#i. ELAENA TARGARYEN ` — event.

[dynasteid]

the princess is dressed as the moon , mysterious and silver -- surrounded by brilliant stars . her mask is silver and intricate , detailed by one of the finest craftsman in the land . the only jewelry she wears are a series of iron choker type necklaces around her throat and one which dips lower than the other's . a gift from the king .

[sansaorgana]

— SISTER'S CHOICE

BROKEN OATH (AU)

PAIRING — Ser Gwayne Hightower x fem!Reader // Princess Elaena Targaryen (OC)

SUMMARY — You manage to escape Oldtown after fifteen years of marriage to Ser Gwayne Hightower in order to join your sister Rhaenyra in the upcoming war. Despite the oath given to Rhaenyra, you struggle to be away from your husband and children. Things complicate when you meet Gwayne in the battlefield.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — It’s written from the Reader’s perspective but she is a Targaryen and Rhaenyra's younger sister. I did not describe any of her body or face features except for that she has silver hair, lilac eyes and her name is Elaena. The story is quite long already so I haven't described the beginnings of Reader/Elaena with Gwayne or her childhood – you can find them in the "Broken Oath" fanfic (link above), which is an AU of this one (or this one is an AU of "Broken Oath" 🙈). Canon events are treated very loosely here for the purpose of the plot (Rook's Rest for example).

WARNINGS — Reader/Elaena is responsible for the deaths in the battlefield & if you're Team Black you might be unhappy about the ending (+ I don't like Daemon and it shows, sorry)

WORD COUNT — 9,930 (💀)

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

SISTER'S CHOICE

It was quite a long trip from Oldtown to Dragonstone but you hadn’t made any stops and now both you and your dragon were exhausted. The sun was slowly rising when you arrived but you had a weird feeling deep in your guts – some sort of anxiety – before seeing your sister after fifteen years. How would you even greet her now? What would you say? That fear alone was stopping you from landing.

Eventually, you spotted a few people looking out for you from the castle. They had to be wondering what were you doing, circling around Dragonstone without clear intentions. After spotting your sister’s long silver hair in the wind, you decided to order Onyx to land on the sandy beach and you waited for someone to come out and greet you.

Sighing, you looked around and breathed in the fresh air. It felt so odd to be out of Oldtown – you hadn’t left it in fifteen years. Not even once. You had grown so used to it that you nearly missed it now. You certainly missed your children. They had to slowly wake up now and you wondered what your husband would tell them about your sudden absence.

Would they understand? Would they grow up to hate you? They were only children, you couldn’t expect them to comprehend the complicated situation of the upcoming war, the delicacy of your family’s relations. And what kind of mother abandoned her children like that? Perhaps it was true what they were saying about The Targaryens – just like dragons they rode, they were difficult to tame. Even an obedient and dutiful Princess like you still had fire and blood running through her veins.

Finally, you spotted your sister and a few of her guards walking towards you. You took off the hood of your cloak and petted nervous Onyx to calm her down. 

“Sister,” Rhaenyra greeted you and you hurried to her side, leaving your dragon behind you. You gave her an anxious smile as your eyes scanned hers carefully.

She had grown older those past fifteen years but you couldn’t help a feeling that she had grown sadder, too. Either way, she was still your sister but also your Queen now.

“You came, Elaena,” Rhaenyra smiled at you nervously.

“My Queen,” you bowed down and the hood of your cloak fell onto your head again. Rhaenyra chuckled at that and approached you to fix it.

“It is green,” she pointed out while caressing the fabric of your cloak when you two were face-to-face now. Then, her fingers moved down to the golden clasp, which was The Hightower emblem.

“Forgive me,” you unclasped the cloak and let it fall down on the sand. “I am here now, by my sister’s side,” you told her.

“Come, we’ll make space for Onyx in the dragonpit,” Rhaenyra smiled at your dragon and tilted her head a little. “She’s as big as Caraxes now, do you know?”

You were surprised. You had no idea that your young and small dragon had grown so big. It was also unexpected that it had happened in Oldtown where Onyx had been alone and you had not been flying on her often either. She had been spoiled with sheep and your affection but that would be it, really. Other than that, she had been pretty bored there.

“I am glad,” you smiled at your sister. You wanted to take her by her arm but something was stopping you – some invisible barrier between you two and it was not because she was The Queen, no. 

She had always been your father’s heir to you anyway. You had gotten used to the fact that Rhaenyra was your superior. The barrier was caused by the fifteen years apart. Despite knowing it was your sister, despite sharing the same blood, the same silver hair, the same lilac eyes – it was a stranger walking down the beach with you.

