warmth spread across your chest, but you weren’t sure if it was the pleasure or the way his gaze lingered on you.

No.

You thought to yourself.

Not him.

Please.

But the way he looked at you, like he was looking at the most beautiful thing in the world was doing something to you. It made your stomach clench, your head dizzier.

You’ve been told countless times by suitors that you were a sight to see, a beauty, but it did nothing if not make you blush or feel appreciated.

With Jace you felt your heart beat so loud you feared it could jump out of your chest.

You too were aware of your beauty, but you never thought of it as a rareness.

But now with Aemond Targaryen, the cold, mean, cruel man, who was doing unspeakable things to you, who looked at you like a Goddess, you truly felt like one.

Aemond’s gaze pierced through you, a silent intensity in his expression that made your breath catch in your throat. You wished you could deny the way his presence and actions were affecting you, wished you could ignore the way his words stirred something deep inside. But the truth was undeniable.

As he slipped his second finger inside your thigh core, you felt it crushing on you. You didn’t know what, but for a moment, you forgot about everything, Jace, the war, Aemond’s sins, your worries, your anger and your sadness, it all vanished by the newfound feeling of ecstasy. You whined louder, making aemond clamp his other hand immediately over your mouth to muffle your sounds as he kept moving your fingers. You looked at him with wide eyes, you didn’t know what had just happened to you, but you wanted to keep feeling it, no matter what cost, you wanted to feel that good again.

He kept pumping his fingers inside you as you saw him starting to move, rub, against your thigh, some hardness pressing and caressing your skin. His brows arched slightly, his eye narrowing slightly as he pressed his hips harder against you, seeking more friction and pressure.

You’ve never seen a man do a face close to that one.

You’ve never seen Aemond make a face like that, and it was beautiful, it was breathtaking, hypnotizing, you felt like watching him all day as he experienced his pleasure.

He didn’t miss the way you seemed affected, obviously. He looked down at you and found you staring at him, his eye darkened even more, his pupil dilating even more if possible as he clenched his jaw.

“You like this?” He looked down at you, moving his hand from your mouth to your neck, gripping it tightly, but not enough to actually cut your air off. You tilted your head back, wrapping your hands on his wrist and arm, gasping as he slipped his fingers out, passing them over your pearl just to see you squirm, his lips moving into a smirk. “No.” He said as he sat up in his haunches between your legs, forcing you to spread them to make room for his body as he started to undo his pants. “You love it.”

You tried to look down, trying to understand what he was doing but he squeezed your throat into a warning, keeping your head in place. “What are you trying to see, uh?” He growled as he pushed his pants down enough to let his cock spring free. “Such a curious menace, always getting into trouble.” He hissed as he leaned over her to look at you from above. “Always sneaking around, making my life harder.” He gritted his teeth. “Making me chase you.” He raised her skirts to your waist as he aligned his cock to your core, wet and warm, hot.

“No – “ You mumbled as you felt the tip pressing on your skin. “Y-you can’t- We’re not married-” You mumbled as you panted, shaking your head. Aemond smiled down at you, his thumb caressing the skin of her neck.

“No one will notice.” He said firmly, pushing slightly, making his tip grace the inside your core, just slightly, enough to hear another moan from you. “Just…” He groaned as he repeated the movement, moving his hips forward as his face contorted in pleasure. “... the tip – Fuck –” He groaned as he started moving his hips, the tip of his cock was being sucked in every time by your cunt, as if it was trying to keep him inside.

It didn’t feel bad.

She did feel like her cunt was being torn apart, but she found the pain mixed to the pleasure extremely pleasing.

It was good.

It was so good.

The pleasure was so overwhelming, so strong, so blissful.

“A-Aemond – “ You bit your lower lip as you arched your back, jerking your hips to find more pleasure as his tip kept slipping out and back in.

Aemond couldn’t tear his eyes off the sight, your core making a wet sound every time he slipped in, your walls forced open to make space for his thick cock, his red tip being welcomed in the warmness of your body, and then the sound of your weak wail every time he pulled back, only enough to be able to push back in.

“Yeah like that –” He growled as he tightened his hand around your neck, his eye still fixed on how your bodies connected, his thrusts regular, calculated and hard.

He was hanging by a thread, and he was showing a great amount of control, just by not slamming his whole long cock inside you, and making you scream in pain and pleasure.

“Grind yourself like a whore –” He snarled as he started rolling his hips faster, the wet sound growing louder along with his pace. “Fuck youre so tight – You’re squeezing me inside - ”

It didn’t bother you the way he called you, the way he spoke. If not, it only aroused you more.

You bit your lower lip harder, and no matter how low you tried to keep your noises, it became impossible as Aemond moved his free hand, using his fingers to circle your pearl, putting just the right amount of pressure. Your back arched violently as you threw your head back, your mouth open in an oval shape, grunts and moans coming out one after another as Aemond tightened his hand around your throat, starting to cut some of your air supplies, your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

It was all so much.

It was all so good.

“Come.” He growled as he finally looked up at you. “Come, before I lose it.” His eye fixed on yours. He looked feral. He looked like a chained animal, that once set free, would have hunted and killed everything in its path. “Come, before absolutely ruin you.”

It wasn’t like you had any control over it, because when the pleasure reached you in such a hard, strong frisson, you could only surrender to it. Your eyes widened, your mouth opened, but Aemond tightened his hand on your throat even more, killing every sound you could have let out. Your eyes watered as your hips jerked, the pleasure washing over you in devastating waves.

He snarled, letting go of your throat, but you barely had the time to take a deep breathe because you felt a stinging pain, barely muffled by the aftershocks of you climax, as Aemond grabbed tightly your hips and harshly pulled to him, making you slip down on the bed and making his cock thrust completely inside you, as he moaned on top of you.

“So fucking tight.” His voice was strained, his breathing heavy, then, you felt a strange sensation of wetness inside you.

You whined as the bliss of pleasure slowly faded away, leaving you in an uncomfortable pain, so you pushed Aemond away, who retrieved with a groan, slipping out of you.

You slowly sat up, looking at him as your mind slowly registered the last moments.

Aemond stood up from the bed, tucking himself inside his pants and starting to put his armor back on.

You didn’t say anything in the meanwhile, you just stared down at the bed covers, where you and Aemond were laying till a few seconds before, committing one of the worst sins ever.

A sin that felt so good.

You snapped out of your moment of trance only when you heard the door slam shut, and a strange smell of burned paper in the air. You moved to the end of the bed, on the floor, there was a piece of paper on fire.

Jace’s letter.

Part 2

Taglist: @ka1afbr @cynic-spirit @ladythornofrivia @zenka69 @queenofthekeep @adorewhatever @diannnnsss @kotadislikesthissite @iloveallmyboys @valyrianflower @dixie-elocin @gelacat0413 @quinquinquincy @mamawiggers1980 @darylandbethfanforever9 @rhaethoughts @believeinthefireflies95 @urfavnoirette @summerposie @sk1mah1 @queenofshinigamis @anukulee @chlmtfilms @m-riaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @malfoycassimalfoy

511 notes · View notes

flowerisevil · 5 months ago

Text

For I am yours.

Gwayne Hightower x Targaryen princess original character.

A/N: this was one of the request I received but I accidentally deleted i along with my previous works:( anyways I use an OC for this one sorry, I hope you'll like it.

Disclaimer: mention of past attempted SA, inform me if i miss anything also possible grammatical and typographical errors ahead. English is not my first language

Summary: he was sworn to her, he is hers in any way she requires him.

~°~°~

Elaerys Targaryen, the epitome of grace and beauty in the Seven Kingdoms, many have said she had surpassed the qualification of the beauty of Targaryen woman, they said she was favored by the Sevens for having a such gorgeous features. And Elaerys was much aware of the attention and beauty she acquired, and her face is the exact reason why she have different guards every moon.

Her father, the King had to change her sworn protector every moon because of two reason, they had attempted to took advantage of her, or fell for her beauty. All of them broke their oath to the princess leading them to be exiled from the position and in King's Landing.

"It is none of your fault, Elaerys" her older sister comforted her, as she heard the news that her new sworn protector was caught glimpsing at her bathro door.

"Nyra, t-this is the exact reason why his grace would not allow me to go outside these walls, I want to go out, I want to visit the cities and people!" Elaerys complained, she envy her older sister Rhaenyra when their father allowed her to have her marital tour, Rhaenrya was abled to travel while her stayed in the Keep.

"next moon perhaps father will less strict to you after your name day" Rhaenyra cheered for her as she finished braiding Elaerys white hair.

"you look exactly like mother" her sister added smiling at the sight of her younger sister.

Elaerys bittersweet smile, she loved and hated it the same time, she loved being beautiful no doubt but its the very reason why she's also caged in here.

"Do you think If I get married I will be much more free?" Elaerys asked, her hand scratch the blade of her shoulders anxiously.

Rhaenyra sighed. "It depends but mostly no, when you became a wife you have duties to attend to Elaerys" Rhaenyra pitied her, she knows the exact feeling of being prisoned here in the castle.

Rhaenyra only hugged her to show comfort, she knows when the time has come the King will learn to let her fly on her own wings, after all she is a dragon nonetheless she is made of fire and blood too.

Her name day came, and the right time for marriage, the King prepared a grand celebration for her second born daughter, a ball and feast.

Elaerys sat on her seat beside her was her sister Rhaenyra almost drunk from all of the wine she drank tonight. The princess looked around setting her eyes on a familiar deep blue eyes, Ser Harwin Strong.

"You missed him don't you?" Rhaenyra whispered beside her, teasing her sister to its past lover.

Elaerys shrugged her, her sister wasn't wrong but she had decided to stay away from him. He was her almost, if only Ser Harwin is not bounded by too much honor, that he chose his duty than asking for her hand in marriage, but she could not blame him for not risking his position.

"Why don't you tell our father that you want him to marry? I am quite sure he will trust Ser Harwin on your protection, that man can dead someone who will dare to lay a finger on you" Rhaenyra jested as she loudly laughed.

It's not like she did not thought of that but other than his bounded to his duty, Elaerys felt Harwin did not want to do anything with her anymore, she would not want to tie him in a loveless marriage with her forever.

Her eyes searched for him again once again, she looked for him in the dancing crowd, maybe his out there dancing with some other highborn ladies.

"Done looking for that brawny man?" Her eyes promptly looked up to see their cousin Laenor, just like her sister he also knew the past business she and Ser Harwin once had.

Laenor sat on the other empty side chair beside her. "Happy name day cousin, welcome to the right age of marriage" Laenor and Rhaenyra both laughed, looks like their three years in marriage are already taking big impact on each other.

She both sign them to stop when they saw the King approaching beside him was his Hand and another red headed man.

The three youngster Targaryens stood up, bowing to the King before Viserys spoke. "My daughter happy name day, here may I present to you your new sworn protector"

A man stepped forward, wearing a green and silver tunic, his hair looks like an ginger auburn hair close up, pale skin, blue eyed and freckled man reveals himself.

"Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown" the King introduced.

Elaerys eyes darted to Otto, this is his son?

"Hightower? I did not assume Ser Otto has a knight i their family" Rhaenyra commented.

Otto simply smiled, sarcasm filled his face. "Gwayne is Alicent's older brother, my heir to Oldtown"

Laenor spoke first of the three of them. "An honor to meet you Ser Gwayne, I do hope you enjoy your stay here in King's Landing and you will keep an eye at my cousin, the princess she can be very hard to handle sometimes"

It made the group laughed, Gwayne smiled while nodding in acknowledgment, his gaze moved to the princess, Gwayne noticed the discreet look she gave him. He bow in respect but Elaerys only nod and offer him a small smile.

"Thank you your grace, I shall observe Ser Gwayne's skills" Elaerys uttered, it earned a laugh from her father.

As the celebration continued Gwayne stay near her, she thought he would start his duty by tomorrow but the knight stayed close to where she was.

Gwayne was relief and bizarre for the princess, commonly highborn ladies would love this kind of events but instead she sat there and watch the crowd, most specifically he noticed that she's eyeing someone in the crowd.

Gwayne examined her, all of the stories about her graceful beauty, he thought people was just exaggerating again about someone from the Targaryen dynasty but no, her white silver hair neatly dropped down, her lilac eyes, and flawless skin, her entire aspect screams elegance and royalty, she was indeed a princess.

Elaerys was feeling spiritless around this crowd, she wish to have a breath of the air outside, she stood from her seat and walked away from the banquet, she was thankful Laenor and Rhaenyra both left her for a moment so no one would stop her from leaving.

She knew her new sworn protector was following her, it was his duty what else did she expect?

She stopped infront of the empty balcony, she turned around seeing her knight near the open dood to guard it. Silence filled the balcony, Elaerys was quite familiar with that aspect but her knight on the other side seems bothered it.

"Don't you relish the grand celebration inside, princess?" Gwayne spoke, he wasn't use to a such silence.

"I seem to grow tired of it Ser"

"Then why don't you rest on your chamber?"

Elaerys frowned, turning her head to look at her knight, his voice was filled with sarcasm?

"Pardon?"

Gwayne seem to take notice about the change of expression of the princess, "I mean no offense, princess"

After that silence filled them again, until excuse herself to rest no one talked again.

Months had passed Gwayne surprisingly was able to keep his oath and duty, but he did admit it to himself that somehow he catched an attraction to the princess, with her kind and pleasing demeanor he tried his best but it was too late.

They had interacted and shared a lot of unexpected proximity many times, just like right now. Both of them under of one of the trees in Kingswood. Elaerys sneaked outside the King's Landing after hearing the news that the is planning to match him with Tyland Lannister, Gwayne spotted her sneak outside the castle and when he confronted her, the princess plead him and there they are.

"That man age is near his deathbed" Elaerys muttered, a bottle of ale on her right hand, she felt like her head was spinning.

"That is a very rude thing to say princess" Gwayne looked at him and continued "but I very much agree so"

Gwayne watched her reaction, when Elaerys laughed he did the same, relieved that he managed to let out a pretty laugh from her mouth. A few moments later the two shared a deep conversation.

"Ser Gwayne did you ever had a relationship with someone you shouldn't had?"

Gwayne rested his head on the pillar of the tree. "I never had a serious relationship my princess"

"you mean you only dealt with whores in brothels?"

"not only in brothels my princess" Gwayne fixed his armor before speaking again. "But those were before I was appointed as a knight, as I enter knighthood I have left all of those behind"

Elaerys smiled as she nodded. "I do not criticize your Ser for acting like a normal human"

"I do not think you're the type of judging someone without fully knowing them"

A smiles formed on the drunk face of the princess, she drank another sip from her ale, Gwayne did not want to stop her, he knows she had a rough day and he would not neglect her for having freedom for once.

"If you do not mind princess, have you fell for someone you should not have?"

She did. And looks like she was about to again.

Gwayne saw the glint in her eyes, he nodded. "i shall take that as a yes. If I may, who is this lucky Lord then?"

Gwayne can feel his heart beating fast, he was hoping for the answer that he wants. That his name would be the words that would trail off from her mouth.

"Ser Harwin Strong, he was my first lover.."

Gwayne let out a dramatic gasp. "You have a very surprising taste, princess"

Who knows that the man of honor, the one they call the hard Breakbones and the Lord Commander of City Watch fell for the princess beauty?

But who wouldn't? That's the very reason why the King appointed him to this position. His Grace had expected him to not have any romantic attachment to the princess.

Elaerys talked about Harwin for hours and it was making Gwayne's ear fuzz, the constant utter of the name Harwin from the princess pain his ears, maybe letting the princess finish those three bottles of ale was a bad idea, she was intoxicated.

"Ser Gwayne"

Her words caught his attention, finally a good name came out from her pretty lips. As he turned his face to her, he was stunned by their proximity, he hadn't realize that Elaerys already closed the gap between them.

"You shall have your very own oath to me" The princess declared. "I want you to make your own vow and swear it to me" He thought maybe its just one of the princess nonsense game driven by the alcohol but somehow in him felt to take it seriously.

His eyes pierced into her, he suddenly lost all his ability to look away, she was more than beautiful, its not just her hair and eyes, but what her face express and trying to tell that makes her beautiful. As she looked up to him their gaze met, both glued on each other.

"I Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown vow to you my Princess Elaerys Targaryen, that I will do my very best and offer my very last breath serving and protecting you, I shall serve no one but you, and you shall have me for anything you require, for I am yours"

It almost sounded like a marriage vow.

Elaerys beamed at him her hand reaching to cup his cheeks "You are a very beautiful man Ser Gwayne" were the last think she muttered before she drift off to sleep.

Is she always like this? Is this the reason why her past knights all head over heels to her? If yes then he himself is no different from those knights.

"No wonder those men was enchanted by this lovely princess" he exhales, guiding the princess to lay comfortably on the grounds, he cannot risk riding his horse with a wasted princess with him.

He took of his white cloak and placed it on the ground to serve as a sheet of the princess, after placing her to her handmaid bed he leaned and pressed his back on the tree.

He cannot end up like those knights, exiled from their position and in King's Landing. The King trusted him with his daughter and Seven hells the princess is younger than her sister Alicent.

"I am not even sure if she feels the same way" he chuckles.

***

After that night, Elaerys felt a wall that her knight build, he became distant and cold. And she knew the very exact reason why.

She hated that she yearned for him after that night, she hated that she have to pretend everyday that his distance from her did not bother her, she hated that he placed a barrier between them. A lot change after that night, she sometimes caught herself looking at him for too long, glimpsing at his lips, looking or searching for him when she would lose the sight of him.

"I want to go to Rhaenyra" Elaerys spoke while walking through the halls.

"As you wish princess, I shall accompa-"

"I would like to go alone, for the meantime you can have an hour off Ser Gwayne, you have nothing to worry I'll stay inside her chambers" Elaerys explained

He wanted to protest, to not let her take away the only opportunity he have to be close to her, the only chance he can see glance at her for as much as he can, but reading her eyes he sense that he should let her after all he is serving her and he should do whatever she commander him to do.

Elaerys started walking away from him, he can hear the fast click of her shoes showing her urgency.

Elaerys did not bother to knock on her sister's door as she opened it, she walked to Rhaenyra's bed and hugged her.

"What's the problem?" Rhaenyra spoke but the princess keep her head on her older sister's shoulder.

"Rhaenyra, what if I wish to marry someone?" Elaerys lifted her head, facing her sister's confused face.

"and? You make it sound that the man you want to marry is someone who you shouldn't" Rhaenyra replied.

Elaerys did not manage to answer, Rhaenyra had hit the right words. Rhaenyra sat straight concern filled her face.

"It's Ser Gwayne isn't it?"

Elaerys nodded her head dropping ashamed of what she put herself into.

Rhaenyra chuckles as she raised her sister's face. "You have nothing to be ashamed of Elaerys, Ser Gwayne is an honorable knight"

"exactly Rhaenyra he is a knight, my sworn protector, he took an oath, it is treason if we engage into any romantic relations"

"Elaerys sometimes you have to take a risk and know its outcome than not doing anything"

Rhaenyra talked to her like how an older sister would, she gave her advices and guidance of what she should do.

"The decision is on you sister, and whatever it is I will support you" was Rhaenyra's last words.

Is the decision truly on hers?

***

She have thought of her sister words, after all Elaerys is not sure if Gwayne even felt the same.

While walking in Godswood and Gwayne guarding her as usual, she was admiring the fall of leaves from the branches when someone called her from behind.

He knew exactly those deep gentle voice, she turned around and faced the man infront of her.

"Ser Harwin"

Harwin Strong bow to her, his large hand reaching for her as he pressed his lips on her knuckles. Gwayne's face on the other hand grimaced at the sigh, he was not liking the sigh he was having.

"I pass by outside and I saw you and thought I should pay you a visit" Harwin replied.

Elaerys smiled bitterly "How ironic that you only thought of that now" it came out as a whisper but Harwin clearly heard it.

"I will be away for a very long time darling" he tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear, before he softly cupped her cheeks.

Elaerys expected that she would melt as soon as he does that but she felt nothing instead her eyes looked for Gwayne, as soon as they locked their eyes Gwayne looked away like he saw nothing.

"I do not see any reason for you to inform me Ser Harwin, I have thought you do not want anything to do with-" she stopped her words when Harwin leaned his forehead to hers.

"my Elaerys, forgive me for what I have done, once I come back I promise I will ask for your hand in marriage and I will fight for it no matter-"

Harwin was pushed away from her, she looked at Gwayne who had separated the both of them.

"I expect you are well known on the ethics and policies of touching the princess Ser Harwin, it is treason" Gwayne informed, he stepped forward placing her behind him.

"I meant no harm to the princess, apologies for my insolence"

Gwayne wanted to curse him, he can resist him touching her hands but leaning his forehead to hers? Acting like their a married couple? Fuck that.

Elaerys tried to defend Harwin but Gwayne keep on talking about the boundary Harwin crossed.

"Ser Gwayne, do not worry he meant no harm"

Elaerys looked at Gwayne when he faced her, she can almost read his entire face, it was mixed of emotion, hurt, anxious, possessiveness and jealousy? He was looking intently at her, like he wants to say something.

Gwayne felt his heart sank everytime Elaerys would defend this man, he looked at her with defeat and resignation.

"Ser Harwin you are dismissed" Elaerys command.

"But Elaerys-"

"May the Sevens bless you for your long journey"

Was what Elaerys only answer before she left the Godswood, Harwin gaze dropped on Elaerys fingers that swiftly pulled her knight's hand, dragging him inside the castle.

Gwayne was too clouded too realize that Elaerys was holding his hands, he tried to pull away only for the princess to tighten her grip. Soon they stopped in an empty hallway, Elaerys dropped her grasp to him.

"Ser Gwayne, what is it up with you? You don't to be yourself lately?"

"Princess you have nothing to worry about"

"What was that earlier? You dare to threaten Ser Harwin Strong?"

"He touched you princess, he was too close to you it was improper" Gwayne stood straight, defending his argument.

"Are you jealous of him?" Elaerys blurted out, it was an embarrassing question to ask.

Elaerys can see him frown, she looked away after a few minutes of no answer. "I am sorry Ser Gwayne for that I did not mean to-"

"It was more than jealousy that I felt earlier princess"

Elaerys looked at him, his head was facing down, completely avoiding her eyes.

"I had become one of the knight that broke their oath to you" he added "so when I saw you with Ser Harwin earlier with his forehead resting to yours I was...furious, I wanted to break his face and make sure he would not be able to do that to you again." her sworn protector confessed.

Gwayne sighs before he let out a plain chuckle "How can I ever resist someone like you? I cannot blame those men even Ser Harwin for falling to a such beauty" he added, his words delivered compliments but its voice was filled with hurt.

Gwayne bowed before he excused himself, Elaerys was left there frozen, not a single word even left her lips, she was too stunned to his confession.

Gwayne was no where to be seen the rest of the day after their encounter, Elaerys searched for him, she even asked the servants and other kingsguard but they all said that they did not saw him.

Elaerys has to express herself to him too, he has to know what she felt for him.

Elaerys gave up and was taking rest on her chamber when there was a knock on her doors, she let them in and it revealed Rhaenyra.

"Father....he summons you in the throne room" Rhaenyra informed a comforting smile carved on her lips.

"For what?" She asked but Rhaenyra only shrugged, with a complaining groan, Elaerys stood up before walking with her sister through their way inside the throne room.

As the door opened, the two princess walked infront of the king as they bowed.

"Ah my daughter Elaerys I would like you to meet Lord Cregan Stark, from the North son and heir of Lord Stark" Viserys introduced, the man Cregan walked up to her and bow.

"An honor to meet you princess" he politely greeted.

He looked like a chivalrous man, well men from the North tends to be more honorable than men from here.

"Lord Cregan is here to begin his courtship to you" Elaerys eyes widened at her father's last words.

"Since you have not found someone you wish to marry than I already find one for yours, Lord Cregan is your betrothed from now on" the King commanded.

The princess fisted her hands, "I do not wish to marry him your grace"

"you will not disobey your king, Elaerys"

Elaerys stepped back away from Cregan and face the King.

"Forgive me your grace but I do not plan marrying Lord Cregan and be sent to the North after?"

Viserys looked at Rhaenyra signing her to stop and convince her sister but Rhaenyra looked away like she saw nothing.

"Elaerys, Ser Cregan will protect you"

"By how? Isolating me in a cold place? Father I am a dragon why would you put a fire in a place like North?"

Viserys stood up, even his Hand try his best to calm him down Viserys refused. Elaerys breathed out composing the right words to deliver her message.

"Father...I have someone in my mind that I wish to marry, forgive me" Elaerys said before walking out of the room, she felt suffocated.

Viserys on the other hand was left with frustration, he have thought he would not have a hard time finding a match for his daughter.

"The princess is probably exhausted your grace, her young mind is new to the reality of betrothal and marriage" Rhaenyra defense.

"She said she wish to marry someone, do you know who is this man?"

The people inside the room waited for her answer, she can feel cold sweats forming on her forehead, the King's Hand spoke.

"News had spread in the previous months ago your grace said that the princess Elaerys was caught visiting the quarter of the City Watch and she is often caught in the presence of the Lord Commander of City Watch" Otto announced.

"Saying such gossip and stories about my sister is treason my Lord Hand" Rhaenyra pointed out.

Otto face formed in a small sly smile. "I am only informing the King of what people inside the Keep see, some said the Lord Commander was saw leaving the princess chamber in the middle of the night-"

"Are you questioning my daughter's virtue Otto?"

The Hand stopped his sentence, shock and defeat spread on his face. "I mean no offense you grace"

"Rhaenyra I need to know who is this man?" Viserys turned his attention back to his eldest.

When Rhaenyra did not answered he spoke again. "I command you Rhaenyra, is it true that Harwin had defile your sister?"

"Sevens! No Father!"

"Then what is the truth-"

"She intends to marry Ser Gwayne!"

A loud silence occupied them, Viserys mouth half opened, the shock om Otto's face was a pure sight.

"Elaerys came to me one night, she was scared when she confessed to me that she wanted to marry Gwayne, she said she was afraid of how you will react and what you will do to them" Rhaenyra added more, her head remained high directly looking to the King.

"Gwayne Hightower he poisoned your sister's mind, he seduced her!" Viserys turned to Otto, grabbing the collar of his clothes. "Your son dare to disrespect me by breaking his vow is this the reason why he resigned and decided to go back in Oldtown?"

Otto wanted to unalive him right there, "Your grace I know nothing about this"

Rhaenyra frowned, Ser Gwayne resigned to his position?

****

Elaerys was running through the halls looking for any signs of him but she failed, she visited the quarters of Kingsguard but he was no where to be seen. When she lost her hope, she saw her sister Rhaenyra walking fast towards her.

"Elaerys, Ser Gwayne he is on his horse going back to Oldtown, he resigned to his position" she informed.

"How did you know?" Elaerys looked at her sister the smiled cheekily.

"I tell you later, for now go and find Ser Gwayne and bring him back here." Rhaenyra said before turning back against her.

Elaerys wasted no time as she mounted her dragon Silverwing, as she settle on its back they immediately flee on the sky.

Silverwing was a quick dragon, looking down the ground she searched for any sign of him, she see a few men in horseback with their Hightower sigil, she lead Silverwing towards them.

Gwayne was occupied ever since they left in King's Landing, the King was curios and uneasy when he humbly resigned his position, he had to come up with several reasons. The King even mentioned how he did well on his job.

If he only knew.

He did not want to leave King's Landing, he did not want to leave her, but resigning and leaving his position is the only proper way he could ask for her hand.

His head turned when he heard a voice calling him from behind, he stopped his horse as he saw the princess dismounting her dragon.

"Ser Gwayne" she called her out, Gwayne dismounted himself from his horse as soon as she approached him.

"Princess, what made you come here?" He said bowing his head.

Elaerys raised an eyebrow, crossing her arm as she spoke. "Where are you going?"

His head remained face on the ground, a small smile forming on his lips. "Back to Oldtown princess, the King approved my resignation"

"You are sworn to me Gwayne" Elaerys uttered, she pushed back her hair as she continue "You took a personal vow to me, and now you leaving without even informing me?"

"I see the princess wasn't too intoxicated to remember that" he smirked, he stepped closer to her facing her intense gaze. "Tell me princess, do you wish for me to stay?"

This may be greedy or selfish of him, but he wants to hear her admit it, he wants to hear her say that she wish for him to stay, to stay and be close with each other.

"Gwayne do not leave me" Elaerys was able to utter those words earning a small smile from Gwayne.

"I will come back princess, I have to leave my position in order to properly ask for your hand" he explained, as he tucked a few strands of her hair behind her ear.

He lay his forehead against hers, while he reached for her hand and pressed a kiss on her knuckles before guiding it to wrap around his neck. For a moment peace surrounded them, feeling the warmth of breathe of each other, their skins touching.

"This is how I always dreamed about you princess, leaning on each other, with your face close to me, hands intertwined" he described, his eyes dropping to her lips. He can feel the princess' pulling him closer, her lips claimed his.

Gwayne can feel his heart melt, his hands moved to cup her cheeks, this is all he could ask for.

Elaerys massage the back of his head as they kiss, her heart won't stop beating fast, when they pulled away both catching breathe. Elaerys was flustered after the kiss, she looked away from him her hand remained to where it is.

"Do not ever leave no matter in what circumstances Gwayne"

Gwayne held her chin, making her face him. "I truly haven't forgot my vow, princess" he chuckles.

Gwayne took her hand, as he kneel infront of her. "I am sworn to you Elaerys Targaryen, I will give my very last breath to no one but you, I shall offer my heart and soul to no one else but you..."

Gwayne looked up to her while he rose from his knee and place a kiss on the back of her hand.

"For I am yours princess."

*~🌼

#hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #daemon targeryan #fanfic #gwayne hightower x reader #gwayne higtower x you #gwayne hightower fanfic #gwayne x reader #gwayne hightower #house of the dragons #hotd season 2 #hotd x reader #hotd imagine #gwayne hightower imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #girlblogging #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong imagine #hotd s2

875 notes · View notes

tomriddleslovergirl · 7 months ago

Text

House of the Dragon characters with a s/o that hates Targaryens

Warnings: Yandere behavior, violating boundaries, mentions of bullying

Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen:

Daemon and Rhaenyra take great pride in their Valyrian roots, so they get considerably annoyed whenever you complain about Targaryens and their traditions (Daemon more so).

Though they understand why, they will still try to get you to fall in love with their Targaryen heritage and traditions.

Rhaenyra and Daemon will take you on dragon rides, read you stories about their ancestors, and Daemon may sing to you in Valyrian. Though Daemon will only get to hum a song to you on days you are considerably more tired and can’t bring yourself to argue with them.

If you still continue to reject them, they’ll just have to take full control of the situation and disregard your wants.

They’ll send a letter to your mother and father, saying that they want your hand in marriage, and what fool would reject such a proposal from the Queen and Prince Consort?

Aegon Targaryen:

Aegon enjoys the luxuries that come with being a Targaryen prince, but he hates a few of the things that come with it; like the expectations, and being forced to marry Helaena.

Many other Lords and Ladies have tried getting on his “good” side because of his status, but not you. You avoid him whenever he is near, and have told him (as nicely as you possibly could) that you’re not a fan of him or his family.

Aegon finds this much too entertaining, and will try to seduce you into forgetting your “vow” of never getting into a relationship with a Targaryen.

Aemond Targaryen:

Aemond is desperate to be accepted by you. Though he is a Targaryen, you have never failed to show him respect even though you are not a fan of his family.

Other people have made fun of him for not claiming a dragon, or for only having one eye, but you haven’t.

Though Aemond won’t give up his full interest in his Targaryen ancestry, he will tone it down when around you, and will hope that would be enough for him to be an exception for your hate for Targaryens.

Aemond can’t change the fact that he's a Targaryen, just like how he can’t change the fact he has one eye, but he hopes you will love him like you would any other man.

A/N: this was requested but I accidently deleted the ask😭😭

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x y/n #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x y/n #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x y/n #Rhaenyra targaryen #daemyra x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd x y/n #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader

695 notes · View notes

jamespotterismydaddy · 1 year ago

Text

Lord Husband (Chapter 1)

Cregan x reader

A/N: this is just gonna be a miniseries methinks

word count: 1,171

Next chapter

Series Masterlist

“You look like an angel, my love.” Rhaenyra says as the handmaidens pin back your hair but you don’t feel like an angel; you feel like a pawn.

You have been meeting with suitors for nearly four moons and none have seemed to be good enough for you. Lannisters are too proud, Tullys bore you, and you can’t stand a single person with the name Baratheon. Your mother said that she was showing you a great kindness in allowing you to choose, a kindness that she didn’t appreciate enough when the young queen had the chance. You don’t care. You know you are just like she was when she was younger. You often wear that with pride but you know what it means in this scenario. You’re ‘too stubborn to appreciate what has been given to you’. Rhaenyra gave you the opportunity but she was no longer patient. A husband had to be chosen.

“Winterfell is very far.” Is all you say in response.

“Lord Stark is a good man. I would not have chosen him for you if I wasn’t sure of it.” She presses a kiss to the side of your head. “Just walk through the gardens with him. Get to know the man who will be your husband.” She pets your hair in a loving manner. You can’t seem to understand that she would only have the best for you, her only daughter.

You have yet to meet Cregan Stark but you already hate him, your betrothed, the man who will whisk you away from your family to the cold North. You resent the freedoms he is taking from you. You resent being separated from your family. You resent everything about him.

“He will treat you well, sweet girl. I know it.” You stand up now, wrapped in a silk gown and decorated with jewellery like a lovely little present for him. When you get to the gardens, he is already waiting for you with a blinding smile on his face. You have to admit that he is incredibly handsome. He is tall and his physique looks strong from years of training with the sword. A real Northern man.

“Princess, it is my pleasure to meet you. Our engagement brings great honour to my house.” He walks over to stand in front of you and you let him take your hand up for a kiss, fighting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Lord Stark.” Your voice is cold which seems to surprise him ever so slightly. You don’t give him a chance to say much else as you begin to walk through the gardens, leaving him in your dust. He looks at you in a bit of a stupor before quickly following after his pretty betrothed.

“Would you like to take my arm, princess?” He politely offers his right arm to you. How proper.

“No.” You say simply as he speeds up a bit to stay in step with you.

“No?” He looks a little confused but chalks it up to teenage girls being a little strange. You give him no other response so he makes another attempt at conversation. “Have you ever visited Winterfell?”

“No.” He awaits to hear a sentiment of your excitement to see it soon but is disappointed when none comes.

“I am sure you will love it. It’s beautiful when there's a fresh dusting of snow on the ground. I’d say it’s the greatest place in all of Westeros but I suppose i’m biased.” He grins, mostly to himself, and then looks at you, hopeful for more of a response.

“Hmm.” Is all you offer as a reply. Cregan finds himself dejected at his future wife’s lack of interest and he tries his best to shake it off.

“It does get cold of course but you’ll be more than warm enough in the castle. Most actually find it very cozy.” He gives you another smile that likely has most women melting in a puddle at his feet. For some reason it just irritates you more.

“Dragons don’t do well in the cold.” Your curt reply makes him cringe. He can’t understand what has given you such a sense of distaste towards him. Things are silent for a moment. He has no idea how to respond directly to your comment.

“Do you have any hobbies?” Another attempt it seems. The question makes you sigh. What a boring change of subject.

“We don’t really need to speak.” You shock him with your words, with your bratty attitude. He’d expected you to be entitled but he didn’t expect you to be outright rude. He is a lord after all, the Warden of the North. He deserves some sense of courtesy from you.

“That is going to be difficult seeing as how we are to be wed.” He scoffs and you begin to fiddle with the rings that decorate your fingers.

“The only thing you need from me in this marriage is to fill my belly with your heirs.” You say. You know it’s harsh but it isn’t necessarily untrue. He seems to be taken aback slightly by your words.

“You don’t wish to get to know the man you’re going to marry?” He asks in disbelief. He seems like a romantic. You didn’t think people of nobility were allowed to be romantics. Though, simply knowing your husband better is a sad definition of romanticism.

“You ask many questions.” You roll your eyes and he does his best to hold his tongue and not say something stupid.

“And you answer practically none, princess.” There was a bit of bite in his words. He clearly believes that you’re acting like a spoilt child.

Awkward silence fills the space between you both. You wonder if he may apologise to you and he earns a bit more of your respect because he doesn’t. It’s quiet for quite some time and you try to walk faster so that you may get to the end of the gardens before he tries to make conversation again. He never does and it isn’t long before the promenade comes to an untimely finish.

“Good day to you, my lord.” Poor Lord Stark looks like he’s rethinking all of his life choices when you say the words to him. What an ill fate for the man, marrying a cold Targaryen princess.

“To you as well, princess.” You don’t lift your hand up for him to kiss again and based on the fact that he looks like a kicked puppy, you know that he wanted to.

You leave quickly. You did your duty… technically. Your mother asked you to walk through the gardens with him and you did. Mayhaps you simply forgot about the getting to know him part. You wonder if he will retract his proposal, but who would ever retract a proposal to a princess? Maybe you’re delaying the inevitable, maybe you’re just full of old fashioned Targaryen spite but you have no wish to create a relationship with the man you’re meant to marry.

taglist(comment to be added): @valeskafics @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies

#lord husband #cregan stark #cregan x reader #cregan x you #cregan stark x reader #cregan fic #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd fic

2K notes · View notes

witchofhimring · 2 months ago

Text

Being the daughter of Daemon Targaryen

Daemon x reader (platonic)

I will split this into four different parts depending on who the mother is (Laena, Rhae, Mysaria, Rhaenyra)

Your relationship with Daemon really depends on who your mother is. Although I think he would love his daughter regardless of who the mother is, your relationship will still differ depending on who she is.

Mysaria:

- As his first born you hold a special place in his heart. Daemon keeps you in a mansion with your mother. Despite your bastardy he still has you educated. And anyway, he planned to have you legitimated in time. Unlike with his other wives (except Rhea) there will be a battle between your parents on who has the most influence. Daemon will bring you up to be a true Valyrian. But Mysaria does not agree with everything he does and do the two will argue.

- ‘I will not have my daughter riding those beasts.’ Mysaria stood over Daemon. Although she was not ignorant as to the threat he could pose, Mysaria felt very strongly about her daughter riding a dragon. She had always been a careful woman. Ever since she was a little girl who endured her father’s abuse Mysaria had known how to survive. And when her daughter was born she swore you too would be safe. That meant, for Mysaria; No. Fucking. Dragon. Daemon sat hunched in his chair. He was tired but equally determined. ‘She is a Valyrian. Whatever the circumstances of her birth are.’ Standing in the doorway you watched nervously. You hated listening to your parents fight. Quietly, you slunk into the darkness.

- Unfortunately this will result in Daemon taking you from Mysaria once their relationship is over. This causes a lot of tension and your relationship with him will change. It is hard being away from your mother for so long. Daemon takes you with him wherever he goes. He will try to be more stationary for your benefit. And the word is "try". Life is both tough and fun. Constantly moving around made it hard to make long lasting friends. But Daemon will do fun things such as going to the market, dragon riding and buying items for any hobby you are into. Mysaria finds secret ways to contact you without Daemon's knowledge. You sort of lead a double life with both parents.

-Your mother's most recent letter was quickly slid under the pillow as your bedroom door opened. Your father stepped in holding a wooden box. Curiously you asked what was in the box. Daemon opened it and inside you found cloth and sewing needles. With a smile you took it and went through the materials. Daemon had a small smile on his face as his daughter rummaged through everything. He did not really understand your love of sewing but he was happy to provide the materials.

-You do get a dragon. Daemon lobbies hard for you to have a dragon and for a while Viserys says no. Not because he doesn't think you deserve one but because of your status (this is before you are legitimated). This changes when Rhaenyra had her first born and Daemon will snidely make remarks when Viserys brings up your bastardy. Eventually Viserys relents. Your dragon is called Saephrin, a thin green scaled creature who is called the Sky Snake. He is very fast an nimble. You spent a lot of time in the cave and riding Saephrin. Daemon likes to ride beside you on nice day. The dragons do keep some distance between each other since Caraxes can get a bit snappy around the younger dragon. These outings usually end in picnics and going to far off places.

-Higher and into the sky you climbed. Wind whistled past your ears, wind whipping hair around. Just behind you was Daemon on Caraxes. Above the clouds you flew looking at the ground bellow. The house you lived in had become a simple blip on the ground. The ache in your thighs felt good. Riding on dragon back brought you more satisfaction than anything else. Showing off you father burst up from a sea of clouds, sending white mist everywhere. Despite your vision being temporarily obscured you were not scared. Daemon was an expert dragon rider, you were in no danger. Your dragon let out a wiry cry and you dove. Leaning back you could see the ground bellow you coming nearer. You looked up to find Daemon still circling above. Saephrin then extended his wings and you were shot back into the air. With a whoop of laughter you went to meet him in the sky.

Rhea:

-Daemon would not allow Rhea to raise you. Despite him belief in Valyrian supremacy you are still a Targaryen. He will use his position as a prince to limit contact between Rhea and yourself. This leads to some tension between Daemon and Viserys, who feels your place is in Runestone. In this scenario Daemon is in Runestone more often. There is a back and forth between who has more influence. Daemon will try to distance you from Andal influences and Rhea vise vera. This leaves you feeling constantly torn.

-Their voices echoed down the hall to where you sat alone. By all rights you should be in bed already. If anyone were to find you out there would be trouble. One would think that years of this would harden you to your parents constant fights. 'My daughter will not be taking part in your filthy Valyrian traditions! I am only glad that she has no brother for you to force her to fuck.' You could almost see your fathers reaction in your mind. There was the sound of a physical altercation and you buried yourself deeper into the shadows. You were not sure when the fight ended. Only that your father slunk through the hall and you hardly dared to breath as he walked past. Once you were sure both parents were gone you wandered the halls.

-A dragon egg is given to you by Daemon upon birth. The pearl coloured egg hatches and a light pink dragon is born, named Willow. You grew close to the dragon and liked to bring her into your playroom. Whenever she was separated from you a tantrum resumed on both ends. You could not live without Willow. Your father would becomes a less present figure om your life. For a while life grew slightly easier. At least no parents were fighting. And so a quiet existence descended. Your mother taught you to hunt and command a falcon. By her hand you sat at council meetings. One day you would become Lady of Runestone and command these people. Unlike many other women, even high born ones, you would be permitted to wield power without the say so of a man. When your mother died Daemon came back for you. He tried to take you from Runestone but the lords protested. Swallowing his rage, Daemon would fly between his residences and Runestone. He was more involved now. because of your position Daemon would teach you battle strategy and swordplay. Daemon was determined to make you a proper ruling lady.

-'Block!' Daemon's sword came down from ahead and you only just blocked it. He did not relent with each blow, causing witnesses to shoot mistrusting looks. While Daemon was not being gentle there was a method to this. The world was not kind to women especially women who took the places men more often occupied. You must become strong enough to defend your own. And Daemon had a feeling war was not too far off. Daemon felt Rhea had been a poor teacher. He would not have some docile Andal lily for a daughter. Gods damn it you were a Targaryen. Each strike was used to test your ability. Eventually the sword was knocked aside. 'Dead.' Daemon pointed the sword to your chest. The he heaved you to your feet. 'Good.' Daemon was not one to hand out compliments. But you had done very well and made much progress. You gave him a small smile.

-Once you are older Daemon will have you visit him on Dragonstone. You never knew your first step mother Laena as you were too young to fly to Pentos on dragon back. But by the time he married Rhaenyra you were older and Dragonstone was closer. You would fly in on Willow and spend time with your father and the new editions. Your relationship with Rhaenyra is alright. She had always wanted a daughter but she remembers you are the daughter of Rhea and that always unsettles Rhaenyra. You like Baela and Rhaena well enough. Daemon is happy when you arrive. Even if he has a hard time showing it. As the eldest you are given the most responsibility. He has you informed of the comings and goings of political situation, and you help the Blacks keep ties with house Arryn. He places a lot of trust in you.

-You had come in late that night on Willow. Inwardly groaning with exhaustion you climbed off the dragon and staggered towards the castle. Your father was there to greet you. Nodding in acknowledgment Daemon turned and beckoned you inside. This might have been considered cold for a father, but from Daemon this was "warm", in his way. You followed him inside and he allowed you to quickly wipe down, change and eat. By the fire both of you sat till Daemon deemed you settled in enough. 'How are you unruly men?' He had never taken to the people of Runestone. 'They are just fine father.' You did not like your father talking like this. It made you feel unfaithful to those you lead. 'Good, and the Arryns?' He said this with less skepticism. 'I think if it comes to war they will side with us. Lady Jeyne Arryn was no love for Otto Hightower or his ilk.' 'Good.' He grunted. For a while the pair of you talked of these things until Daemon sent you to bed. As you got up he patted you on you shoulder. 'You've done well.'