“Why did you come?” Rhaenyra asked, genuinely. The guards left you behind and watched Onyx fly up again to rest in the dragonpit after the long journey.

“You need dragons and dragonriders in the upcoming war with Aegon,” you answered, a little surprised as if you couldn’t understand why she had even asked that. It was obvious, after all.

“You loved him when he was a babe, did you not?” Rhaenyra smiled gently.

“I love him still, just like I love you – and to you I have sworn my loyalty,” you answered.

“Haven’t you sworn it to your husband, too, on your wedding day?” She kept inquiring and you grew uncomfortable with that. You didn’t want her to mention Gwayne because you were trying your hardest not to think of him.

“Are you suspecting I might be my father-in-law’s spy?” You suddenly turned your head around to look deep into her eyes. “If so, you hurt me deeply.”

“I would never suspect that!” Rhaenyra gasped and held your wrist to squeeze it assuringly. “You have been telling me in your letters that your marriage is a good one, that you love your children dearly. And now you are here, with me,” she pointed out.

“The war is coming,” you only shook your head.

Hadn’t she been expecting you to come and join her? In her letter, you had read that between the lines and now she was shocked to see you? When she had been asking for your loyalty and for remembering your oath… What had she been exactly expecting?

However, you had no opportunity to continue this conversation because you reached the castle and your uncle Daemon was waiting there with a very unpleasant expression on his face.

At first, your heart swelled in your chest at the sight of him. You wanted to run up to him and greet him like back in the old days when you had been a young girl and he would bounce you on his knee. But you froze at the sight of him eyeing you up and down as if you were an intruder.

“What does she want?” He asked Rhaenyra and you swallowed thickly at that tone of his voice.

“She is my sister, Daemon. She came to support me,” Rhaenyra explained.

“And you believe her?” Daemon whispered but you could hear him perfectly well.

“I can hear you, Uncle,” you nodded at him and he shot you a cold glance.

“That is King Consort to you. We don’t trust Hightower cunts here,” he drawled out.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra scolded him and you were standing there, petrified.

You were not used to being treated this way. In Oldtown you were a Lady of the town – every man was bowing his head at you, they were showing you nothing but respect and your own Lord Husband would challenge Daemon this very moment if he had heard or seen the way you were treated.

But your Lord Husband was not here because you had abandoned him to join your sister. Your sister – not Daemon. So, you held your head high and clenched your jaw at him.

“I am Princess Elaena Targaryen,” you introduced yourself to him in case he had somehow forgotten. “Lady Hightower, to you, dear Uncle. Lady of Oldtown,” you added even though the last title was not technically yours yet as long as your father-in-law was alive but you had been ruling the city in his name alongside your husband for fifteen years now and everyone called you that.

Daemon, however, found your titles somehow funny. He chuckled at you.

“Onyx has grown, Daemon,” Rhaenyra informed him. There was a hint of harshness in her voice that made shivers go down your spine. Something deeply disturbing was going on between them and you had a feeling her marriage was not as wonderful as she had been describing it to you in her letters. “She’s as big as Caraxes now,” she added.

“But not as experienced,” Daemon dismissed that and laid his eyes on you again. He squinted them and looked you up and down before speaking to you again eventually. “Well, come in, Elaena. We are not in a position to refuse any dragonriders,” he said and turned around to walk away.

You looked at Rhaenyra, questioningly.

“Forgive him, he is nervous about the war and we have also lost our child recently… Our baby girl was born dead,” she sighed and caressed your arm.

“I am so sorry to hear that,” you whispered and gave her a hug. “Still, that gives him no right to speak to you in such a manner. You are his Queen, but, most importantly, his Lady Wife,” you explained. “Such manners are shocking to me.”

“It makes me glad,” Rhaenyra answered mysteriously and you furrowed your brow, “for it means that you had never experienced such treatment from your husband.”

You were given your own chambers in the part of the castle reserved for the royal family and you knew that it was the highest standard for Dragonstone but you missed your chambers in Oldtown dearly. The comfort was incomparable… The Hightower was cosier and warmer – it was full of wood and colours instead of the cold, grey stone. The Reach was warmer overall and the sound of the waves was soothing there, meanwhile in Dragonstone the stormy weather was keeping you up all night.