Laena:

-You are born a year after Baela and Rhaena in Pentos. At the time Laena and Daemon were traveling Essos so you did not have a permeant home. Despite not living in Westeros at the time you were still a Targaryen, one of only a few. There were already discussions about your future. Daemon preferred for his family to remain in Westeros, perhaps you could marry a Pentoshi prince. Laena on the other hand would rather you marry into Westerosi aristocracy. You, along with your two sisters are brought up to be noblewomen like your mother. On the other hand Daemon is interested in teaching Valyrian ancestry and swordplay. His interest will hinge on how much you are like him. This does not mean Daemon does not love his children. But he does show more interest in his children who are dragon riders. Daemon is largely unaware of the effect it had on his children (i.e. Rhaena). Like your sisters you will get a dragon egg. It eventually hatches, but it takes a while.

-Daemon did not normally feel uncomfortable, especially around his own children. Last week his youngest daughter's dragon had hatched, a small grey think with spikey scales running up its neck. He had been undeniably proud of his daughter. Three years had passed since his now ten year old daughter had received her egg as name-day present from Viserys. Daemon had lost hope that her dragon would hatch. he would check if the two dragon eggs resting in the fireplace had hatched. Now only Rhaena's egg rested there. Y/n was sitting alone by the see with Kaeros on her lap. One day that dragon not be small like a kitten, but larger than any one of them. Daemon took a seat beside her. 'Your dragon hatched.' He felt foolish for posing such a silly question. Y/n would be a dragon rider and carry out the Targaryen traditions. Y/n shrugged her shoulders but said nothing. For a while they awkwardly sat beside one another till Y/n headed in.

-After Laena's death the family headed back to Westeros. Daemon married Rhaenyra and Dragonstone became home. It was very different from the warmth and vibrancy of Pentos. During this time Daemon and you became closer, although some distance remained. Because you were a little older the subject of marriage became prevalent. Daemon is very picky about who your future husband will be, only a Valyrian will be accepted. When your half brothers are born you become closer to Daemon. Sometimes the two of you will play with the children in their nursery.

-Baby Aegon totted on his legs towards you .A few spaces away at your father, newborn Viserys on his lap. 'The babies are staying with us, right?' Daemon looked up from his youngest. 'Of course.' 'Oh. I just thought that you might send them to be fostered with their future betrotheds family.' Daemon looked at you confused. 'What gave you that impression?' Shrugging, you replied; 'Just what your doing with me.' Daemon only looked more bewildered. 'I...we have no intentions sending you away.' Daemon had no idea why you had this idea. What he did not understand was the empty pit widening in your soul. This feeling of loneliness that threatened to devour you. All your life you had felt like an extension of the Targaryen name. You did not realize how deeply your father loved you. While the gap had somewhat lessened over time there were still things left unsaid. Then Daemon, for reasons you did not know, he set Viserys in his crib and got up. In a moment he was by your side. In an unexpected motion Daemon brought you into a hug. Not merely one in greeting or goodbye, but along, warm one. Gently you rested your head on his shoulder.

-As war broke over Westeros the dynamic between Daemon and yourself changed. You were his youngest daughter, too young to fight. He may have pride but even Daemon balked at the idea of sending his youngest, untested daughter into war. In the past few years your relationship improved greatly. The two of you had grown closer. But was would rip the two of you apart, forever.

-It was already unsettling enough to send Baela out to war, and have Rhaena so far away. You were to remain at Dragonstone. Not completely out of loop but not at the front like Baela. It made you taste bitterness. Why could he not see you were ready! Now was the time you should be tested. Your father had gone on and on about Targaryen pride. But here you were as cupbearer. Of course he preferred Baela to you, to Rhaena. As your father got ready to take Harrenhal you were hiding by a window, too angry to speak. At these moments you felt no more than a sulky child. 'Y/n.' Startled, you got up to see your father, fully plated in armor, coming forward. 'I'm heading out.' 'I know.' You replied. Standing there you did not know whether to say goodbye. Silently you feared for him. War was an ugly thing. 'I will send for you when the time comes.' This surprised you. 'Really?' Daemon let the ghost of a smile come across his lips. 'You are my daughter. A Targaryen. You belong with us.' Tears welled up in your eyes. Deep down you think; 'One day I will tell father I love him.' This was the last time you would see your father.

Rhaenyra: (au where Rhaenyra wins the war, Visenya survives and is your older sister)

-Daemon felt rather old when you came into the world. You had been born well after they thought Rhaenyra past childbirth. He was not sure how he felt about this newest edition. Having another child was no bad thing, but he just felt too hold. Although Daemon was still in good health he was no longer a young man. His joints had started to ache from long years of battle. This did mean he spent lots of time with you. He watched his youngest roll around in her cradle. There was some joy to be found in reading to you. This continued as you grew, learning stories of your family and Old Valyria. Soehow this gave Daemon some peace, and the pair of you grew close.

-Daemon was no stranger to fatherhood. As a father of three girls and two boys (not including Rhaenyra's children) this new baby was no surprise. What had struck Daemon was how very old he was. Now in his fifties Daemon found it a bit astounding to be this old and a father. If fact Daemon never though he would reach such an age. Men as reckless as the King Consort rarely lived to see such an age. Yet here we was, older and with knees that already started to ache. In the cradle was his youngest and likely last child. Y/n was fast asleep, wrapped up in a blanket. Daemon was not a sort man, and perhaps not the warmest father. But he did love his children. One finger reached in and the baby's hand shot out. With all her little might Y/n grasped him. her wide eyes met his and she gave him a toothless grin. Something warm stirred in daemon's head. "I'm becoming a sort old fool.' Daemon thought.

-Daemon read by the fire as you dozed off in bed. This was your favourite part of the day. When night had fallen and you listened to his soft voice lull you to sleep. Tonight he read of Queen Rhaenys, second wife to King Aegon. Even though your mother and sister preferred Queen Visenya you always admired Rhaenys's love for the arts. Out of all her siblings Rhaenys loved her dragon Meraxes best. You had named your own dragon after hers. Mother has tried to talk you out of it but to no avail. Your father continued to read stories of Targaryens long gone.

-'This one." You demanded. It was the end of the day and Daemon had come up to read. Already you were in bed with a book one your lap. Daemon was pleased to see it was about House Targaryens, the best house in all the realm (totally not a biased opinion). Sitting down Daemon picked up the book and flipped to chapter one. 'Not there.' You passed several chapters until landing on the one titled "Queen Rhaenys". Aegon the Conqueror's second wife had never truly captured his attention, not that he had anything against her. But you were his little girl and Daemon was more willing to capitulate in his older ager.

-Despite his advanced age Daemon will expect you to be well educated. The best teachers will be found. You will learn history, Valyrian, astronomy, philosophy, writing and much more. He sees no reason for you being female as a reason a child of his should not be well read. You share classes with Visenya and sometimes Viserys and Aegon. Sometimes Daemon will ask you to show him what you have learned. His interests mainly lye in Valyrian history so he will ask you to show him what it is you have learned. When all his daily duties are finished Daemon will sometimes listen to you talk about everything you have read that day. Even if it is not things he is particularly interested in. As he gets older Daemon becomes more sentimental and focuses more on his family.

-A quiet afternoon was upon Kings Landing. Daemon had just gotten out of a long meeting and was glad for it. he was sore all over from sitting so long and walked, alone, to take the edge off. His walking did have an aim. Y/n, his youngest, would be out of the schoolroom by now. Loneliness was not a feeling Daemon was well acquainted with. But with Rhaenyra gone to the North and Visenya being a ward of House Baratheon, Daemon found himself lacking family members. Jacaerys and Baela had gone on tour in the West, Rhaena gone to see her Arryn friends. The other children were being wards elsewhere. daemon finally arrived outside the schoolroom. he remembered days when he and Viserys were sometimes tutored here. Just as he arrived Y/n burst out. 'Daddy!' Y/n gave her father a great hug. Daemon ruffled her messy hair before inquiring what she had learned today. As she chattered away they found themselves in the courtyard. Under the Weirwood they sat together. Sunlight beat down upon them, Daemon finally relaxed.

#daemon targaryen #daemon x reader #daughter reader #hotd #house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader #hotd x reader imagine #hotd imagine #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon

339 notes · View notes

shesjustanothergeek · 4 months ago

Text

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Six: Salt and Blood

Masterlist of Series

Summary: The older twin of Prince Jacaerys Velaryon, you were a picture of the maiden, untouched and untainted by man's sins. At least, that was what Alicent Hightower believed when she held you in her arms moments after her old friend's labors. You were her shining light, her dream. Though you were never hers, she believed you were meant to be.

What will become of you as time passes and the Queen's shining light grows within the blackened darkness? Will her eldest son's morbid fascination with the light burn the realm? Or will her second son's obsession with the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen change the course of the Seven Kingdoms as we know it?

Author's Note: Alright, everyone. This is the last time you'll see baby Aemond and the reader, so let's cherish it. In the next chapter, we will start where the show did with the characters aged up in Ep. 8. I'm very excited to write for adult MC. I'm not going to lie; I'm a bit worried about writing Aemond's inner dialogue, as I've never written for a male character who isn't obsessed with the reader, but I'm sure I'll do fine. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Chapter Warnings: Alicent being delulu, parentified sibling trauma, and watch me make you feel even worse about Driftmark.

As you journeyed from the gloomy corridors of the Red Keep to the sulfuric atmosphere of Dragonstone and now to the sandy shores and scattered shells of Driftmark, an air of sadness seemed to cling to you wherever you went. You stood at the edge of a cliff, gazing down at the tranquil sea, overlooking the stone coffin that cradled your late Aunt Laena. Two deaths, each carrying its weight of sorrow, yet only one mourned.

You wondered what it would be like to die choked in flames like Ser Harwin and Lyonel Strong did. Would it be the same as suffering dragon fire like your Aunt? Most likely not. Hers was a swift burning of flesh from bones, while theirs was hours of agony and suffocation.

Despite what your family claimed, the idea of dying to your own dragon’s flames wasn’t an appealing end to you. It didn’t seem noble like how stories explained it to be. It was horrifying to have your skin torched from your body, to feel the power of a thousand suns on your flesh. It would be excruciatingly painful, and you wished it upon no one, not even those you despised most. You would much rather meet the Stranger in your sleep.

You barely settled into your new home on Dragonstone before your mother received the two ravens. One bringing news of Ser Harwin and the other of Laena, containing death in the ink. You consoled your mother and father as best you could, hugging and kissing and telling them that you loved them and were sorry. It was an impossible task to do, but you couldn’t help yourself. You hated seeing them so distraught and wanted to make them feel better.

At night, you cried into your pillows in your now isolated bedroom until Jace and Luke entered, watery eyes matching yours. As the eldest, it was your job to hold your family together when your parents couldn’t, and it left you no time to properly grieve the loss of an Aunt and a father figure.

You felt terrible for your cousins Baela and Rhaena. To go to bed one night and wake up the next without a mother was a depth of grief you couldn’t imagine. You didn’t think you could live a life without your mother; you would die with her, and the ability of your cousins to continue without her was admirable as you observed their sullen faces streaked with tears.

Your Great Uncle Vaemond spoke his sermon in High Valyrian, which was too fast and practiced for you to understand. You could decipher some words here and there, but ultimately, you were lost listening to a man you rarely met. You felt your mother straighten her stance from behind, her arms coming to circle the three of you in a protective embrace.

Vaemond’s eyes were on yours, Luke’s, and Jace’s, but everyone else was focused on him—on the coffin with Lady Laena’s face carved into it.

As your eyes wandered to the other people surrounding the funeral procession, fear struck you as you caught your eldest uncle’s eye. It wasn’t very comforting to see Aegon so soon. You had set it in your mind that you wouldn’t have to see him for many years, and yet, here you were, dressed in an obsidian and red-sleeved gown, pearls adorning the collar and your veiled headpiece. Quickly, you turned away, instinctually taking Jace’s hand in yours.

An air of stiffness surrounded your family that you weren’t blind to. It was always there, but now, more than before, you felt it. You thought it was childish to be so locked into familial drama when someone lay dead inside a casket. Though you didn’t remember much of the times you met your Aunt Laena, she still deserved the respect of putting these grievances aside. You knew you were part of it, but more important things were happening than what you suffered.

The cries of your father sent waves of sadness into your heart, and with the sudden urge to get him to stop, you left the safety of your brother and clung to your father’s waist. He lifted you into his sea-worn arms and clung to your frail body as if it was the only thing that kept him from sinking into his grief. You rested your temple onto his shoulder, tears of empathy falling from your eyes as he pressed your head closer.

Afraid of what would become of your father if you let go, you allowed him to crush you in his embrace for as long as he needed it as a scornful laugh broke through the tense atmosphere. You peeked from your position to see Great Uncle Daemon chuckling to himself with a shake of his head at what Vaemond said. You felt annoyance bubble inside you, solidifying your distaste for the man as the Velaryon guards clad in silver armor and blue seahorse sigils lifted the ropes and lowered your Aunt into the roaring sea.

You didn’t leave your father’s side for the remainder of the day, not even when he slowly lowered himself into the sea with his sister as the cold, salty breeze swept through the evening. You wanted to speak with Aemond, if just for a small moment, but your family came first. They always came before anyone else, a fact that your mother instilled into the very fabric of your being.

Sitting atop one of the rock ledges near your father, you dipped your feet into the saltwater, dragging your toes to watch the water ripple and allow time to pass. It didn’t feel right to leave him alone. The image of him falling into the ocean as your Aunt played repeatedly in your mind’s eye. You were afraid in his grief, he would follow her. Only when your father’s squire, Ser Qarl, took your father from his place with his sister did you leave, joining the rest of the goers for the wake late in the evening.

Searching through the crowd of people for your mother and your brothers, you couldn’t find them. Alone with none of your family for protection, you felt fear pull at your chest. Your hands began to scratch at your arms and scalp, attempting to quell the insatiable itch. The fabric prevented you from doing so, and tears of fright soon began to collect at your lashes.

From across the balcony, you saw a flash of green, a color that had never offered you comfort until now. Yet as quickly as you saw it, it vanished, leaving only a head of white promptly running down the stairs. You felt your heart drop into your feet as you watched Aemond run across the sandy dunes like he was running from you.

The call of a dragon you never heard before screeched through the gray skies. It was mournful as if it were calling for a lost pet or child. In this case, it was a rider. As you looked up, you could see the vast shadow of Vhagar’s silhouette soaring through the clouds, flying in the same direction your uncle went. You felt your eyes grow wide with worry at the realization, wanting to chase after Aemond and warn him.

“Let’s get you to bed,” a tender, feminine voice came from behind you as you jolted in surprise. The tall figure of Queen Alicent stood before you, curly auburn hair pinned back into a magnificent updo and clad in her usual green and gold as she put a hand on your back. “Your mother already sent your brothers.”

“Where is she?” you hastily asked. Aemond was no longer on your mind.

“I’m uncertain. Your father is off drowning his sorrow in his cups with his squire,” she answered in the same velvet voice you remembered her having, bitterness you didn’t understand laced in the undertone.

You felt offended by how the Queen spoke about your father. He was grieving. He was allowed to spend time with whomever he wished, doing what he wanted.

Alicent lifted her arm, wrapping it around your petite frame, and led you inside Hightide. It was not as cold or formidable as Dragonstone; its dark magic melted into the walls, yet it didn’t hold the warmth of the Red Keep. Still, you felt unwelcomed here, either by the place or its people. The pale stone walls were filled with bits and pieces of shells from clams, mollusks, and other long-dead shell creatures mixed into the mortar to make it stand the test of salty air.

The Hall of the Nine, where you passed as Queen Alicent, led you to the guest chambers, where you held the Driftwood throne where your grandfather Corlys reigned. You recalled when you visited this place many years ago and how he went on about the many treasures from his sieges and conquests that decorated the room in all its glory. He and his wife, Rhaenys, sat in a heated discussion in front of the hearth.

Once you reached the door to your shared bed chambers with your brothers, Alicent turned to you. It was the first time you had seen her since what Aegon had done to you, and you felt tension. It seemed as if she wanted to speak, to say everything that had been bottled up since the revelation of her son’s transgressions, but she was unable to do so as tears choked her. Instead, the only words that came out were those she couldn’t say to her children.

“I hope you can find the time to visit the Keep. Helaena asked when you would be returning, and it broke my heart to tell her you wouldn’t be,” she confided, stroking the thin black fabric covering your dark hair. “Aemond has turned inwards since you left, and Aegon has become crueler to him. It makes me wonder if he’s always been this way and that my love for him has blinded me from his transgressions.”

You said nothing. The mention of Aegon’s name still felt like a blow to the stomach. “I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive my son for what he did to you and that we may yet be the family we were always meant to be.” Your tongue felt like lead as your breathing began to race, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace as Alicent kneeled before you, a sad smile on her supple lips as she tenderly swiped your tear-stained cheeks with her smooth thumbs.

“I love you, my shining light, my dream.”

Leaning in, she took your small frame by your shoulders, kissing your forehead as one would do to their babe. You felt sick, nausea churning in your stomach as you quickly opened the bedroom door, hastily shutting it behind you in fright.

It was all too much—Lady Laena’s death, Ser Harwin’s, seeing your father in shambles, and Queen Alicent’s steadfast belief that you should become a part of her family no matter what happened to you. The Queen desired to wed you and Aegon despite the horrors he committed. The realization that she genuinely didn’t see what your eldest uncle did to you as something that would permanently bar you from joining the union pierced your heart. You would much rather marry Aemond or Helaena, but having no ties to her seemed better.

Your brothers peered at you curiously from their beds as you clutched your chest, looking as if you ran the entire way here. They didn’t ask any questions, and you didn’t move to speak, loosening the ties of your gown and shrugging it off until you were only in your smock. You didn’t feel like changing into your nightdress in front of your brothers, deciding to climb into bed and shove your face into the pillows, refusing to cry in front of Jace and Luke as you fell into a dreamless sleep.

When Aemond learned of Lady Laena’s death, he knew it was a sign from the Gods that his time had come. The Seven had deemed this the moment to prove himself to everyone who doubted him and thought him useless without a dragon.

Vhagar.

The largest, oldest, and strongest dragon in the world was riderless.

Aemond believed that once he gained the only thing he lacked, life would finally be what it should have been. He would make his father proud, shove all the taunts and jests from Aegon and his nephews back into their faces, and finally become a man you deemed worthy—your Mors Martell.

As Aemond fled from the wake when the candles had long melted, he thought only of the ichor coursing through his veins. Dusk was upon the island, and the night’s wind blew harshly, strands of his silver-blonde hair covering his face as he climbed over the dunes. Vhagar was further from the castle than he initially thought.

“Fuck.” Aemond released a sigh of exasperation and scrambled across the uneven ground.

When he came upon the dragon, he was in awe. Vhagar was as frightening as she was enormous—a giant, green-scaled, moving mountain that shook the ground and blew sand with every movement and breath from her powerful lungs.

Taking advantage of Vhagar’s resting state, Aemond crept along the sparse grass, feeling each gust of air she created with her wide nostrils, blowing the sand into his face and ears. Anxiety was present in his gut, feeling a slight tremble in his limbs as he closed the distance, wrapping his hand around one of the many ropes draped across Vhagar’s scales. Suddenly, he felt the ground underneath him quake, and the head of the dragon lifted with a low rumble.

Vhagar observed Aemond with tired yet calculating amber orbs, double eyelids blinking. She grumbled as she bore her teeth to him. They were the size of a fully grown adult, sending a shiver down his spine. As if it were an act of divine intervention, Vhagar laid her enormous head back down, seeming disinterested in the young boy before her.

If Lady Laena’s death wasn’t proof enough Aemond was fated by the Gods to claim a dragon, the most powerful beast in the world, laying its head in acquiescence certainly was. Blinded by his small victory, nerves still in his mind, he reached for the rope ladder again, only for Vhagar to raise her head and growl, low and deep. A snarl formed on her great maw as Aemond stumbled back in shock and saw the light of orange flames gather at the back of her throat.

“Dohaerās!” (Serve!) he shouted instinctively, recalling the many lessons he observed in the Dragonpit as he felt the heat of fire on his countenance. “Dohaerās, Vagus! Lykirī!” (Serve, Vhagar! Be calm!)

With Aemond’s commands, the she-dragon relaxed, recalling her flames and closing her mouth. She purred to him like a cat, a sign that she approved his merit while standing in the face of death. Vhagar would allow the Prince an attempt to claim her, but he must prove himself before the eyes of the Gods, before the eyes of a dragon.

Aemond took the ropes and climbed atop the mighty Vhagar’s back, positioning himself in the saddle and grabbing the reigns.

“Sōvēs!” (Fly!) Aemond ordered, and Vhagar rumbled, raising her legs and shaking the sand from her scales. “Sōvēs!”

She obeyed, taking a few giant steps and flapping her great wings, pushing off from the ground and leaving a sandstorm in her wake. Though Aemond told Vhagar to fly, he still had yet to control her as she took to the night sky in a near-vertical position, catching him unaware. The force knocked him from the leather saddle, leaving him dangling in the air with just the reigns for purchase. Aemond screamed with fear, feeling as if his stomach lurched out of his body as he struggled against the whipping wind to regain control.

She tested him as he grabbed the pommel, sat upright, and pulled the ropes to balance her. He felt like he was on a bucking horse, loosening, tightening, twisting, and turning to the left and right to steer her safely. Vhagar ignored Aemond’s movements and continued to fly like he wasn’t there, diving into the dunes of Driftmark before he reared her upwards, dragging her claws across the sand. He squealed in terror, blocking the debris that scratched his face as she soared over the sea.

Aemond knew he needed to prove himself to her, to show the war-hardened dragon that he deserved to ride her. Her chirps and groans from the day earlier called to him like nothing before, singing to the Prince in her dragon song of forlornness and isolation. Perhaps that was why he felt compelled to claim her. They both shared that feeling of loneliness deep within their souls, that same oddness in their families. The dragoness was too large to be held within any structure, leaving her in forced solitude, her only companions being her rider. Aemond was the only one, despite his Valyrian features, not to have a dragon.

That would no longer be his story.

Aemond fortified his mind and will, putting his soul into his movements as he lifted Vhagar higher in the sky. He could feel the blood of Old Valyria coursing through his veins as the mighty dragon obeyed, leveling out her vast wings and soaring over Spicetown and back to Driftmark. He screamed with fear and joy as she flew with him in the skies, a bright smile he was sure you could see in Lannisport.

Aemond had proven himself. He had shown himself and all who doubted and bullied him for not having a dragon that he was capable, that he was worthy.

Everything was as it should be.

Perhaps you would allow him to kiss you again and spend the night in his embrace. Aemond had no doubt you would be proud of him as he listened to your assurances that he was brave, a dragon knight who you could trust with your secrets and protect you from enemies, and that he deserved your heart.

Aemond landed Vhagar with a grace he hadn’t possessed before, climbing down the rope ladder on her side with windburnt cheeks. As soon as his feet touched the sand, he ran straight to the underground caverns of High Tide to wake you and explain everything.

“Jace!”

You faintly heard a voice calling, sounding distant in your dream state. Ignoring it with a groan, you rolled over, trying to return to sleep.

“Jace, wake up! Someone stole Vhagar!”

This woke you from your sleep. You sat up to see Baela and Rhaena hovering over your brother’s bed.

“We need to stop them!”

Jace and Luke quickly threw the covers off and stuck their feet into their slippers as you observed them curiously. Rubbing the sleep from your face, you yawned, begrudgingly following them.

“You cannot steal a dragon,” you countered after a long silence in the pale stone halls, your voice laced with sleep. It felt like you had hardly gotten a wink.

“She is my mother’s dragon! I was supposed to claim her,” Rhaena countered, tears collecting in her dark eyes.

Yawning again as you followed a few paces behind your siblings and cousins, you rolled your eyes, wanting to bite with the remark, “Why didn’t you?” But you didn’t say it. The reason was apparent why she didn’t, and Rhaena didn’t need any more reason to be distraught.

They led you to the caverns of High Tide, stumbling in your sleepless state. They led to the beaches lit only by dim torchlight, your movements groggy and slightly annoyed. On the other end of the tunnel, Aemond appeared before you with a proud grin and windswept hair. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression, a contagious self-satisfaction that spread to you.

He needn’t say it aloud. You could tell by how he carried himself, shoulders back, chin high, and a slight lift to his cheeks, that your uncle claimed a dragon—the mightiest one in the world, Vhagar.

“It’s him!” Rhaena exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Aemond.

It didn’t deter him, countering with his head high, violet eyes flicking from you to your cousin. “It’s me.”

“Vhagar is my mother’s dragon!” she yelled, hurt as if this reasoning would change Vhagar’s fate. As you moved to Aemond, Jace grabbed your hand, stopping you with an anxious yet demanding look on his face.

“Your mother is dead, and Vhagar has a new rider now,” your uncle replied, and you felt your brows raise in shock. You knew better than most of the cruelty he could commit, but after spending time with Aemond and seeing the softer, gentler, and kinder side of him, it took you off guard.

“She was mine to claim!” Rhaena argued, charging toward him in a challenge. Your skin began to itch, and your breath quickened.

The hatred felt at the funeral carried over into your brothers and cousins. Tension in the air crackled like a fire in a hearth, watching the yellow and orange flames slowly dwindle into embers until someone threw tinder to spark it.

“Then you should’ve claimed her! Maybe your cousins can find you a pig to ride,” Aemond sneered. “It would suit you.”

Your lips parted in empathetic offense as you looked from your uncle to Rhaena, tears of guilt and shame pricking at your eyes. You apologized about the pig, and you thought Aemond forgave you, but it seems he couldn’t let go of the hurt no matter how close you were. The feeling of joy for your uncle’s feat was as brief as your friendship.

With a surge of rage, Rhaena charged forward, attempting to push Aemond, but he swiftly countered, and she fell to the ground. You jumped back in shock as you covered your mouth, Luke standing beside you. Baela screamed, protecting her sister as she punched him across his face and Aemond yelped in pain. Without thinking, you went toward your uncle, fearful for his well-being in your heart, but he swiftly stood before you could reach him, returning the same swing to Baela. You gasped in horror and moved to the side, narrowly missing your cousin’s body from colliding with yours.

“Come at me again, and I’ll feed you to my dragon!” Aemond snarled at the twins, and without warning, Jace ran to him with a shout, shoving your uncle in offended anger and smacking him across the cheek.

You screamed for them to stop as you watched Luke try to join the fray, but you held him back, scared that he would get caught in the crossfire. He was the youngest and the littlest, most likely to get hurt. You needed to protect what family you could. Aemond brought this upon himself with his words of arrogance, but that didn’t stop you from wanting to defend him, too.

The scene before you was violent, a flurry of white, black, and red running atop Aemond as Luke slipped from your grasp, all pummeling, kicking, and screaming at him as you cried for them to stop. He was helpless as he suffered blow after blow, and you felt your heart splinter. This wasn’t a fair fight. Without worrying for yourself, you jumped on top of Jace, pulling him back from your uncle and giving him a chance to defend himself. You felt like a betrayer, turning against your twin to save your uncle. Your brother grunted as you both fell to the ground, his body on top of you as you struggled to keep him from fighting.

You and your siblings had fought before, but nothing like this. It was so vicious, filled with violence and want for pain, as Jace whipped his head back into yours, causing it to slam against one of the many jagged rocks across the ground, having you see stars. He went back into the brawl with no worry for your safety as you heard the unsheathing of a knife, your eyes blurry as you struggled to see the scene before you.

“You will die screaming in flames just as your father did!” Aemond yelled, suddenly holding Luke by his neck with a rock in his hand.

“My father is alive!” Luke gasped in protest, flinging his arms and blood running down his face.

You needed to get up to protect Luke from physical harm and the threat of discovering your lineage. You didn’t believe Aemond would kill Luke. He was capable of violence, but he wasn’t a murderer. As you tried to move, your skull felt filled with sand, pulling you back down to the ground as you felt the warm trickle of liquid run down your neck. You blinked rapidly, trying to clear your sight and mind.

Aemond spoke again to Jace, seeming to forget your existence and holding a sense of superiority. “He doesn’t know, does he, Lord Strong?”

You forgot how cruel Aemond could be. Your stolen moments of reading and kisses in the night had closed your eyes to it.

“Aemond, don’t,” you mumbled, skull pounding as the excruciating sounds of your brothers and uncle’s shouts pierced your ears like needles.

You blinked your eyes into focus, seeing Jace wildly swinging a knife at Aemond as you managed to kneel. Your brothers didn’t realize how dangerous what they were doing was, that a knife wasn’t something to use against someone who was armed with only a stone in hand. While Aemond was bigger and had more combat experience, a dagger would kill him. Being upset because someone claimed a dragon wasn’t worth murdering over.

Reaching your arm out with a soft grunt, you grabbed Jace’s ankle as Aemond pushed him over, holding the same rock above his head as he did for Luke. You thought Aemond knew better than this. You gave him the perfect opportunity to run and get help now that Baela and Rhaena huddled into a scared, crying mess, but he was too far gone into his anger to see reason, blinded by it.

“Aemond! No!” you shouted hoarsely, trying to stand but failing as your head pounded like a drumbeat.

He turned to you then, lowering the rock to his side as he stared at you with the sudden realization of what he had done. Your uncle was filled with a surge of superiority inside him. He couldn’t think straight, and when he happened upon the five of you, people he was always told that he was above, something inside him that lay dormant finally broke free. He knew he was always capable of violence, but felt remorse when he saw your bruised nose, tear-streaked cheeks, and blood dripping down your throat.

Did he do that to you?

Suddenly, Aemond was blinded, sand thrown into his eyes as he stumbled back and heard the yell of Luke, unimaginable pain soon following. You watched in horror as your brother savagely sliced into your uncle’s left eye, blood pouring and splattering across the ground.

Aemond couldn’t remember if you were amid his attackers. He surveyed the bruised and battered bodies before him and realized what he had done as his stomach fell to his feet.

He hurt people, just like Aegon. You would never entrust your secrets to him. His hands committed violence, but his heart desired to tell a different story—one of a strong and noble prince who went through many trials and tribulations to prove himself worthy of the princess's heart.

All you could hear were screams. Screams from you, screams from Aemond as you crawled towards him, sobbing.

“Aemond!” you cried as he doubled over, falling into your body as he screeched in pain.

“It hurts!” he wailed into your chest, his free hand clawing into your back. “It hurts! Help me!”

You trembled, arms struggling to keep yourself upright against his weight as the flurry of guards rumbled inside your skull like thunder. Unable to make out their words as they moved, it seemed like you were watching the world from outside your body, from the lenses of another, as Ser Harrold pried Aemond from your embrace.

It hurt. Everything hurt—your heart, stomach, muscles, and head. You weren’t sure who led you, Baela, Rhaena, Luke, and Jace to the Hall of the Nine as a flurry of people gathered, pushing and shoving as you clutched your skull. The room was so bright, so loud, as you heard your uncle’s screams. You felt sturdy arms grab you by your shoulders, roughly moving you as if you were nothing more than a doll, as it felt like your eyes were about to burst. Steel blue fabric blocked your eyes as you saw the hazy image of a seahorse stitched into the fabric.

“Father?” You reached out, small digits feeling along the fine silk until the texture of scruff scratched at your skin. Blinking, you saw the aged face of your grandfather, Lord Corlys, as he gathered you and your brothers behind him.

Where was he, and where was your mother?

You felt sick as people scattered around you like seagulls when they discovered a bloated whale carcass, all trying to see the injured Prince, who cried until the Maester poured Milk of the Poppy down his throat. It felt like when you accidentally drank the water from Blackwater Bay, like a cold, nauseous sensation that sent beads of sweat rolling down your spine.

“I don’t feel good,” you whispered to Jace as you leaned into his side, clutching your head and gut. He paid you no mind, peering behind your grandfather to see your other one appear, bearing total weight upon his dragon-head cane.

“How could you let such a thing happen?” Viserys questioned Ser Harrold, examining Aemond as you heard the sickening squelch of flesh and rattle of metal tools. “I will have answers!”

Despite it undoubtedly being a harrowing sight, you wanted to be by your uncle, to hold his hand through it, to feel his pain with him, but you couldn’t. You needed to be with your brothers. What they saw and experienced would haunt them for the rest of their lives. Luke had taken Aemond’s eye.

“The princess and princes were supposed to be abed, my king,” the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard explained, shame woven in his words.

Viserys wouldn’t allow his knights to show such carelessness, surveying each of them with critical eyes. “Who had the watch?”

“The young prince was attacked by his cousins, your grace,” Ser Cristion nonchalantly replied. His words angered you for reasons unknown, and you felt a lump rise in your throat.

Viserys turned to the room, looking between the two Kingsguards on opposite sides of the family as he hobbled on his cane. “You swore oaths to protect and defend my blood!” he boomed in a way you hadn’t seen before. You were afraid he would direct his anger at you, Jace, and Luke, wrapping your arms around them like you were in any state to protect your brothers.

“I’m very sorry, your grace,” Ser Westerling said, head hung low in unimaginable disgrace. You felt bad for him. There was no way he could have stopped this. He was doing his duty and serving his King. It was Ser Criston who should be blamed.

“The Kingsguard has never had to defend princes from princes before, your grace-”

“That is no answer!” your grandfather yelled at Ser Criston, causing a clap of pain to thunder inside your skull.

You wanted to go to bed, sleep for eternity, and be awake to everything as it was yesterday. Your brothers and cousins unbloodied and Aemond dragonless and with an eye.

“Where’s mother?” you noiselessly questioned Jace, leaning into his ear and almost losing your footing. You needed to stay strong for them.

“It will heal, will it not? Maester?” Queen Alicent asked, velveteen voice quivering with pain for her poor son. Maester Kelvyn finished stitching Aemond’s skin, throwing the needle and thread into a bowl with your uncle’s fleshy, viscous eye.

“The flesh will heal. The eye is lost, your grace,” his nasal voice replied matter-of-factly.

You were going to be ill.

Quickly, you ran through the multitude of people, pushing past Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys, who tried to stop you before you vomited all the contents of your stomach onto a person’s unsuspecting shoes. The crowd gasped in revolt, those not close to you jumping back and clutching their chests in shock. You found yourself before the fireplace, basking in its comforting warmth as you leaned onto the hearth and looked at the unlucky soul you retched on.

Perhaps the Gods had a twisted sense of justice as you saw the disgusted face of Aegon before you. You didn’t hide your amused smirk.

“Tend to the Princess!” the King shouted to the Maester, seeming to forget about his injured son and throwing his cane in your direction.

A flurry of green came before pale gray, tenderly cradling your visage in her palms as if you were her child, inspecting it. You grabbed the Queen’s wrists and attempted to push her away as if her touch burned, but she resisted, struggling against your childish strength until she grabbed your shoulders. Her touch reminded you of Aegon as you burst into tears, muscles going limp and at Queen Alicent’s mercy. She turned your head in her grasp, examining you with the utmost care that made another wave of nausea through you.

The crowd observed in anxious silence as Aemond turned to watch his mother treat you with the affection he wished to receive. Familiar hatred bloomed inside his heart, swallowing his dry mouth as he thought resentfully. He would still have his eye if he hadn’t been so concerned with you.

“I want my mother.” you whimpered, lips quivering in fear as the Queen lovingly wiped the blood from your neck.

The Queen released you from her grip as if you had struck her, chest heaving and wide brown eyes watering as she turned to her eldest son. Your mother was here; you didn’t realize it.

“Where were you?” she interrogated Aegon, smacking him upside down before he could answer.

“Ow! What was that for?” he questioned, incredulously rubbing at the afflicted area grimly. You held no sympathy for him as you hugged your sides.

“That was nothing compared to the abuse your siblings suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!” she whispered heatedly so only he could hear, shaking his gangly body in rage. You looked at the Queen with confusion, thinking she had gone mad with grief when she said “siblings.”

As the grand Hall doors creaked open, a shaft of golden light spilled into the room, casting long shadows on the marble floor. With an air of elegance, your mother swept into the room, her silk gown trailing behind her. Following closely was Uncle Daemon, his formidable presence filling the space. Amidst the whispers and murmurs, your name and that of your brothers floated through the air, drawing your attention. Without a second thought, you moved toward her, the sensation of fingertips brushing your bicep as if a ghostly hand had tried to hold you back, sending shivers down your spine.

“Show me, show me!” your mother ordered you and Luke, softly running her digits across your body as you sobbed with relief. “Who did this?”

“They attacked me!” Aemond yelled before you could get a word out, leaning from behind his chair.

You saw his wound on full display. An ugly crisscrossed row of stitches lined up his eye socket and onto his forehead, the flesh puckered and pink as it fought the infection. Your mother moved your face before you could stare any longer as a chorus of accusations from your brothers and cousins sang. You couldn’t get the image of his gash out of your head.

“He was going to kill Jace! I didn’t do anything!” Luke loudly shouted as you scrunched your eyes with a painful wince.

“Enough!” you heard your grandfather yell, and you looked at him with helpless, watery eyes, but no one listened.

“It should be my son telling the tale!” the Queen protested, fist pounding against her chest with conviction over the voices.

You continued to look at your grandfather in anguish, the King of The Seven Kingdoms, whom everyone ignored except you. “Silence!” he yelled, voice rattling inside his hollow chest as flem flew from his decaying mouth.

The Hall went silent, quieter than the Stranger himself, as everyone looked at one another, stunned at the turn of events. People came here to mourn the loss of a daughter, an aunt, a niece, a wife, and a sister. Viserys looked at you and then at his son, his ivory staff sounding with every movement as you swallowed, the taste of bile strong.

“He called us bastards.” you silently whispered to your mother, wiping the tears and snot from your face.

“Aemond, I will have the truth of what happened.” The King approached your uncle as he slumped into the armchair, stepping swiftly and with a newfound curiosity. “Now.”

“What else is there to hear?” Alicent questioned, clutching at her neck as tears threatened to spill. “Your son has been maimed, and her son is responsible.”

“Twas a regrettable accident,” your mother countered, moving her body to shadow the three of you from the onlookers.

“Accident?” the Queen repeated, astonished. “The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to the ambush! He meant to kill my son!”

You realized the truth didn’t matter now. All that did was what people perceived it to be.

“Twas my children who were attacked and forced to defend themselves!” your mother argued as she placed a comforting hand onto Luke’s shoulders. “Vile insults were levied against them!”

Your grandfather turned from his son to the four of you as you inhaled a shuddering breath. “What insults?” he questioned, a dangerous lilt to his tone that you had never heard before as the Hall went silent. It raised the hairs on your arms.

“The legitimacy of my children’s birth was put loudly to question,” your mother replied, her chin high yet holding a nervous waver to her voice.

As she turned towards you, your mother’s eyes conveyed a silent but insistent demand to verbalize what you previously whispered. She wished everyone to hear these words from you—the compassionate and considerate eldest daughter known as The Gods’ Light among the common folk. With tears streaming down your cheeks and your chest heaving with emotion, you gazed at Aemond with a sense of guilt. You knew the words you were about to utter would carry an extraordinary weight. Both sides sought someone to bear responsibility for the turmoil, but you recognized the unspoken truth.

At that moment, honesty seemed inconsequential. Aemond had suffered the loss of his eye due to Luke’s actions, and you keenly felt your failure to shield your brothers from harm. You would never fault at your duty again.

“He called us bastards,” you confessed, lacking the anger and conviction of your siblings as you sniffled, refusing to look at Aemond.

You watched as the Queen’s auburn tresses bounced with the slight affirming nod of her head, a look of disbelief and recognition crossing her face. At that moment, it became clear that she had informed Aemond about the deception, hardening your heart with betrayal. You had believed that she was different and loved you like family, and it stung to realize that she didn’t hesitate to spread lies that would hurt you.

“My children are to inherit the Iron Throne, your grace. This is the highest of treasons,” your mother reasoned, stepping forward to her slouched father as you attempted to reach for her hand to keep you hidden. “Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such awful slanders.”

As you gazed at your mother, her expression eerily mirroring that of Alicent’s, your lips began to quiver with unease. Was your mother implying that he should be subjected to torture? It seemed unfathomable. She couldn’t possibly be serious.

“Over an insult?” the Queen asked, shaking her head in disbelief. You knew she was trying to protect herself as you glared at the woman you once thought held the moon. “My son has lost an eye!”

“Tell me, boy. Where did you hear such lies?” the King seethed, face a hairsbreadth from Aemond as you whimpered.

“The insult was training yard bluster,” Alicent swiftly reasoned, eyes flicking desperately from her son to her husband. “The lot of boys. ‘Twas nothing-”

“Aemond,” your grandfather interrupted, ignoring his wife’s explanation. “I asked you a question.”

Your uncle sat in solemn silence, his lone violet eye unwaveringly fixed on the ground while his father awaited his reply. Before he could utter a word, the Queen unexpectedly interjected.

“Where is Ser Laenor, the children’s father? Perhaps he would have something to say on the matter,” she jeered.

Your grandfather turned, sparse brows scrunching together as he turned to Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys. “Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?”

“I do not know, your grace. I… could not find sleep and decided to take a walk,” your mother answered for them, smooth palms wiping across her crimson skirt.

The Queen let out a derisive laugh, her disbelief evident as she shook her head at her old friend. It was impossible to ignore the precise timing of Daemon’s arrival into the Hall of the Nine, trailing just moments behind Rhaenyra with her tousled strands of golden hair. Alicent bore the knowledge of her friend’s calculated machinations, even as Rhaenyra’s children stealthily slipped out of their beds to perpetrate the heinous act of maiming her son. She couldn’t dismiss the nagging suspicion that Ser Laenor was likely engaged in equally treacherous activities.

“Entertaining his young squires, I presume,” Queen Alicent sneered like before, making you feel the same deep-seated ire.

As no one dared to voice their opposition to her words, a glint of silver caught your eye from the corner, revealing Ser Criston Cole’s silent laughter. Like Ser Harwin, you felt the urge to wipe that smug grin off his tanned face, even though you knew it was impossible.

“Aemond, look at me. Your King demands an answer,” your grandfather began, staggering before your uncle. “Who spoke the lies to you?”

Everything went silent; the roaring of the fire and the crashing of the waves in the darkness were all that could be heard in the Hall. You understood that whoever Aemond implicated might not live til the next morn. You felt your throat grow tight and struggled to breathe, clutching at your throat as you swallowed the acrid taste in your mouth. Queen Alicent told him as you recalled the time in Helaena’s room. It confused you at first why she would spread such gossip as she seemed to hold a tenderness for you. Claiming your brothers were bastards went without saying you were, but you realized that whatever contempt she had within her heart weighed far more significant than any affection for you.

Some of you wished to shout that it was her, but you realized that was something Alicent would do without a second thought if the roles were reversed, and you did not want to be like her. She was wicked and cruel, just like her eldest.

“It was Aegon. He told Aemond to call us that,” you answered as every pair of eyes flocked to you. You didn’t like how close your grandfather was to him, afraid that he might strike him for the consequences of his mother. You felt your heart lurch into your throat as you gained the courage to speak the words aloud of all the bad things he did to you. “And he… he”

Before you could finish, your mother tucked you into her waist, kneeling and pushing your face into her shoulder. You tried to pull away from her when his hand rested on your head, the welt sensitive to touch.

“Don’t,” she whispered into your hair, disguising it as a kiss. They deserved to know. Everyone needed to know what awful Aegon did to you. You wanted to move against her, but your mind was foggy and muscles weak.

“Me?” Aegon exclaimed with shock, wide amethyst orbs looking at you with a broken expression.

“And you, boy,” your grandfather crept towards him, the rhythmic tapping of his cane piercing your skull like an ice pick. “Where did you hear such calumnies?” Your uncle refused to answer him as his gaze bore holes into your being. There was no remorse in your heart for him. “Aegon, tell me the truth of it!” Viserys shouted, causing you to flinch and cover your ears.

“We know, father,” Aegon replied fearlessly, refusing to remove his stare from your quivering form. “Everyone knows. Just look at them.”

Feeling the stares from the guests, you admired your uncle for not implicating his mother like a coward, removing your body from your mother, wiping the snot from your lip. Let them look, you thought, inhaling a deep breath as you felt your mother bring you closer. They would stare at you for the rest of your days. It was best if you grew accustomed to it now.

“This interminable infighting must cease!” the King declared, banging his walking stick off the pale stone floor. “All of you! We are family! Now, make your apologies and show goodwill to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it.”

You grimaced at his words, and though you loved your grandfather, having been his favorite granddaughter, you disagreed with him. You refused to apologize for your family trying to defend themselves, and the Queen couldn’t help but agree more.

“That is insufficient,” Alicent said, gesturing to her son. “Aemond has been damaged permanently, my King. Goodwill cannot make him whole.”

Aemond’s fingers dug into the wooden framing of the armchair, and your chin quivered at the thought of what he might be feeling.

“I know, Alicent,” Viserys sighed, “but I cannot restore his eye.”

“No, because it’s been taken,” she sobbed, clutching at her chest, flicking her hair back in a manner that reminded you of Aegon. “There is a debt to be paid. I shall have the hand of her eldest to one of my sons. To mend the rift and unite the House of the Dragon once more.”

“Alicent,” your grandfather breathed in a warning, yet still turned to his daughter, having a hint of hope in his violet eyes.

You looked at your mother, shock overcoming any sadness you felt as she shoved you behind her skirts like a hen would do to her chick, too stunned to speak. “I refuse.”

The Queen shook her head, a sneer curling her plump lips and wet cheeks. Rhaenyra was a selfish, wicked woman with no inclination of decency. Why couldn’t she see this would be solved if she returned Alicent’s rightful daughter to her? The Queen steeled herself to the belief that she would have to fight for her right to have you. She knew deep in her bones that you would one day be by her side.

“Then I shall have one of her sons’ eyes in return. The Princess is innocent,” the Queen declared with a desperate wave of tears.

Aemond looked to his mother, face impassive, and senses dulled from Milk of the Poppy. He didn’t recall telling her about what you did for him, though it was very little. It felt like he was becoming a second thought to his mother, who seemed only to be scheming on how to insert his niece into their lives. Aemond realized then that he would always be second in his mother’s heart to you, and he felt hollow at the thought, the love that once filled it for his niece ceasing to exist.

“Do not allow your temper to guide your judgment,” your grandfather warned Queen Alicent. She said nothing as her chest heaved, brown orbs flicking between her husband and old friend.

Believing the matter finished, the King backed away, but Alicent wouldn’t allow this to be the end. She looked to her sworn protector, an apathetic expression on her visage.

“If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston, bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon.” Ser Criston looked to the Queen with a startled expression as Luke cried for your mother. “He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son.”

“You will do no such thing,” your mother steadfastly declared, ensuring the three of you were behind her.

“Stay your hand,” the King commanded as the Queen shook with rage, desperately looking between her husband and sworn protector. She reminded you of a deer cornered in a vast forest, listening to the distant howls of wolves closing in for the hunt.

“No, you are sworn to me!” she yelled, finger pointing to her chest indignantly. All waited for the knight to respond, the Lord Commander slowly bringing his hand to the hilt of his sword.

“Protect your brother,” your mother whispered, never straying her eyes from the Queen. Without further instruction, you stood before Luke, gradually backing him away from the group of people unnoticed. You understood Alicent would not hurt you, as did your mother.

“As your protector, my Queen,” Ser Criston replied with a wary head tilt.

“Alicent, this matter is finished. Do you understand?” your grandfather declared, seething, his face centimeters away from his wife before he addressed the room. “And let it be known that if anyone’s tongue dares to question, the birth of Rhaenyra’s children should have it removed.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, you let go of Luke, coming to take your place beside your mother as she thanked the King. The unsheathing of a blade cut through the room as the form of Queen Alicent charged toward your family, startling you, the King’s ancestral dagger in her grasp. Luke screamed as she reached the four of you, but your mother stepped in her path before Alicent could enact her rage.

Suddenly, a person shoved into you, disregarding your existence as you found yourself on the floor. You noticed how the stone seemed to ebb and wave like the flow of the tide. Lord Corlys appeared beside you, lifting you into his arms, securely bound around your torso as he took you into the circle of your cousins and brothers, your mother struggling against the Queen.

“You’ve gone too far!” your mother admonished the Queen as tears burned her eyes. She pushed against Alicent, and she jerked against her, trying to get to your brother.

“I?” Queen Alicent exclaimed, voice thick with anguish as you attempted to push out of your grandfather’s arms, kicking your legs into his side. “What have I done, but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, and the law while you flout to do as you please?”

“Alicent, let her go!”

The Queen still poised the dagger to strike, its new path being that of the heir to the Iron Throne as your mother looked helplessly to the onlookers. No one made to separate the two as they all stared in shock, the fire illuminating their faces like wraiths of death. Landing a hard smack to Lord Corlys’s neck, he dropped you as you shoved through the onlookers toward your mother. She put her life for yours and your brothers, but who would put hers before theirs?

“Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? My happiness and dreams? It’s templed under your pretty foot again!” the Queen sobbed, her form trembling with hurt and rage, everything that she bottled inside her for years.

“Release the blade, Alicent,” Lord Otto commanded, a man you hadn’t met until this morn, but she paid him no mind, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she pushed against her old friend.

“Wasn’t taking her, my only light, enough for you? And now you take my son’s eye, and to that, you feel entitled,” she confessed, tears making the Queen’s mouth thick with wetness as you shouldered your way to the inner circle of people.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness,” your mother interrogated, a bitter grimace on her sharp lips. “But now they see you as you are.”

Alicent stared at your mother with an enraged offense that wrinkled her brows as she felt fire surge through her, and with a loud cry, she unthinkingly swung your family’s ancestral dagger. You screamed, running to your mother as you pulled her back, seeing a gash on her inner arm that gushed with blood.

“Mama,” you wept, tenderly holding her limb as if it would break.

Dropping the dagger, Alicent took an instinctual step toward you, a blanched, horror-stricken expression across her round face. She longed to go to you, to dry your tears and stroke your head against her bosom like your true mother would, but she could not. The terror and fear in your wide brown eyes that resembled her own sliced through her chest and laid her heart and soul bare as she felt a small hand slide into hers. The Queen hoped to see you standing beside her and thought herself mad before she securely took her son’s fist.

Much like you, Aemond knew his parent needed him. “Do not mourn me, mother. ‘Twas a fair exchange,” he expressed with a maturity beyond his years. He turned to you, a violet gaze once filled with joy now devoid, hollow, and one less eye. “I may have lost an eye but gained a dragon.”

You wished Aemond hadn’t claimed one this way and felt a hiccup wrack your lungs as you cried into your mother, Jace, and Luke coming beside you. You sadly realized this was the end of the fleeting companionship you cultivated with your uncle. All the stolen moments of reading, ideas, philosophies, and aspirations you shared under the cover of privacy were nothing more than air the moment he ran across the dunes. You would have still cared for him without a dragon, as before, but his pride wouldn’t allow it, and now he stared at you with an eye that you knew far too well.

Aemond hated you. He loathed you and your brothers with a fire that would never cease. This was your fault. He lost an eye because of you—because he cared about his bastard niece and had the foolish dream of becoming the man you loved. You did not deserve it. You were nothing more than a common girl born from sin, undeserving of your station. He would despise you for the rest of his days no matter how his heart screamed to have you by his side when darkness fell and all that was left was the ghost of your touch.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

Happiness never lasts in ASOIAF. I'm going to miss writing for baby Aemond and reader. They were so cute! From now on it's going to be messed up young adults with severe mommy uses and mental illness. I'm not going to say who has which XD. Thank y'all so much for reading and I hope to see y'all in the next chapter!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp, @britt-mf, @marvelescvpe, @haikyuusboringassmanager, @discofairysworld, @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n, @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint

193 notes · View notes

howdoesagrapewrites · 1 year ago

Text

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐉𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐈𝐈

Plot: Imagine being the legitimized bastard of Daemon Targaryen, and having a very devoted family.

Cw: incest/targcest, yandere/lovesick behavior, unhealthy relationships, platonic and romantic yanderes, not everyone is romantically involved with reader, yandere EVERYONE x reader, Aegon II is creepy

Notes: someone told me they were waiting for part 2 🥹 btw I hate the show's timeline as a book reader because it makes absolutely no sense and I can't write properly, halfway through this I literally have decided to throw it away and run with what my heart tells me, otherwise I'll combust

>When your father came back from the war of the stepstones in 115 a.c, newly wed to Laena Velaryon, you didn't think anything was going to change, right?

>You missed the Vale, you didn't like seeing your father and Rhea fighting, but she was so kind, just like your wet nurse, she wasn't here in the castle either

>But there was a lot of new people here, and you liked them all, since they're all your family, it is only natural you'd love them all, they often say they love you too

>When the news of Rhea's death and Daemon's nuptials came, almost arriving together, it sparked a sense of empathy and compassion throughout the red keep

>All of the Targaryens were already too "heedful" with your care, declaring you'd be cared for only by family, and in the extraordinary case no one was around, there was two very meticulously chosen handmaidens who were to watch over you until a family member was available

>This measure was whispered from Otto Hightower to king Viserys, this passed as a safety measure, saying that because of your origins, you were at risk, setting the infamous "princess of Flea Bottom" title as precedent to say you were not welcomed by everyone, and therefore in danger (even if everyone who was even rumoured to be against your stay in the castle, had already been "taken care of"). Of course no one objected

>This reawoke an old rivalry between Rhaenyra and Alicent, old playmates with unspoken grudges, now desperate to prove they could be a better, more adequate influence in your life

>Willfully ignoring your young age, and the fact you'll likely forget half of whatever they say by the time you're ten, what matter is that even when Daemon takes you away, you'll be able to remember one of them with particular fondness

>It was the truth, a hard and bitter truth, that you'd have to eventually leave, everyone looking for excuses to give to Daemon once he arrived, in order to keep you around longer, maybe indefinitely

>Alicent felt uneasy when thinking of stealing you away from your sire, as much as she disliked Daemon, and believed you'd be much better off being raised as hers, along with her children, you clearly loved him, you drew pictures and saved "treasures" to give to him once he returned

>You also used to ask about Rhea, no one had the heart to tell you, but still fearing the crude words your father would use to tell you of her passing, after all, Rhea was still "his bronze bitch". Finally, it was Viserys who had to break the news to you, he was considerate and comforting, even explaining how his parents and former wife passed away as well, and how he still carries them in his heart

>You lacked the proper cognitive development to fully process it, but it made you sad you were never to see Rhea again, this made you even closer to Viserys

>Alicent wondered if there was a possibility of offering one of his son's hands, if that would make you stay, she certainly wouldn't be displeased to have as a daughter in law, Rhaenyra did the same, after all, wasn't the heir to the iron throne a much better match?

>But the day finally came, where you had to leave

>Your father forsook his crown as King of the narrow sea to Viserys, who humorously put the crown on your little head, and named you princess of the narrow sea

>With the crown falling to your forehead due to its size, you hugged your father as soon as you saw him, with giggles and words of affection, as much as it endeared them, it broke everyone's heart to remember how your time in the red keep was nothing but extraordinary. Viserys thanked the seven no one could hear his thoughts, it would be improper for a king to wish for war, just to keep his baby niece around

>This moment created a long string of creative bards singing about Y/N Targaryen, princess of the narrow sea, queen of hearts

>It was finally time for you to go to leave, Laena was ecstatic to take you with her after meeting you for the first time, but she was a smart girl and noticed she was taking away something very precious

>But celebrations had passed and it was time to go

>You lived in Pentos for the next 10 years of your life, with your father, step-mother and little sisters, Rhaena and Baela

>Daemon was not so happy to take you to King's Landing for different events, however, Laena said it was good for you to be around your cousins and nephews, good for the twins as well

>And she said that since you had your own dragon, it's best to just, it'd be better for you to not feel trapped, otherwise one day you'll just get on dragonback and do as you please

>Daemon did not like the idea of you ever leaving or having enough independence to just hop on a dragon and leave, but he understood his wife was right

>When Laena lightheartedly told the prince of Pentos that he must only ask if he wished to marry one of the girls, Daemon grimaced in his classic unsubtle fashion

>You and your sisters were excitedly ogling the new dragon egg that was meant for your sibling

>One night, Rhaena came to your room looking for comfort, she feared her new little brother or sister would have a great dragon like Vhagar, or swift as Moondancer and then she'd be left alone

>You had Dagahrion, and Baela had Moondancer, both dragons were bonded with you since birth, but Rhaena's died shortly after hatching. She was given another egg, that sadly had not even hatched

>According to the dragonkeepers, Dagahrion still needed a little more time before you could safely ride, and Moondancer had a long way to go.

>Dagahrion and Moondancer were polar opposites, where Moondancer was small, slender and agile, with lightly coloured pale sage green scales and pearl horns, Dagahrion was growing larger by the day, heavy and mighty, with black scales that shone like a green tourmaline in the sun, and dark laurel colored horns. The dragons would often play together, and were called "the greyhound and the mastiff"

>Rhaena feared her bond with you would be outshined by the future races and sky stunts you and Baela would share. And when Aemond took Vhagar, it felt even worse

>After Laena's death, you had lost a mother again. You deeply mourned her, but you felt a different kind of sadness watching Rhaenys coddle the girls in the funeral, and Corlys telling Lucerys he'd be the lord of Driftmark. Rhaenys had you on her embrace as well, but the looks on you had brought a bitter truth to your attention, one that was nonexistent in Pentos, and swept under the rug in King's Landing. You were a bastard. The whimsical melodies about the princess of the narrow sea, had made you forget the princess was born illegitimate

>You were now 13, and the stares and whispers your family shielded you from, were words much easier to put together, faces much easier to see

>The lords and ladies gossiped when everyone ran to hug you before the true orphans, you felt guilty

>"Lady Laena leaves two true-born daughters on the coast" said Vaemon. You smiled through the pain

>Your father started laughing to try and shut him up, it worked

>It also pained you to reunite with your beloved playmates, and see Aegon, your azantys, who you admired, now turned into a creep. He hugged you longer than he did with anyone else, but his hands lingered in a way you couldn't enjoy

>Lucerys and Jacaerys were there with you and your sisters, just like you could see the look thrown at you, you could see them being thrown the way of the Velaryon brothers. You didn't talk much, but you enjoyed their company

>Aemond tried to latch onto you and take you to where his family was, but after some time you had to return to your sisters, he didn't like that

>Helaena was just like you remembered her, she was still ever so gentle and had so many things to tell you about her bugs

>But some of her words were now cryptic to you

>"My dear Y/N, dragon in the flesh, do not believe the dragons in thread" she kept repeating, not even looking at you

>You slept in the room that was meant for your father, he hadn't returned yet. You slept in the second bed in that room rather than with the other children, you wanted to cry, but wanted to appear strong for your sisters, so you preferred to be away for the night

>However, the ruckus woke you up, Aemond stole Vhagar, and Lucerys made him lose an eye

>Jacaerys told you about the "hilarious" time they gave Aemond a pig, you silently reprimanded them, you didn't find it funny, but to go and steal Rhaena's last connection to her mother?

>Vhagar was not a heirloom, not a thing, but Rhaena deserved a chance to try to tame her before others did

>You were upset, however tried to stay at Aemond's side, after all, he was the one who lost an eye

>At least until you heard your nephew. "He called us bastards", you looked at him with a sad, disappointed expression before completely (and literally) turning your back on him to go console your sisters

>Rhaena was the most affected, her connection to her late mother, and to her sisters, was stolen by Aemond. In the moment, she feared Aemond would steal you away too, you seemed to be fond of him, and the queen would often tell stories of how close you were with her children. Losing you to Baela was one thing, she was her twin, and you would be within reach, but Aemond?

>Aemond was true to his words when he said gaining a dragon was worth losing an eye

>But he wasn't so sure it was worth losing you

#yandere daemon targaryen #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #yandere rhaenyra targaryen #yandere targaryens #yandere aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen x reader

762 notes · View notes

doctorwhoandfairytaillover · 4 months ago

Text

Mine (Two - Shot)

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

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

|| My Masterlist ||

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And that dragon was Daemon.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No! Never!"

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

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

He smirked, “Hello there.”

“Hello” she whispered back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her breath hitched in her throat and stilled.

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

He slowly licked his lips.

He couldn’t help himself.

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

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

His to take.

His to enjoy fully.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please?”

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

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

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

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

And to her it was everything.

She moaned softly and tugged at his hair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He wanted you, and he wanted you now.

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

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

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

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

“Mine.”

#house of the dragon x reader #daemon x reader #daemon targeryen x reader #x reader #x reader insert #mildly spicy content #hightower reader

121 notes · View notes

snowprincesa1 · 1 year ago

Text

{seducing the prince }

Jacaerys x F!Lannister!Reader

Summary: Jacaerys knew he would have to marry for duty, he didn’t know his duty would be to you.

Trigger warnings:‼️Coitus and jacaerys a whipped man playing hard to get 😘😘😘😘

Special thanks to my babe/beta reader @luckytoucan 💗💗💗💗

Jacaerys always hated you. Hated how close you were to the Aegon and aemond in his childhood. How you always preferred their company over his. He tried so hard to make you notice him, to make you perhaps feel and inch of what he felt for you. Each time those dreams get shattered by the sound of your laugh with helaena and daeron over him. He didn’t fail to see how Aegon and aemond had indoctrinated you with hatred against him and his brothers. He had to hate you, hate your pride and pettiness, the snobby Lannister attitude you held. He saw you as one of the Queen’s party hoping for Aegon the elder to ascend the throne over his mother and him.

But sure enough that did not happen. Queen Rhaenyra ascended the throne and when jacaerys turned sixteen named his heir to the crown infront of all the lords and ladies of the court. He would forget you, forget how you looked walking through the gardens with his aunt, he would forget the way you danced, the way you haunted his very soul. Jacaerys felt himself grow mad with the constant thoughts of you blurring his mind turning it into a slurry. He needed to get away from you and the clasp you had of him. He needed you gone from his sight and away so he could just lose memory of you entirely. Over the years your cruel teasing did not weaken, often throwing him a flirty smile knowing damn well that nothing on this earth would ever get you to marry a bastard, crown prince or not, you took pleasure in complimenting as to how strong he had grown. Every ‘compliment’ you threw was an insult in disguise.

You can only imagine the shock he felt when his mother there queen Rhaenyra betrothed him to you years later, his stomach flipped upside down, in excitement? Fear? Annoyance? He looked over to you and there you were smiling at him as though you held the upper hand.

“You are not upset by this? Not even in the slightest?” He asked surprised as he grew more frustrated at the fact you seemed so alright with this.

“If i marry you I will be queen someday, surely you are just an addition that comes with the arrangement” you said sipping from your wine, amused by his reactions. Of course, he should have expected this from a Lannister, no matter how pretty they come you cannot change their nature. Always so smug, he wanted to make you feel the way he did. He was so helplessly in love with you but deemed your lannister self incapable of love, too smug to even care to feel a thing. Now as your betrothed he found himself at an advantage..

You on the other side always tried to to revert back to the past and change the way you behaved towards him. You quite literally tried to charm your way into his heart but all your actions seemed to be of no avail. He always shut down every smile with a polite nod, every kind word you said was met with his disdain, he quite literally at this point assumed your whole existence as a mockery towards him. You believed your betrothal would soften his heart up but instead it hardened it. The man could not seem to bear your presence, always growing agitated.

You attempted to win him over with gifts, with kisses which he averted from, with physical affection holding his hand and batting your pretty eyes at him, he showed no reaction to these. You often attempted to flirt with him in high valyrian which he had perfected, instead of appreciating your effort, he took the time to correct your pronunciation and grammatical errors.

You embroidered for him. You attempted to melt his heart by talking of the future where the two of you would have little children. Nothing worked, the most infuriating part was that with all the time you spent swaying him you felt yourself grow more fond of him yourself.

Whenever jacaerys sparred with Nettles, a supposed dragon seed brought to court because of her fierce skills in combat, you felt your heart feel the pang of anger and sadness. He seemed more fond of his uncles over you at this point and you felt absolutely helpless. You wanted to leave the past behind and win his affection. Perhaps that is not what fate wanted for the two of you. You walked away from the sparring ground and jacaerys noticed your absence in his mind.

The whole court was not blind to this tug of war game between the two of you, the jealousy that lingered between other possible lovers the two of you had. His brothers teased him incessantly over how he kept your embroidery in a special box in the cupboard and how he blew up if anyone attempted to touch what you gave him. Jacaerys loved the attempts you made towards him to make up for your past behaviour, he loved every moment of it. Every smile of yours would replay over and over in his mind once it was over. Thoughts of future children with you sent his blood rush to his nether regions, to see you carry his children.

He would often dress up far better than he usually did for sparring lessons in case you’d visit..or rather he’d dress down, discarding his sweaty shirt only if you were in the vicinity.

Nothing bothered Jacaerys more than seeing you with his uncles, at princess helaena’s name day party. His angered expression not was one he attempted to hide. you could feel his glare towards his uncle Daeron, a man of the same age as him. Daeron was mischievous and cheeky who also like everyone enjoyed annoying jacaerys as the two of them always saw each other as rivals even though they shared a wet nurse. Jacaerys could take it no longer dragging you away from dinner, his hand lingered on your arm, holding you firmly but not enough to hurt you.

“How many times must you repeat this song and dance?” He hissed pushing your back into the cold pillar “why can’t you leave me be?” He asked, his hands holding yours as you struggled in his hold, his hands had covered the entirety of your wrist as though it was nothing.

“Can you not see? How blind can you be?” You asked in an angry tone. His grasp did not leave your hands as he suddenly turned you around pressing you against the rough pillar wall pinning your hands to your lower back as you felt his figure croon over you. “Why do the gods have to make me put up with you” you felt his hot breath on your ear and the heat of his body radiating your own. You were glad he could not see your flustered face.

“I’ve only ever tried to get your attention” you voiced out, on hearing your voice he pressed you further into the bricks. You could hear him chuckle.

“So you throw yourself at my uncle?” jacaerys answered his grip tightening around your wrists. He felt conflicted a part of him died to believe your words, that you wanted his attention, the other ran his imagination wild seeing you with Daeron in uncompromising positions. “ah yes, they’re true born and i am..” he trailed off his hands abruptly let your wrist go. “And what do they tell you that it is a pity that your beauty is being wasted on me, a strong prince as you once said” his voice echoed in the empty corridors, he had lost all awareness of his surrounding.

“No! I did not say that! I have played very trick in the book, I have used every tactic anything to get you to like me and the only time you seem to ever even look at me is if I am with another. You think I like parading myself in this tight gown for no reason? Have you even seen my dress or have you been too caught up in your hobby of making me your enemy”

“Yes I have seen the way you look!” He answered angrily. He ran a hand through his hair as he looked at you.

“Then tell me how do I look!” You yelled back you felt tears if frustration bubble at the rims of your eyes, you looked away quickly would this how the entirety of the marriage would go? With you begging for him to notice you? You needed him to notice you at this point, want was no longer sufficient.

“Beautiful” jacaerys said the words he had held in his mouth for so long “So beautiful that if I take one glance it’ll never be enough, if I get one taste that too would not suffice, my greed, my lust is insatiable for you” you knew you had him then, he was yours and yours to keep. Your efforts weren’t in vain.

“You do not hate me then?” You asked surprised as his eyes watched you intently at your every move, what were you planning now..

“Oh make no mistake I do, I’ve always hated you. You’ve always played me as though I was a game. I am not my lady I would have remember that I am the crown prince of the seven kingdoms, my parentage does not matter because I am a Targaryen” he said he turned to leave one more.

You walked towards him and grabbed his face in yours, he admitted that he thought you beautiful and in your eyes that was a victory in itself, this was your chance to seduce your brunette prince as you closed the distance between your faces by planting a gentle kiss on his lips, in hopes it would sway his feelings about you. He gasped against your mouth feeling your lips press against his so perfectly. His hands instantly wrapped around your waist feeling the fabric of your gown crumbling it in his hands, “you shouldn’t hate me, sweet prince” you teased him, habits die hard. As his lips fought your own for dominance, his right hand reaching up to hold your face as he drank you in, the moment your lips parted for a gasp his hot tongue found its way into yours, your mouths in total sync, it was hard to keep your mind sharp now, just as he did you grace into your senses.

That’s how you found yourself with your dress ripped to shreds and your leg propped on his shoulders as he thrusted into you sharply, he made no attempt to stop any time soon, you gasped and moaned and claws at his chest anything to make you feel as though you had control over your betrothed. He drove you mad stopping just when you were about to peak, he denied you of cumming over and over leaving you teary eyed moaning as he brought you such pleasure and pain. If he denied you once more you felt as though you would collapse from the sheer need.

This was your punishment for everything you had ever done to him, every smirk, every mocking word, you felt yourself bend in ways you never thought possible. Jacaerys felt up the fat of your thighs as he leaned in the two of you in to fetch a passion filled kiss. You felt his heavy length press into your sensitive spot and he smirked on seeing you squirm under him as so, release was a mirage so close yet so far. “I should not let you cum, you do not deserve it” he said kissing the leg that sat on his shoulder.

“Tell me how I can win your forgiveness my prince” You moaned out feeling him hitting that one spot that made your head go hazy as you looked to at him with lust drunken eyes.

Jacaerys smirked “there’s nothing you can do” he grunted out letting moans of his escape as his eyes shut from the intensity of the pleasure, perhaps he was being too cruel to you..

“You are right I do not want your forgiveness, I want more— I need you to be mine” you whined out, the pure euphoria of having you in his arms, under him, needing him just like he prayed to the gods you would. His feelings perhaps were not entirely one sided.

“You already have me, do you not see?” He said truthfully holding your hand to his heart “it beats for you lioness” He whispered in your ear and you gasped from the sheer intimacy and lewdness of your hips moving into each other, the soft wet sounds emulating in the wide halls but now all you could focus was on the man before you, his fingers reached down to your nub rubbing a calloused finger over it, the right little circles along with the snapping of his hips made you throw your head back and moan in tears as you felt your release build up for the fourth time since jacaerys had edged you, your eyes filled with tears as you looked to your betrothed with pleasing eyes to let you cum.

Jacaerys could not find it in himself to deny you of your pleasure anymore as he felt you come hard with a shrill cry of his name. All over his tunic. He felt his own release build up seeing your fucked out look with a few more sloppy hard thrusts he gave you all his cum, strings of his seed trailed down your shaky legs. He swore this was the hardest he had orgasmed ever in his life, his breath lost as he plopped himself over you his head resting in the crook of your neck as you rolled his silky brown hair between your fingers.

“You mean it? You love me?” You asked feeling him hum on your neck placing soft kisses on it as the two of you sunk to your feet using the pillar as support as jacaerys peppered you with kisses.

“Lying has never been in my nature” he said “I have loved you since the moment you I laid my eyes on you, princess” he smiled pulling himself from your neck to gaze upon your afterglow, messy lip tint smeared all over your face from the bruising kisses he gave you. You gasped and playfully punched at his side. “Your little tactics to get me to love you were quite entertaining, I admit” he smirked kissing you once more” as the two of you embraced in the cold of the night you felt so warm with his arms over you.

“You’re telling me all my seduction tactics were never necessary?!” You asked bewildered at your betrothed, you saw jacaerys crack up laughing as though if your realisation was the funniest thing to him. He would have to make up for this he knew, he was always ready to turn the tables around and win your forgiveness with his own seduction tactics.

#jacaerys x reader #jacaerys Targaryen x reader #jacaerys strong x reader #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys x oc #jacaerys x you #jacaerys x y/n #jacaerys Targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon #asoiaf #hotd #hotd fanfiction #jacaerys fanfic #jacaerys x female oc

1K notes · View notes

maglors-grief · 15 days ago

Text

I still can't get over what they did with Daemon's character in season 2. The Riverlands storyline in particular befuddles me because who is Oscar Tully to tell King Consort Daemon that him and Willem Blackwood went too far in how the Brackens were treated? They're in a war and the Brackens were refusing to bend the knee which is actual treasonous behavior. For trying to side with the usurper, they're pretty lucky they didn't get worse treatment tbh. But what I hate even more is how much of pushover Daemon is shown to be in those scenes. He puts on a big show of trying to intimidate the Brackens into bending the knee by threatening them with Caraxes, they still refuse, and what does Daemon do? Nothing. Idk I just feel like book!Daemon would have fed at least a couple of them to Caraxes to prove a point lol.

He lets people refuse to bend the knee, he lets them threaten to ally themselves with the enemy, he lets himself get bossed around by some lords. Like Daemon did you forget who you were??

I've already complained about this in previous posts but this is also once again a case of characters who were enthusiastic team black supporters in the book but they're extremely hesitant in the show and they even seem to dislike team black.

I'm tired of the narrative the show has going on where all of team black's allies are seemingly only supporting Rhaenyra because of oaths or shared blood. Jeyne "we women must stick together in this world of men" Arryn looked like she was one second away from switching sides every time she was on screen. Rhaenys was ready to spill Green blood as soon as possible in the book but they made her against war and and barely tolerant of Rhaenyra in the show. In the book when Daemon began assembling troops at Harrenhal, thousands responded to the call to support Rhaenyra, even River lords. But in the show Daemon has a hard time trying to gather people to join his cause and it's not until Oscar Tully tells his people to side with them that they actually do and also of course Oscar Tully can't stand Daemon because ya know team black supporters have to hate team black for one reason or another.

Daemon was extremely effective with his time in Harrenhal in the book but they made him pathetic in season 2. Almost every character has had a major personality change from season 1 to season 2 which I don't really understand because both seasons have the same writers right? Miguel Sapochnik left after season 1 but he couldn't have been solely responsible for the first season being decent or was he? I'm just confused about what the heck went wrong in season 2.

#I just randomly got mad about Willem Blackwood's death and then it made me mad about Daemon hence this post lol #And I didn't even mention the stupid storyline they threw in of Daemon considering usurping Rhaenyra #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon #house targaryen #house of the dragon season 2 #team black #anti team green #anti ryan condal #hotd spoilers #hotd #hotd critical #pro daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen

75 notes · View notes

proudofmyanger · 7 months ago

Text

Beware: a pessimistic rant with lots of speculations

Imo the decision to write Alicent and Criston having sex during b&c is really bad. I think it's a very unnecessary change, and I don't see how it fits the narrative. And it's so obvious what the writers' intentions are. They are not interested in exploring these characters and their relationship. They just want to shift the focus away from blood and cheese and make the greens look bad. Of course, in no way Alicent and Criston having sex makes them guilty of the tragedy that is b&c. But it seems that the show is taking the focus away from team black's fault to blame the greens. I don't believe that the showrunners don't know what they are doing.

In the books, Alicent was right there when it happened. She was the witness of team black's cruelty. She saw how they tormented her sweet daughter and her grandchildren, how they killed her grandson. Murderers making Alicent witness everything contributed to how vile b&c was, how unnecessary cruel. It gave Alicent even more motivation to fight her family's enemies and seek revenge. But now, thanks to hotd's bullshit she's going to blame herself more than anyone else. Wonderful. Why make her absent during b&c and add this new plotline about her feeling guilty because of it? Because god forbid Alicent starts being angry and hating her enemies again, right? They just have to make Alicent conflicted about her every action. They can't allow her to have confidence again. She has to always blame herself. They just have to make Alicent and Criston continue feeling bad about themselves.

There's also this picture:

Are they making it so that Aegon doesn't notice the murderer right under his nose?

So what do we get? Aegon doesn't notice Blood, probably because he's lightheaded or drunk. Alicent and Criston are absent having sex. And I'm not going to be surprised if they make Aemond go to the brothel during b&c, too. It feels like a joke.

B&C is supposed to show the cruelty team black is capable of. But instead of focusing on that, they're going to make all the greens look incompetent and feel guilty. And knowing this show they might even frame it as if the greens are at fault for what happened too. Tbh it's disgusting. The only people who are guilty are the ones who ordered, orchestrated and executed this bloody spectacle. But they are probably gonna not just make Daemon the only one behind it, but make the whole thing an accident. We already have leaks saying that Rhaenyra and Daemon just wanted to kill Aemond. It's going to be so bad.

House of the dragon? No, house of the accidents. House of the cringe and bad writing.

#hotd critical #anti hotd #team green #anti team black #pro team green #alicent hightower #criston cole #aegon ii targaryen #hotd

182 notes · View notes

gwenllian-in-the-abbey · 5 months ago

Note

Not fluent in English.

Please tell me I’m not the the only who noticed that team green characters in the show aren’t allowed to hate team black characters.

Like Aemond can’t even hate Lucerys for cutting his eye and disabled him for life.

And Alicent can’t hate Viserys for marrying and gr*ping her and forcing pregnancies on her, even though he have no intention to name any of their sons his heir, and treating her mostly like a caretaker and concubine rather than his lawful wife and the mother of his legitimate children.

Aegon and Helaena aren’t even allowed to hate Daemon the man who ordered the death of their Son.

Like why??? Why aren’t they allowed to hate them???

Hi aleksandra! You make a good point! I think there are a few things going on here.

For one, I think the writing is incredibly inconsistent across the board this season, and there are a lot of dropped plot threads. Some of it is intentional (like, I do think B&C was deliberately downplayed and undermined so that Alicent could have that Dragonstone scene, more on that in a bit), some of it I think is just bad writing and a kind of ... well, look, I can't speculate as to what goes down in the writer's room and have no idea what their workflow looks like or what processes they follow, but a problem going back to S1 is that characters and dialogue vary a lot from episode to episode. I don't think it's all that normal for a fandom to be concerned ahead of time about which writers will be writing which scenes and which episodes, but with HotD there seem to be huge differences in how each writer interprets the characters. Having worked on OFCIR collaboratively with @aifsaath, we work really hard to make sure the chapters are relatively consistent. I gave our first few chapters to my critique partner for original fiction, a guy who knows my writing inside and out, someone I've worked with for about 6 years now, @theravenpiper, and he could not actually tell which scenes were written by me, and which were written by Aife, which I took as a big complement to our collaborative process, and to our ability to edit to a uniform standard. Now I'm not saying we do it better than the HotD writers, but I do think that there is something missing from their collaborative process that makes the entire thing seem disjointed.

I do not think it is entirely that the whole of team green is not allowed to be angry at team black, although that is part of it, some of it is part of an overall bigger problem where major events are not allowed to resonate across the story, and I chalk some of it up to simple bad writing. Rhaenyra is apparently over Luke's death enough by E3 that she can seek out Alicent for some kind of vague "let's stop this madness" ploy, but still conveniently needs "a son for a son" in E8. Although Rhaenyra is negotiating from a position of power in E8, there was no reason for her to feel so desperate as of E3, when Rook's Rest hasn't even happened yet, that she would set aside her grief and anger and go seek peace. Peace was offered in E10 of season 1 and Rhaenyra turned it down after Luke died, so what has changed besides Rhaenyra's own husband beheading a toddler? Other events happen too and have little or no consequence. Rhaenyra and Mysaria kiss in E6 and it's entirely forgotten by E8, with zero follow up. Criston Cole is brought to his knees by the sight of Aegon lying injured by his dragon, but never even visits his bedside. Gwayne never interacts with anyone aside from Alicent and Criston. Rhaenyra sends her younger children to the Vale and never mentions them again (she is shown looking wistfully at a box of toys), nor does Jace. Laena in a vision berates Daemon for not looking after their girls, but does he ask after them when Broome shows up directly from Dragonstone? I could go on. Events just happening and then never really mattering again is a consistent problem throughout the season, which makes it hard to tell when it is happening deliberately and when it is happening because the writers can't get on the same page.

There are two things I do think are deliberate, however, one of them being the scrubbing of Viserys' image. While audiences loved Paddy's performance, a lot of viewers did pick up on how Viserys played favorites and neglected his sons, and I think when the show decided to switch up Alicent's motivation from "she wants to protect her children and knows they will face the sword if Rhaenyra comes to power" to "she misheard Viserys' last words," they knew that the natural question is, "why should she care about Viserys' last words?" A lot of the immediate feedback about that episode involved how Alicent was stupid for not knowing Otto planned to have Aegon take the throne, and a lot of people didn't think that Alicent (or Aegon for that matter) really believed that Viserys changed his mind, but apparently that was the writers' intention, that Alicent truly believed it and managed to convince Aegon (there's a lot I could say about how they could have included this deathbed misunderstanding into the plot without having it replace all of Alicent's other motivations, but they did not do that). So in order to drive home the point that the whole entire war is being fought due to this misunderstanding, they have to make sure the audience is clear that all of these characters considered Viserys a good king. Even if he was Alicent's rapist. Even if he was a deadbeat dad. Even if he was a terrible husband. We are meant to believe he chose Rhaenyra not because he was playing mindgames or out of guilt over Aemma's death, no we must believe he chose Rhaenyra because he was good and wise and to convince us he was good and wise we have to have the green characters reminding us constantly that things were so much better when Viserys was around, that Aegon is inferior to Viserys, that Viserys' wishes are all that matter. Nevermind that it goes directly against the book, never mind that it's not even a particularly powerful or interesting change, it's what enables Rhaenyra and Alicent's relationship to continue. Because here's the thing-- if Alicent put Aegon on the throne because she felt it was the only way to keep her family safe, and because she feels that law and tradition ARE on her side, and because absolutism isn't good (!!!) then there's no chance for her and Rhaenyra to ever reconcile. These are irreconcilable differences, not misunderstandings. And so the show has to glaze Viserys otherwise the basic reasoning falls apart.

And the second is the events like Luke's death, Blood and Cheese and Rook's Rest come in, events in which the greens or the blacks harm and traumatize each other directly. It is not that the greens are not allowed to hate the blacks, it is that Alicent is not allowed to hate Rhaenyra, and by extension, the people who Alicent cares about are not allowed to hate her (I would argue that Aemond is allowed to hate Luke on screen, he literally murders him, and I don't think the scene with the brothel madame is an expression of true remorse, it's more "I'm kinda sorta sorry there were consequences for my actions."). Alicent cares about Helaena the innocent, and therefore Helaena cannot be allowed to hate Rhaenyra (note Phia Saban's many interviews about how apolotical and neutral Helaena is). Aegon, on the other hand, can be affected by B&C because he is allowed to hate Rhaenyra. In fact, his hate for Rhaenyra puts him at odds with his mother, which is what the show wants. Aegon is gravely injured at Rook's Rest, but good thing Rhaenyra's forces did not cause the injuries, Alicent herself drove him to battle with cruel words, and Aemond burned him, which puts him at odds with Alicent too (and Helaena is allowed to express ire at Aemond by extension). If you look at S2 as an exercise in driving a wedge between Alicent and her family and downplaying what happens to them in order to justify their decision to have Alicent seek out Rhaenyra and surrender Aegon's life, it makes a lot more sense.

The thing is, it still doesn't work. Their efforts are much too transparent and require characters to act in ways that are simply not within the realms of how normal human beings would react to these situations, much less the characters established in S1. There is a twitter user, and I'm so sorry that I can't remember their name at the moment, but I've seen them express the sentiment several times that Alicent's character this season made them aware, in a way that a viewer should never be aware, that these are scripted lines coming out of her mouth. That is, a lot of the characters in S2 do not feel like actual people. Aegon is such a fan favorite this season because he feels real. Alicent garnered legions of fans last season because her struggle felt real, even if we didn't agree with it. She felt like a character who inhabited a quasi-medieval world, bound by restraints we are not bound by, but nevertheless a human with human reactions who had to make difficult choices and persevere through them. And any human would be angry beyond comprehension at Blood and Cheese, would lose all faith in Rhaenyra, would know that there can be no peace if she is ruling with a man that ruthless at her side. If she thinks her sons are devils (and mind, so far as king Aegon's most egregious action is executing a handful of ratcatchers after one of their number murdered his son, whereas Rhaenyra burned about 65 peasants alive in a quasi religious ecstasy-- will Alicent ever find out about that, I wonder?), they are at least the devils she knows. Better they all die than end up in Daemon's hands, surely? And so OP, you're right, they are not allowed to hate each other when naturally you, and many others, feel like they should. That is because they are writer creations who would never do such things as what happen in the books in the first place, acting out plot points of entirely different characters (their book counterparts).

#asks #aleksandravill #hotd critical #anti rhaenicent #blood and cheese #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen #team green #anti alicent hightower #(show alicent only I don't know you girl)#anti rhaenyra targaryen

145 notes · View notes

mythicmanuscripts · 5 months ago

Note

hi! omg i absolutely adore all your stuff, it's so good, and the subby!boys with wife! reader is such a perfect dynamic.

would absolutely love to see more sub!jace being clingy and teary, and not wanting you to leave him at all -- maybe he's not feeling well or is sad about something going on and all he wants is to stay in your arms.

and maybe someone walks in on you and he gets so upset because your arms are his safe space and you need to soothe and comfort him?

honestly everything you write is amazing, sub!jace is literally my new obsession <3

Oh my god I love this!!! We’re all so obsessed with clingy sensitive Jace I love it.

While my answer definitely isn’t very graphic, it is definitely sub!jace with implied sexual content so I’m gonna hide it under the cut for those who don’t want to read that :))

So I think this works best when discussing how Jace would be once he’s more comfortable? For the first two or three months he’s mostly very put together and trying to impress you and be a good husband, he wants to prove himself.

You’d only ever seen him unsettled and needy during sex and immediately after. It was always such an odd change because he’d instantly go from being polite and withdrawn and sometimes even dominant to try and show he can provide for you but then you kiss him and get a hand in his hair and instantly his knees are buckling and he’s whining into your mouth. So for a while it’s mostly Jace being put together and then when he couldn’t manage that anymore there would be brief bursts of him being very very needy.

But as he starts to get more comfortable and starts to accept that you really do love him and would never leave him for showing you his emotions, then he starts to become a lot more like that clingy version of himself all the time?

Eventually he won’t try to hide when he’s upset or stop himself from begging you to stay longer or telling you he wants to leave a public event and be alone with you. You always listen and help him and he just feels so so good because you’re his wife and his biggest support.

(By the way, this is definitely something noticed by both the rest of the castle and Rhaenyra. They all can see how as your relationship progressed Jace becomes more clingy and stays by your side, going everywhere with you and pulling you into hugs in public. At first Jace is worried how his mother will react but actually she’s just so so happy for him? She knows exactly what it’s like to be married to someone you can’t love and so she gets teary eyed every time she sees how in love and Jace are because she knows if there’s one thing she’s certainly done right, it’s making sure her son marries the love of his life and no one else.)

Anyway, I think Jace would be the most clingy and needy after he’s been without you for a while? From your wedding night onwards (and let’s be a honest a few nights before that too), he’s always slept in the same bed as you. Even when he was still trying to uphold this tough facade, he would still insist on sleeping in the same bed as you and he wouldn’t be able to sleep into you came to bed.

But unfortunately there’s a war ongoing, and that means both of you are regularly sent on missions for days and sometimes weeks at a time. Jace isn’t too bad when he’s the one being sent somewhere. Of course he really really misses you, but he knows you’re safe at the castle and will be there when he returns.

The issue is when you’re the one sent out. He understands why he can’t come with and he’d never try to tell you that you can’t do it, but damn it he hates every single second without you. He spends the entire time you’re away worrying about you. He has horrible dreams of all the different ways you could be hurt or killed, he spends hours at a time sitting on the beach just staring into the distance in hopes he may spot you. Rhaenyra always tries her best to comfort him but it’s no real help and she knows she can’t do any more.

As a result of this, when you do return I think his nerves would always be completely shot? He’s spent the entire time you were away in a perpetual state of tension and anxiety and fear and so now that you’re back it’s almost like he crashes? He knows you’re safe and his body just can’t keep him running in this state anymore.

Everyone else knows not to get in front of Jace when you return. The moment you’re within reach he’s running down to you and pulling you into the tightest hug possible. He buries his head in your neck and you can feel his shoulders shake as he cries. You tell him you’re here now, you’re back, you’re safe. Eventually he’ll collapse into you and then you have to gently push him away and wrap an arm around his waist to help him back to your shared quarters.

The first time you went on a mission after marrying Jace, some members of the council made the mistake of rushing over the moment your hug with Jace ended and started asking for updates. Jace very nearly had them killed and the only reason they’re still alive is because his mother thankfully realised what was happening and told everyone that they’d only get a debrief on your mission the next morning because she can see Jace is at the end of his rope.

He’s so shamelessly clingy for the entire evening. He never lets you out of his sight and cries if you even think about moving. He needs be with you for the entire time so that he can slowly begin to accept that you’re alright and you’re back with him.

You spend more whole time in bed with him in various states of undress. It always starts with Jace begging to undress you and be allowed to take a bath with you. At this point his motives aren’t even sexual. He wants to make sure you don’t have any injuries anywhere and because it’s been so long since he last submitted, he really wants to please you and do acts of service for you.

Of course you agree to both and he’s so so gentle.

The problem comes from whenever sometimes comes into the room. A few other councils members will always inevitably try to come in and ask you about how the trip is, but there’s also the servants and Jace gets unsettled no matter who is in the room during those times.

It takes at least an hour of cuddling before Jace will be ready to hear about what happened during your mission because first he just has to accept that you’re actually there and safe.

And good luck to anyone who opens that door because Jace will immediately cling to you and never let go. He’s been without you for far too long and you can’t just speak to someone else now. He’s your husband and for once he will use that to his advantage and demand uninterrupted times with you.

#sub!jacaerys #jacaerys valaryon x reader #jacaerys x you #hotd jacaerys #jacaerys smut #house of the dragon #jacaerys x reader #prince jacaerys #jacaerys targaryen #jacaerys velaryon #jacaerys strong #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd

143 notes · View notes

shesjustanothergeek · 3 months ago

Text

The Gods We Can Touch Chapter Eight: The Lord of the Tides

Masterlist of Series

Author's Note: Hello, everyone! I'm posting a chapter within two weeks and not a month? What sorcery is this? Anyway, thank you for staying with me through these chapters. We're getting to the juicy stuff here soon, which will be very angsty. I also want to remind everyone that this is a dark fic that deals with suicide, SA, and severe mental illness. You'll hate some of these characters and their actions and have questions about them as the story progresses, but everything has a reason, and it'll all tie together eventually. Just have faith, babes.

Chapter Warnings: misogyny, eugenics, mentions of and trauma related to COCSA, suicidal ideations, severe mental illness, self-deprecating thoughts, and sexual harassment.

The Great Hall echoed with the clamor of anxious voices. The petition summoned all the court members, seemingly attempting to embarrass your family publicly. Although hearings like these did not necessitate the presence of all the Lords and Ladies, they were all there, rendering the open space oppressively stuffy and cramped. The Iron Throne commanded attention with its imposing presence. Fashioned from the melted swords of Aegon the Conqueror’s enemies, it formed a seat that threatened anyone who ventured too close to its pointed metal surface.

Daemon was conversing with your mother, and his strong fists clasped over his stomach as he leaned in to speak into her ear. Luke stood by her side, picking at his slender fingers while cowering beneath his cloak. You felt sorry for your younger brother. He didn’t want to be the Lord of the Tides and despised the idea so much that it became a fear of the sea. Part of you believed that Jace should inherit the Driftwood Throne since he was the second-born, but your mother’s advisors pressured that if Jacaerys married you, he wouldn’t be able to rule the Seven Kingdoms and High Tide, so Luke was next in line.

Your stepsister Rhaena was seated on the other side of you and Jace. You glanced at her slender form, noticing her white hair knotted into thick, cylindrical locs piled atop her head. She nodded toward your brother, who looked at his shoes with an undignified pout. You stepped forward, wrapping an arm around Jace’s body. He tried not to show how your gentle actions comforted him in front of the onlookers, subtly leaning into your side.

The hairs on your neck prickled as if someone was watching you closely. You caught a glimpse of your eldest uncle’s sullen face meeting yours. Aegon’s looming stare was fixed on you and your connection with your brother, his lips curving into a frown. Some of you wanted to return his stare with mockery for his audacity, but you held your decorum, fearing what his anger could entail if you went too far. Years ago, you experienced his kindness, leaving an irreparable scar on your soul.

You sensed the anxiety rising at the mere thought of having to confront your eldest uncle once more. Despite six years having passed, the wounds still feel fresh. Clutching Jace tightly to your side, you battle the overwhelming temptation to seek solace within his luxurious robes as a torrent of memories came rushing back as the petition commences.

“Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds,” Otto Hightower spoke, his voice booming across the Great Hall, “we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As the Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

“The Crown will now hear the petitions.”

Aegon felt a surge of frustration as he watched you avoid making eye contact, unable to bear the sight of you being affectionate with someone else. You had been his closest ally until Aemond’s actions shattered everything. With a scowl, he directed his gaze toward the ground and decided to converse with you about the years past. The eldest Prince was resolute in his determination to make you see that he was not the one at fault.

“Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon,” the Hand spoke, announcing the challenger to the room.

The individual accountable for this incident stepped up, adorned in an opulent doublet of rich velvet in a deep navy shade, almost black. He briefly acknowledged the presence of Lord Corlys’s wife. As he drew nearer, you found yourself in the presence of Ser Vaemond for the second time in your life. His facial hair displayed a striking blend of salt and pepper, evidence of the many decades of life experience that distinguished him from you.

“My Queen,” he greeted with a nod, “my Lord Hand.” Luke visibly bristled at his Great Uncle’s voice, retreating further into his cloak and your mother’s comforting presence.

If the Gods were fair beings, they would strike Lord Vaemond down where he stood for daring to spout treasonous lies before the Court. The mere petition was a ploy to publicly embarrass and cast doubt upon your mother’s claim as heir to the Iron Throne. This was why he chose to pounce like a lion in wait for its prey onto the opportunity of his older brother getting injured. It was as if Lord Vaemond had already declared his brother dead before he returned to his bed. You were raised by a second son and understood too well of their lusts for what the eldest sibling had.

As you tightly gripped Jace’s hand, you made a solemn vow to take the necessary action, not just to protect your family but also for the greater good of your kingdom. This would be the first time you would employ your extensive knowledge of herbs and medicinal practices for a malevolent purpose, but you were willing to do whatever it took for their sake. Throughout history, many distinguished individuals have fallen victim to choking on wine or food, which has proven fatal for even those of lesser stature.

“The history of our noble houses extends past the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Old Valyria, our House became the last of their kind.” You glanced at your mother while Vaemond droned eloquently, her regard downcast with a disapproving smirk. “Our forebears came to this land, knowing they would fail; it would be the end of their bloodlines and name. I have spent my entire life defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’ closest kin, his blood,” the second son petitioned.

Out of the corner of your vision, you spotted Princess Rhaenys, her stare boring holes into the back of her good brother’s skull. Your worries that the Queen Who Never Was would not side with Luke and his claim lessened as you noted the irritation on her face, the fury at Vaemond’s claim that he had the right to be Lord of the Tides and not her, as if her rule during Corlys’ absence meant that the Driftwood Throne was not in safe hands until Luke was ready.

Otto stared at the man with a neutral expression, but his eyes betrayed his genuine emotions. Arrogance and pride shine through, revealing his bias. “It’s a true, unimpeachable blood of the House of Velaryon that runs through my veins.”

“As it does in my son’s, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon,” your mother interrupted, causing everyone in the room to direct their attention to her. “If you cared so much about your House’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and your own ambition-”

You sucked in a nervous breath, your gaze flickering to your mother as you scratched at your scalp. She knew better than to interrupt during a petition to the Crown. She would have scolded you for such an act. Perhaps since it wasn’t her father, she felt the ability to speak out of turn was appropriate. Even the daughter of the King wasn’t allowed such liberties.

“You will have a chance to make your petition, Princess Rhaenyra,” the Queen interrupted, causing your simmering vexation to spike into a rolling boil. “Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing him to be heard.”

You understood Queen Alicent’s opinion but couldn’t quell the rise of frustrated tears at her words. It was not her place to order your mother. She was a wife to the King, a consort, and whatever jurisdiction she had was given to her by a man. She held no real power, and remembering that would do her well.

As if Alicent heard your thoughts, her amber eyes flicked to you. You felt your stomach lurch as the bread you had earlier threatened to decorate the stone floor. You did not like the Queen after what she did to your mother and her obsession with you. Her possessiveness was something you never understood, nor did you want to. Whatever the Queen had twisted and distorted you to be inside her mind was not something you desired to give fruit to, disregarding her pleading looks as you focused on the Lord before you.

Ser Vaemond turned to stare smugly at Rhaenyra, continuing with his rant of blood purity and superiority. “What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, but you still wouldn’t recognize it.”

A tugging at your bell sleeve brought your attention to Jace, noting how you unconsciously scratched at your scalp. Suddenly, you realized that in the moment’s intensity with Aemond, you had dropped your headpiece in the hall. Swiftly nodding that you were all right, Jace began to stroke the back of your clenched knuckles in a silent gesture of support. Your hand had long forgotten its comforting touch as it blanched from ire.

“This is about the future and survival of my House, not yours,” Vaemond finished, staring hard at your Luke as you cringed.

Jace did not let the Lord or the three people frighten you for long, subtly shifting to block him and all other stares from view like the moat of iron spikes surrounding Maegor’s Holdfast. Why were they all looking at you? The Lords and Ladies. Alicent, Aegon, Aemond, and Helaena. You silently willed them to stop, but it was for naught.

The Lord turned from Luke, his prideful grin duller as he addressed the Queen and Hand. “This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my House and line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother’s successor,” Vaemond finally concluded, taking a few steps back, “the Lord of Driftmark, the Lord of the Tides.”

“Thank you, Ser Vaemond,” Otto concluded atop a throne that was not his as the second son gave one last grimace toward your family.

With the retreating of the Lord, you were given the perfect view of the Green children, the eldest still very much disinterested in what was happening around him, shifting on his feet as if he was itching to leave the room, which you supposed was true. The second child was attempting to dissociate from the world around her, uncomfortable with the animosity between the two houses, her golden dress the opposite of her appearance. The third and final member seemed to match his Mother and Grandsire, an air of superiority radiating from his toned body that sent shivers to your core.

“Princess Rhaenyra,” the Hand called, “you may now speak for your son, Prince Lucerys Velaryon.”

Your mother approached before the steps of the Iron Throne, her body language openly depicting her ire at the whole matter. Her complete disregard for the seriousness of the situation caused you to crack a smile, looking at Jace in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“If I am forced to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding this court that nearly twenty years ago in this very room-”

Your mother’s remarks were cut short by the creaking of hinges, the grand doors to the Great Hall opening to reveal the rhythmic tapping of a cane.

“King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of The Andals, the Roynar, The First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”

Gasps echoed through the expansive room as all eyes turned to your mother. She gazed in astonishment as her father appeared in public for the first time in years. The King of the Seven Kingdoms, half his face concealed by a golden mask, made his way across the grand throne room, causing a stir among the onlookers.

You recalled that six years ago, there was only a tiny sore on his cheek, such a minuscule gash that festered and grew to eat away at his flesh until you could see the rotting teeth within his skull. Tears pricked at your eyes as you listened to the steady tapping of your Grandsire, your heart unable to watch the hunched figure.

The Hand seemed more shocked than any. His stoic face of pride morphed into one of stunned surprise as your Grandsire made his way to the bottom steps of the Iron Throne.

“I will sit on the throne today,” the King rasped, his entire weight resting on the dragon head of his walking stick.

“Your Grace,” Otto reluctantly acknowledged, gaping wide as he took his place next to his daughter and her children.

A kingsguard quickly rushed to the side of his ruler, briefly assisting before Viserys weakly shoved him away. You couldn’t watch this—watch someone once so full of joy and love for his kin struggle to walk the stairs of his ancestors as you nestled your face into Jace’s shoulder. The sound of fallen metal echoed in the room, bringing your attention upward. Your Grandsire’s crown had fallen onto the stairs before the throne as a quiet grunt of discontent puffed past his chapped lips. Daemon was behind his brother before anyone was the wiser, assisting the last remnants of his late parents’ love to his ruling seat and placing the golden Crown of Jaehaerys on the remaining tatters of silver hair.

While you indulged in a lavish meal of quail and lamb on the breathtaking island of Dragonstone, you could aid him, but unfortunately, you were unaware of his plight. Overcome with remorse for not setting aside your troubles to support your Grandsire, you shed tears uncontrollably.

“Sister, you’re crying,” he whispered below the shell of your ear. You nodded silently, whipping away the stray water that collected on your warm cheek.

Jace knew your strong aversion to displaying any hint of vulnerability through tears. He recognized that you viewed it as a manifestation of a perceived girlish weakness that you deemed incompatible with your role as heir to the Seven Kingdoms. He felt helpless as he witnessed you, unable to offer the solace he longed to provide.

Staring at both of you with a fierce scowl across his narrow pink lips, Aemond believed you deserved to experience pain. However, he struggled with his emotions, attempting to quash the pang piercing his dark heart. Aemond envisioned himself as the unyielding pillar, braving the tumultuous waves during a tempest at sea. He saw himself as your shelter from the salty waters, ready to wipe away any tears that adorned your skin. Jacaerys was far from being a man deserving of a princess, unlike…

The Prince’s chest rumbled with a grunt of discontent as he resisted completing his thought despite knowing the truth in his heart. Upon hearing the sound, Aegon glanced at his brother with a perplexed expression and followed his line of sight with a mix of understanding and bitterness, forming a frown on his face.

“I must admit my confusion,” your Grandsire spoke, his frail voice reverberating through the high walls of the hall. “I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession.” You did not need to look at Vaemond to see his outrage. You could sense it from where you stood twenty paces away, your tears slowly drying as you gazed at the disappointed Queen. “The only one present who might offer keener insights into Lord Corlys’ wishes is the Princess Rhaenys.”

Everyone turned to the woman as she processed her cousin’s words. “Indeed, your grace,” she nodded, taking a moment to look at her brother-in-law.

Eyes followed the Queen Who Never Was as she spoke, her voice so smooth and elegant you felt envy for it at the back of your mind. “It was ever my husband’s will that Driftmark passes through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed.”

The atmosphere in the room was charged with a tumult of emotions. Anger, betrayal, shock, and relief swirled around the Great Hall like a powerful storm. Ser Vaemond was furious, deeply hurt by his good sister’s words. To him, being a true Velaryon meant everything, and he couldn’t bear the thought of his bastard nephew, born from a woman pretending to be virtuous, tarnishing his family’s name and the honor of the realm. He was resolute in his refusal to accept this situation. Vaemond’s bloodline was solid and pure, unyielding like the sea.

“Princess Rhaenyra has informed me of her desire to marry her son Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys’ granddaughters, Princess Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree.”

The speed at which your head whipped towards Jace was almost otherworldly, nearly causing you to stumble. His face reflected your shock, his mouth hanging open like a fish before he turned to glance at your mother. A serene smile graced her pink lips, and she quickly lowered her gaze while placing a protective hand over her swollen stomach.

Apart from your mother, no one else seemed to share the same sense of pride. The Queen’s expression soured even more than you thought possible, and the Hand remained stunned by the sudden turn of events as you withdrew your hand from Jace’s.

Aegon had suddenly perked up at the revelation, uncharacteristically grinning as he watched the drama unfold while Aemond observed your misfortune with barely concealed satisfaction. You couldn’t pinpoint why he had an abrupt interest in the conversation. He no doubt enjoyed the misfortune of others, even if it was his kin.

“Well,” the King spoke, his breathing now calmed, “the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides.”

The entire family breathed a sigh of relief, their shared sense of burden and responsibility slowly dissipating as they watched the weight of the future shift onto the Greens. In that moment, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of guilt for not shouldering the load yourself. Princess Rhaenys, with an almost irritated yet dignified stride, stood beside her eldest granddaughter, her presence exuding a complex mix of annoyance and pride.

Though you hadn’t moved from your spot beside your twin, you felt like a league away from him, gaping blankly at the glistening steel swords running over the steps like a river. The longer you studied them, the more they began to contort, seeing viscous crimson liquid melt down the blades. The future you had planned with your brother was impaled to the hilt.

A scoff cut through the moment of joy, your head directed to the sound. “You break the law, centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir,” Vaemond spoke, venom laced within every syllable. “But you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it.”

Your brown orbs flickered from the man to the King. “Allow it?” Viserys echoed, testing the word on his dry tongue. “Do not forget yourself, Vaemond.”

The thick, oppressive silence enveloped the scene, defying even the sharpness of Darksister’s blade. Every individual present held their breath, their anticipation palpable as they waited to witness the outcome.

“That is no true Velaryon and certainly no nephew of mine!” the second son shouted, causing everyone to jump in fright.

“Go to your chambers,” Rhaenyra ordered you and your brothers before swiftly turning her attention to Vaemond. “You have said enough.”

None of you obeyed.

“Lucerys is my true-born grandson,” your Grandsire declared. “And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark.”

“You,” Vaemond stated, taking menacing steps forward, “may run your House as you see fit, but you will not decide my future. My House survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides.”

He turned to your family, feet firmly planted with the grip on his longsword. Your look stared fire at his, jaw clenched as he spat his vitriol. “And Gods be damned, I will not see it end on account of this…”

You arched your head to the side, eyes widening in defiance as you silently urged him to speak the words that yearned to escape his lips. However, he disregarded you, considering you nothing more than a mere girl in a world dominated by men, a lost cause. You resolved to shed any lingering guilt about your intentions at that moment.

“Say it,” Daemon’s soft and menacing timbre whispered.

Onlookers scrutinized with bated breath as Vaemond considered his words, his gaze flickering from your father to you, Jace, your mother, and Luke. A sneer slowly pulled his lips, righting his posture as he bellowed.

“Her children are bastards!”

You inhaled a near-inaudible growl from your throat as you took a charged step forward, only to be yanked back by Jace before you could do something you would regret. Soft murmurs sounded, the Greens all sharing the same look of begrudging disappointment. Jace seemed just as furious as you, his lips curling into a snarl.

“And they,” he glared at you, then at your mother, his jaw tensing, “are whores.”

Your gaze immediately flicked to Aegon and then Aemond, your body independently moving as the crowd gasped. Aemond’s eye was no longer bright purple but a near black, shining like dragonglass shards. Despite this window into his soul, his outward appearance reached an unusual sereness. Thin lips parted as you noticed the faintest twitch, a tic you realized indicated his rage.

“You have said your piece, Lord Vaemond,” Queen Alicent declared, fists humbly clasped over her clothed emerald green stomach. “The king has affirmed his decision, and you will do well to respect it without saying lies about the young princess.”

Did people know of what happened between you and Aegon and that of your brother?

They couldn’t have. You took steps to ensure your image to the public aligned with their ideals. You studied in the Citadel, for Seven’s sake! Your mind raced with the possibility of your secrets being discovered, the chance that the realm would know of your sins before marriage. At the time, it did not seem to be a mistake as you and Jace believed you would be married, but now, just as it seemed like all things did, it slipped through your fingers like the sand that lined the shores of Blackwater Bay.

Aemond watched as you mindlessly attempted to run toward Vaemond like a combat-trained man. He thought it would be entertaining to watch you claw the Velaryon Lord’s eyes out and contemplated in admired silence how reckless you could become when enraged, wondering how far that wrath would take you.

You were unable to hear the sound of raised voices expressing articles of treason, threats of violence, and the unsheathing of a sword until you felt blood splatter on your cheekbone, seeing the sliced head of Vaemond Velaryon laying a few paces from your feet. Jace pulled your face to his chest as you gasped in shock, clutching his arms like he was the only thing keeping you grounded in this moment of grotesque insanity.

“He can keep his tongue,” Daemon declared, looking at the limp corpse below.

Studying his uncle in brief awe, Aemond’s violet eye flickered from the decapitated corpse to that of the assailant. He moved to see Jace’s feeble attempt at protecting you from the gore that lay leaking into the stones, mouth curling in disdain as he scoffed. Your brother was to be the one to protect you from harm, physical or emotional, yet he was incapable of doing that.

Momentarily, Aemond thought of coming to your side, knowing that he was a worthy enough man to be what you needed, and if not that, then only to spite Jacaerys. He shook the fleeting thought away with a grunt, scorn filling his heart.

“Disarm him!” The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard yelled, his fellow members drawing their weapons.

You chose who you thought worthy that night on Driftmark when you stood by idly as Luke ripped his eye from the socket.

“No need,” your stepfather cooly protested, wiping the blood of his kin from his blade and exiting the room.

Your eyes could not leave the bleeding form of Vaemond Velaryon, the top half of his dreaded white hair discarded as the crimson liquid pooled around him. Viserys groaned above, collapsing onto the Iron Throne like a sack of bones from the effort of living. Alicent and your mother ran to his aide.

“Niece.”

You expected to see Aemond come and continue his taunts from before, but instead, you saw Aegon standing before you, his square face etched with worry. You would have thought him handsome had he not done what he did and become the man he had become as you merely stared at him, your mind blank and body numb.

How could he show you such concern, knowing how much pain he caused you? What could you say to him after everything that transpired? After he effectively distorted the pure view of your world into betrayal and anguish. He most likely wanted to use you as he did to the maids of the Keep. You thought you might as well let him. That was how you felt now that the one man you willingly gave your body to with the expected outcome of marriage was bound to another. That same disgusting sensation you had the following days after your assault came rushing back as if you were that scared little girl again.

You did not want to feel that weak again and parted your lips to speak the venom he deserved to hear. Suddenly, you found your throat too dry as you swallowed the air instead. Aegon extended a hand to yours in what you believed to be a comforting gesture, fingers brushing each other as terror surged through your limbs.

Your sights glanced at the corpse as the hilt of Vaemond’s sword glinted in the light. You could end this here and now. End the torment. End the constant uncertainty that would be your mother’s secession. Your demise would be of no consequence.

“Sister,” Jace called, his tone clipped and brown eyes wide. The same eyes you had looking back at you. “Mother wants us in our chambers to prepare for supper.”

You recoiled as if your limb was scorched when you swiftly pulled it away from Aegon. With a curt nod to your twin, you allowed him to take you. Walking out of the Great Hall, you made a conscious effort not to glance back, keenly aware of the intensity of Aegon’s piercing stare as it followed the contours of your womanly form. You were sure that this encounter wouldn’t be the last, and the prospect of it propelled you to seek solace in the comforting embrace of your twin.

The twilight had descended upon King’s Landing, casting the city in a hazy glow. Despite the late hour, the flagstone streets teemed with activity as revelers roamed for company, their laughter mingling with the clinking of coins. Meanwhile, you found yourself clutching a goblet of fiery spirits, hoping to steady your frayed nerves as you sat between your imposing eldest uncle and your sweet twin.

The dining hall exuded an air of palpable tension, with hushed conversations among family members punctuating the room as servants bustled about, preparing for the day’s last meal. Everyone waited in quiet anticipation for the arrival of the King, their faces adorned with joyous and restrained smiles, marking the festivities of new beginnings. However, amidst this atmosphere of hopeful anticipation, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of disquiet. In mere hours, it seemed as though everything you had worked for was unraveling before your eyes.

You were intended to enter into matrimony with Jace just as Visenya married her younger brother Aegon. As twins, you shared an unbreakable bond, with one heart and one soul inhabiting two bodies. No other individual in existence was as ideally suited for you.

As you watched your brothers’ interactions with their betrothed, you couldn’t help but notice the sour expression on your face. Each brother was dutiful and respectful, engaging in hushed conversations with their betrothed about the future and what it might hold. You felt a mix of confusion and offense as you pondered why Jace had swiftly embraced being bound to another after spending years with you as his unspoken wife.

Your eyes locked with Aemond’s from across the opulent room as he conversed with his brother, a sly smirk on his lips. He seemed to revel in your displeasure at taking your brother from you. With an exasperated sigh, you leaned back in your ornate high chair, surveying the sumptuous spread of food before you, each dish tempting you with its rich aromas and vibrant colors.

Growing increasingly impatient for your Grandsire’s arrival, you couldn’t resist the allure of a plump, purple grape sitting on the nearby platter. As you reached for it, your mother reprimanded you.

The air was heavy with the scent of wine as you had already consumed three cups before the arrival of the King, his face wearing a grim expression. Your Grandsire was brought into the grand hall, seated on a makeshift throne, and everyone in the room rose in respect for his position. His crown, a symbol of his authority, had been long forgotten as he was placed between the Queen and your mother. You noticed sores on him that you hadn’t seen before, standing out more prominently in the grandeur of the dining hall. The sight made your eyes prickle with the threat of tears, and your stomach churned with unease.

Despite being seated, he leaned heavily onto his cane, the weight of his extravagant Targaryen robes bearing down on his frail body. You fought back tears, refusing to show any vulnerability in front of those who held little respect for you.

“This is an occasion of celebration, it seems. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, will marry their cousins Baela and Rhaena, further strengthening the bond between our Houses,” your grandfather began, a thick rasp to his voice. “A toast to the young Princes and their betrothed. May you find yours yet, granddaughter.”

You sat there, forcing back your tears and lifting your glass as the joyful cheers filled the room. The dreams you had shared with Jace seemed to shatter with each sip of wine. Despite the celebratory atmosphere, Jace’s fleeting smile towards Baela deepened your sense of loss. It wasn’t their engagement that bothered you, but rather the uncontrollable circumstances that had brought it about. Still, some of you couldn’t help but resent the pair.

A sudden rancid sweetness wafted into your nose as you saw Aegon lean over you, wrapping his hand around the back of your chair and whispering to your twin.

“Well done, Jace. You’ll finally get to lie with a woman,” he teased with a lopsided grin. You observed him with wide eyes that danced from your uncle to your twin, hyper-aware of every breath and twitch of his limbs.

Jace stiffened beside you as he clenched his fist atop the table, barely containing his ire. It was only a matter of time before he lost his patience. You saw his hand move to connect with yours like always when he was stressed, but you moved to place it on your lap, instinctively turning your face away from his.

“It seems your twin doesn’t share the same sentiment,” Aegon softly declared so only the two of you could hear, lips moving into a downward smirk as he watched the silent dispute between siblings, victoriously sitting upright in his seat.

“Let us toast Prince Lucerys as well. The future Lord of the Tides,” your Grandsire continued as you felt the touch of another. Your posture became stiff as Aegon’s fingers wrapped around yours in a vice-like grip, no doubt only to spite Jace as you struggled to break free without causing attention.

Taking advantage of the momentary quiet, your eldest uncle mocked Jace again, moving your hand so he could see it. “You do know how the act is done, I assume? At least in principle. Where to put your cock and all that?”

Rage welled inside your chest at Aegon’s words, and you feared as you looked into your brother’s eyes that he would spill your affairs in anger. Without thinking of appearances, you dug your nails into Aegon’s hand, causing him to yelp as he released you.

“You can play the jester as you wish, but hold your tongue before my betrothed,” Jace noiselessly snapped in return as your uncle hummed in acquiescence, cradling his injured hand and wounded pride.

Aemond’s eye was trained on the scene before him as he intently observed the three of you. His face remained a practiced impassivity; the only sign of his inner emotions was his finger wrapping on the table. Aemond took a sip of his wine to disguise his chuckle. His brother should know better than to test you. Even as children, you were not one to take things idly.

“It both gladdens my heart,” the King spoke, his voice straining without much effort, “and fills me with sorrow to see these faces around the table, the faces most dear to me in all the world.” Viserys looked toward his left, your mother, stepfather, and brothers in his sight. Your hand gripped the stem of your glass, ignoring the heated glares from across the table. “We’ve grown so distant from each other in years past.”

You forced yourself to hide the scoff at his words, taking another long drink. And why would that be? Perhaps it was because of the Queen’s unwavering grudge against your mother that festered into a hatred of her mere existence, his son raping you at such a young age you didn’t understand what it was, or the permanent injury of a young boy that never received the justice he deserved.

Viserys paused his speech, wheezing and supporting his weight on the table as a hand came to remove his mask. The sight was nothing you could have imagined. The space where his bright purple eye should be was a hollow hole of partially healed and rotting flesh. The wound on his cheek had eaten away at the skin and muscle, revealing his decaying grey teeth.

“My face is no longer handsome if it ever was.” Phlegm was stuck within your Grandsire’s throat, creating an almost repulsive noise as he spoke. “Tonight, I wish you to see me as I am. Not just a king, but your father...”

Aegon met the regards of a man who was his father only in name. His glare was dark, filled with anger you had never seen before, yet Aemond couldn’t bear to look at what he became—his father’s desperation, his mouth curling into a sneer.

Pain radiated suddenly from your lap, stare snapping to see your eldest uncle’s hand unexpectedly gripping your thigh, his digits digging into the flesh. It was in retaliation as you attempted to pry him off, but it was useless as Aegon secured his grip, no doubt leaving bruises in his wake. You bit your lip, concealing the painful scowl that curled your lips and arched your brows. It was hard to focus on anything other than your skin aching to be free of your body, not wanting to cause a scene.

“...who may not walk for much longer among you. Let us no longer hold your feelings in your hearts. The Crown cannot stand strong as long as the House of The Dragon remains divided.”

Aemond’s single violet eye turned to you, your stares locking with thousands of unsaid emotions, unsaid truths as you fidgeted, trying in vain to remove Aegon.

“Set aside your grievances!” Viserys declared passionately, startling those at the table and causing you to break your revere momentarily. “If not for the sake of the Crown, then for the sake of this old man who loves you all so dearly.”

Silence fell across the table as the King stumbled into his seat, the metal of his mask and cutlery clanging as Alicent dutifully came to his aid. Your mother stood abruptly, not giving the room to process the King’s words as her chair scraped against the stone floor. With a goblet in her hand, all eyes turned to her.

“I wish to raise my cup to her grace, the Queen,” she started, her eyes downcast. You watched your mother skeptically, brown orbs flickering from her to Alicent. “I love my father, but I must admit no one has stood more loyally by his side than his good wife.”

The Queen stared at her old friend, so full of emotions. Years of harbored pain and resentment from events you did not know, bleeding from her chest and onto her finely tailored green dress.

“She has tended to him with unwavering devotion, love, and honor; for that, she has my gratitude. And my apology,” your mother concluded, returning to her seat.

You felt like you were intruding on an intimate moment between lost lovers, the happy moments of their history flashing before each of their minds’ eyes. Turning to Aemond again, you realized he did not remove his stare from you. His ametrine eye was a glassy pool, yet his face was stoic to everyone. You were sure you mirrored him, though you were not as skilled at hiding emotions, your chin slightly quivering.

“Your graciousness moves me deeply, Princess. We’re both mothers, and we love our children. We have more in common than we allow,” Alicent confessed, her voice barely stuttering. “I raise my cup to you and your House. You’ll make a fine Queen.”

Otto’s disapproving stare did not go unnoticed by you, and Aemond reflected on his expression. Each person raised their goblets individually, taking sips in honor of their current and future Queen.

Aegon threw his drink back twice, going for a third time, but stopped once he caught sight of you. Droplets of Arbor Gold slipped past your lips, and you lurched forward to see the liquid before it ran down to the aperture of your chest. The Prince swallowed audibly, his throat clicking as his trousers grew tight.

Memories from your childhood of meals spent with your eldest uncle where he would wipe whatever remnants you had on your mouth came flooding to mind. You realized then that these gestures were not ones of kindness but a sick, disgusting act that he used to groom you and take pleasure from. Gripping the pristine knife that rested atop the fine mahogany table, you dreamed of having his blood spewing from between his lips as you plunged it into his neck.

Taking another swig of your wine, you felt nothing but dry air hit your moist tongue. Aegon noticed it, smiling in an almost feline nature as he took the glass from you.

“Worry not, niece. May your mouth never run dry in my presence,” he declared and went to the pitcher between Baela and Jace. “I regret the disappointment you will soon suffer,” you heard him whisper into your cousin’s ear. “But if you wish to know what it is to be well satisfied, all you have to do is ask.”

The clatter of cutlery sliced through the air as your brother stood, all eyes turning to him. You tried to placate Jace as he clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white and ignoring your kind touches. Everyone watched with keen eyes as on the other end of the table, Aemond stood, seeming to size up with your brother like a cat arching its spine. Placing your cup of wine in front of you, Aegon sat, dragging his fingertips across your neck and making you shudder in disgust.

Realizing that Jace had captured the attention of everyone surrounding the table, he cleared his throat, stalling for time. You glanced at him with an uneasy feeling, looking back to Aemond as he refused to sit.

“To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond. We have not seen each other in years, but I have fond memories of our shared youth,” Jace began, and you struggled to keep your incredulous expression at bay. “And as men, I hope we may be friends and allies. To you and your families, good health, dear uncles.”

He concluded the toast as he and the rest raised their cups to their worried lips. Playfully, albeit awkwardly, Jace punched your eldest uncle in the shoulder as you struggled to keep your laughter at bay, sinking your teeth into your lip.

“To you as well,” Aegon begrudgingly replied, and you flicked a mocking look at him. He refused to meet you.

The screech of a chair sounded in the dining hall, and you turned your head to see your sweet Aunt Helaena abruptly standing with her cup in hand. “I would like to make a toast to Baela and Rhaena. They will be married soon. It isn’t so bad. He mostly ignores you, except sometimes when he’s drunk.”

Daemon’s chuckle pierced through the unease, the three full goblets of wine gone to your head as you stifled one of your own, hiding it behind your digits. Aegon refused to meet anyone’s gaze, finding his half-eaten plate much more interesting than the people before him. Helaena looked to you for support, ensuring that what she said was good as you smiled. You forgot how much you cared for your aunt and admired her thinly veiled jab at Aegon’s lack of duties.

Supper commenced, and you wasted no time feasting, eating the savory vegetables cooked in butter and smothered in rich spices. Smoked cheeses, both hard and soft, found their way to your plate, nearly moaning at their hearty combination with slices of meat. The frigid environment from before left and was replaced with the warmth of laughter and music. Even the old King himself wore a smile on his cracked grey lips.

You ignored the piercing regard burning your face, focusing on your mother and stepfather. Daemon whispered something into your mother’s ear, gently grasping her lithe fingers as she giggled, and a blush bloomed. The sight caused an ache to rise in your chest. The hollowness of your heart knocked on your ribs. You longingly desired to find a love like theirs. Your brother was stolen from you to secure all your inheritances, and while you understood it, nothing could make the hurt lessen.

Ignoring the fist cinching around your lungs, you downed your half-empty goblet of Arbor Gold, summoning a servant to refill it. You did not want to feel like this anymore—the ache, the throbbing in your head and heart. It was too much to bear. In the times of your melancholia, days were spent with a swirling storm of thoughts and memories of your childhood in the Keep—the bullying, your rape, to that of Driftmark filled with blood and boyish screams. They plagued your mind like a disease, culturing into an amalgamation of sadness, rage, guilt, self-mutilation, and isolation until you no longer wanted to live.

Jace rose from his seat with a groan from the wood and excused himself from his betrothed. You thought he might offer you a dance; he knew how much you loved to do so, but the idea sank like the food past your lips as he went to Helaena, extending a hand. Aegon stared at the pair as they went to the open space, his face one of surprise as you brought your cup to your lips, swallowing a smirk. It served him right. His treatment of Helaena, or lack thereof, was appalling. Though he may not be in a marriage of love, she was still his sister and the dreamy-eyed Princess deserved more.

A glimmer of gold suddenly drew your gaze, jolting you from contemplation. Viserys' magnificent mask gleamed in the flickering candlelight, his head tilting to one side as he visibly battled a wave of pain. Without hesitation, Queen Alicent signaled for the guards to accompany him back to his chambers. You observed with a concerned expression trailing behind as they carefully took the ornate wooden throne out of the grand dining hall.

You caught Aemond’s gaze. It was impossible not to as it flicked from Helaena dancing to you. He looked like a barely concealed storm about the burst, as if he debated whether to slit your throat because of your existence or continue what he had started in the corridor. Your uncle had changed so much within six years that you didn’t recognize him, and you supposed it was the same for you. Two people who grew so close were suddenly torn apart by an unfinished tragedy where anger was left to decay until its rot took control.

You worried that things would never be able to be put aside like your Grandsire wished if this wall of silence and grudges was not destroyed. Hate between your families would stay the same and cause the successful usurpation of your mother’s rightful throne. Deciding to swallow your pride and hurt, you stood, wanting to extend the broken branch of goodwill to Aemond, but Aegon refused to let you move. His arm pushed you back down into your seat with a look that sent tears of shocked terror into your eyes. You felt helpless under his gaze as a thinly veiled look of madness replaced a toothy grin gleaming in the candlelight.

“Won’t you give the courtesy of a dance, niece?” he asked with a dangerous lilt that hinted at something more. There was no room for refusal as he hoisted you from your chair. This was undoubtedly a jab at Jace for inviting Helaena as you watched your twin halt his movements.

Ever since Aegon was a boy, he has been awful when sharing what he thinks is his. You recalled the many times you would ask to play with his wooden toys only to get smacked in the head with it or worse. It was as comforting as it was unnerving that parts of him were still the same.

Eyes flicking at Aemond, you pleaded for him to stand and make good on his promise to protect you from your eldest uncle, but he remained still, unmoving like the statues you compared him to. You were right here, mere steps away and by his side. He could insert himself and put an end to Aegon’s torture. After all, you would be indebted to him if he did, and what more could Aemond possibly desire than to have his bastard niece that he so despises at his mercy?

“Aemond still hates you for what Luke did,” Aegon softly declared as you moved your attention to him. “I’m not. My ire is directed at those who caused this hatred to fester between us. You and I were friends once.”

“Indeed, once. ‘Twas long ago now,” you quipped with venom like the pit vipers in Dorne.

Your uncle was a skilled dancer despite the plethora of alcohol he drank, twirling you with a grace you did not possess as you stumbled from nerves and firewater. Aemond did not know where to focus, gaze flicking from Helaena and Jace to you and Aegon so fast that he felt disoriented. He didn’t understand why he was so concerned. It wasn’t like he could do anything to separate you and his brother without acquiring Aegon’s jests hours later, yet he couldn’t control his anxiety as his finger nervously tapped the wooden table.

Bringing you close as you tripped, Aegon pressed your body against his as you felt the real reason behind his words, swaying to the music that made you want to scream and pull your hair from its roots.

“Things could return to how they were before. We could ride our dragons together, visit far-off lands, and spend our days in the Godswood eating those orange cakes you like. We’d be friends and even more so. Would that not be splendid?” the eldest Prince suggested with a grin.

There was nothing for you to do but endure this for the sake of appearances as you caught sight of a pair of amber eyes watching you, a slight upturn to her plump lips. Queen Alicent knew what her son did to you yet observed with a smile that you could interpret as one of maternal love. It enraged you. She was no better than her son. You hated her beyond words for the times you ever thought of her more than another Lord who cared not for the struggles of women.

Aemond no longer held his attention on you but that of Jace and Helaena, seeming to be unbothered by your childhood rapist and bully putting his hands in places that would be a sin. He would not save you now. It was up to you to defend yourself once more.

“You ended whatever smidge of camaraderie we had when you debased me at the top of Maegor’s battlements,” you spat as you moved away from him, only for Aegon to bring you back into another elegant dance. The Prince rolled his purple eyes, the indigo circles underneath them becoming prominent.

“We seem to have different recollections of that night,” he exasperatedly sighed as if you were nothing more than a child bothering their parents with unfounded fears. “I recall how we as children laughed and drank beside each other and how you said, yes, as I slipped my hand betwixt your thighs.”

Gasping, you shoved Aegon away as his hands traveled past your navel, suddenly hearing a chair screech in response. Aemond stood with his body squared toward the two of you as the room went silent. All twelve faces turned to him. You stared with bated breath as Aegon slipped his hand across your back, returning to his chair and taking a nonchalant sip of his drink.

Would Aemond finally stand against Aegon for all the wrong he committed to the both of you?

Pleading wordlessly, your body flushed as he stared unabashedly, tears of intensity pricking your eyes. The light of hope inside your chest was snuffed out as the servants brought a roasted pig onto the table. Luke could not contain his immature giggles as it was placed before Aemond, reminding him of the cruel jape he, Aegon, and Jace did. Whatever anger Aemond felt at his older brother soon turned into one of injustice for what Luke did all these years ago. You thought your younger brother knew better than this and sighed in defeat, all prospects of an amiable future between the Greens and Blacks disintegrating.

“Final tribute,” Aemond began, a lethal sway to his words. “To the health of my niece and nephews. Jace, Luke, Joffrey, and the Gods’ Light.” Your uncle’s single eye traveled to each of you, a stare so severe you felt yourself recoil inside of your being as you ran an unconscious hand through your scalp. “Each of them is handsome, wise, virtuous, and…”

Aemond stuttered as he came to you, making the fatal mistake of losing himself within the depths of your comforting irises. He could see the water collecting at your lashes as your eyes turned into murky pools, threatening to drown him if he stared for a moment longer. He directed his attention at Luke, his ire becoming apparent as memories of your brothers and Aegon’s laughs bounced off the Dragonpit walls, soon turning into screams and red covering his vision. He felt the pain of losing an eye as if it was happening again and tightened his fist around his goblet, forcing the pain to fuel his rage.

“And strong,” Aemond concluded as you released a disappointed sigh, focusing on anything but your uncle. “Come! Let us drain our cups to these four strong children.”

You understood what he was trying to do without speaking. His hurt was so fierce that it blinded all sense, leading him to react rashly. Aemond was forcing you to choose between your family and your affection for him, a situation that the Prince knew would play out as before. You knew what was expected of you; it was the same as last time. You would always choose your family over him. Duty was a sacrifice; you must sacrifice the memories of a bright-eyed boy with freckled cheeks and a love for reading and stolen kisses. The Aemond was no longer there, and you needed to accept that.

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace proclaimed, his chin held high and shoulders back. Your brother was ever the picture of a strong king, sending a warmth to your heart that was crushed with reality.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment. Do you not think yourself strong?” Aemond jabbed back as your head snapped to him. He could make whatever cruel taunts he desired at you but would not bring your brother into this.

“A man lies dead for spouting such lies. What do you think will happen to you?” you snapped a vicious clip to your words. Before Aemond could respond, your brother stormed to him without a second thought, chest to chest, as his fist slammed across Aemond’s cheek.

Gasping in surprise, you went to the two of them as you saw Luke’s face become one with a plate of food, hesitating for a moment until your twin was shoved to the ground. You marched toward Aemond with fire in your veins and an intent to harm as shouts erupted from your mother and Queen Alicent for everyone to stop. You all ignored them, Aegon swiftly coming behind you, lifting and swinging you by the waist as if you were no more than a doll. Jace tried to reach for you, but your uncle spun around, giggling in your ear at your attempts to break free as you became nauseous.

You realized this was all a joke to Aegon. He truly did not understand that what he did to you as children was wrong.

Aegon couldn’t hide the excitement in his stomach at having you so close once more as you squirmed in his hold, burying his nose into your neck with a grin. He wondered if you would writhe like this if he had you naked between his bedsheets.

Soon, the guards draped in metal armor and red robes pulled Jace and Luke away from their uncles as Aegon came face to face with Daemon. Unlike Aemond, your eldest uncle was not one to challenge others to fisticuffs as his laughter ceased. Your stepfather need only to flash your uncle a look for him to let you go, raising his arms in surrender as Daemon observed you to ensure you weren’t hurt.

“Why would you say such a thing before these people?” you heard Queen Alicent hotly scold Aemond, looking behind his lithe shoulder to where your mother held your body close to hers.

Scoffing, your uncle cocked his head, staring down at his mother with a challenging look. “I was merely expressing my pride in my family, mother. Though it seems my niece and nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs,” he enunciated pointedly, glancing to where the three of you were restrained.

“I’ll cut out your tongue!” you shouted as Jace broke free from the guards, coming behind you in support. Daemon halted you in your tracks, his touch gentle yet firm as he placed a hand on your arm. As you paused to regain your composure, you couldn’t help but notice the deep creases on his forehead, a sign of his genuine concern. You shrugged off his touch, refusing to succumb to paternal overtures because he intervened when Aegon was rough with you.

Your mother looked to the floor, a dejected expression on her porcelain features you couldn’t understand before she spoke to the three of you. “Go to your quarters. All of you, now.”

As you and Jace made your way out, you couldn’t help but notice the tense standoff between Daemon and Aemond. Your stepfather, casually leaning on his hips with one hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, exuded an air of calculated confidence.

Standing in the doorway, you felt a flutter of anxiety in your heart, wondering what would unfold between the two men. You were curious to know if the two Targaryen men decided to brawl and whether you would go to your uncle or stepfather. There was a palpable sense of anticipation as Daemon glanced at where you stood, expressing a knowing look deep within his lilac eyes. He had already sent one person’s loved one to the Stranger. What was one more?

Sharing a look of frustration from you to your stepfather, Aemond grunted in displeasure, following your steps out of the dining hall. Jace checked himself into your shoulder as he forced you forward, refusing to let you dwell on the scene behind you.

Masterlist of Series

Spotify Playlist

I know we're upset with Aemond's behavior, but it'll make that character arch much sweeter. We can only have the enemies-to-lovers trope with them being enemies first! I feel bad for the poor MC. First, she's forced to return to the scene of a traumatic experience, forced to see her rapist, and then finds out the man she thought she was going to marry her whole life is engaged to someone else! Baby girl is going through it. Let's get this girl some therapy. (⁠｡⁠•́⁠︿⁠•̀⁠｡⁠)

We're starting to see how Aegon and Alicent might have begun to harbor some unhealthy traits regarding our reader. Don't worry. It'll get much worse from here on out! Thank you so much for reading!

Tagged Peeps: @millies0bsimp , @britt-mf , @marvelescvpe , @haikyuusboringassmanager , @discofairysworld , @lottiemsgf , @nessjo , @fiction-fanfic-reader , @qvnthesia , @hotvillianapologist , @p45510n4f4shi0n , @theendlessvoidofdarkest , @readerselegance , @gothamgurl2024 , @aleemendoza2425-blog , @vaylint , @ln8118 , @prettyduckling22 , @primroseluna , @baybaybear1

135 notes · View notes