Not just the sound of the raging sea but also thoughts of your family. Each evening you were crying yourself to sleep, imagining the bedtime of your children, remembering all the rituals Gwayne was doing before going to sleep and you missed them dearly. You especially missed laying in your bed together and discussing your day – trying to work out some problems around Oldtown or with your children… Sometimes gossipping together. And now, you were squeezing your pillow tight and trying to communicate with your husband telepathically. Yet, you still had no idea what you would tell him if it was possible.

He hadn’t written you any letter and you couldn’t blame him since you left Oldtown without even a note on his desk. Yet, each time there were new letters coming to Dragonstone, you were expecting to see the familiar green envelope and your husband’s handwriting; begging you to come back. Gwayne, however, had his pride and you couldn’t be sad or angry about it now because you had always admired him for it.

Seeing Rhaenyra’s relationship with Daemon was only making you miss Gwayne more. He was a Lord Husband that so many women could only dream of – even The Queen of The Seven Kingdoms, apparently.

Daemon was not the only person treating you with a hint of mistrust. Your aunt Princess Rhaenys was by your side but even young Jacaerys was staring at you without a word most of the time even though you had been playing with him and bouncing him on your knee when he had been a babe.

It was not easy to get used to all of this – the coldness and emptiness of your chambers, the treatment of others. From the beloved Lady of Oldtown to a mistrusted Princess, a prodigal sister.

Your loyalty and surname that had been given to you through marriage was being brought up regularly, mostly by Daemon – especially during dinnertime or supper.

“It was not my choice to marry a Hightower and even if it was… I married Gwayne fifteen years ago. No one could have suspected this war…” You rolled your eyes at one more remark by the dinner table.

“Don’t be naive, Elaena!” Daemon snapped. “Everyone has suspected. That was the very reason why Otto Hightower sent you to his son in Oldtown.”

You didn’t answer and you felt the eyes of everyone staring at you and expecting some sort of remark. Daemon smirked at your silence, feeling like the winner.

“I am not used to being yelled at and treated in such a way. And I am certainly not used to dinnertime being a battle between the family members,” you stated calmly.

“Go back to Oldtown then,” Daemon scoffed. “If you find it so insufferable here, then go back to your husband. Do you think he is going to greet you with open arms after such betrayal?” He laughed and shook his head while taking a sip of the wine. “He is going to greet you with his sword instead, Princess,” he mocked your title and you swallowed your food thickly, feeling your stomach turning upside down.

Daemon had only voiced out the anxiety that you had been having for some time now – that Gwayne did not miss you at all. That he did not feel nothing but anger at you and that he would kill you at the very first opportunity. After all, you had hurt his pride and you had stained his honour and these things mattered to him more than anything else – except for your children, of course.

Your marriage had been good but it didn’t change the fact it was an arranged union and not a love match. Sometimes, though… Sometimes, laying in your bed, here, in Dragonstone, tossing and turning, you were quite sure that you had grown to love him, which was quite ironic to have such thoughts now when you had already ruined everything between you two. But you were sure he was not having the same thoughts about you anyway. 

“My sister is more than welcome here,” Rhaenyra gave her husband a scolding look and squeezed your hand. You smiled at her, gratefully.

But the thing with Rhaenyra was that despite being The Queen, no one really seemed to care about it. No one except for you, Rhaenys and Daemon’s daughters. All the men, though, were still doing everything their own way. And Rhaenyra herself could not find any solution to deal with that, which made you wonder if she would really be a good Queen…

Not that you had ever voiced that out for it would be treason. You loved your sister and you were obliged to serve her because of the oath you had sworn. But still, you sometimes couldn’t help feeling that she was not a strong leader. On the other hand, it was not that surprising because she had no real experience in such matters and when things had gotten difficult in King’s Landing, she had fled to Dragonstone instead of staying in The Red Keep and learning how to be a good ruler.

The death of Lucerys had shaken everyone. The very first victim of the conflict being such a young and innocent boy… You were speechless and you had no words of comfort to offer. You were a mother, too, and you just couldn’t imagine what Rhaenyra had to feel.

You locked yourself in your chambers instead and spent your whole day staring at the small portrait you had taken with yourself from Oldtown. It was a portrait in the size of a locket and it was of your own four children – twelve years old Steffon Hightower with silver hair and lilac eyes standing next to his nine years old brother Loras Hightower who was a copy of his father with his auburn hair and blue eyes. The girls were sitting on the carpet – six years old Lysa Hightower with her father’s auburn hair and your lilac eyes and three years old Roslin Hightower with silver hair and blue eyes. You felt the warm tears streaming down your cheeks and all you really wanted was to hold them and make sure they were alright.

Sometimes you regretted your decision to flee from Oldtown. Perhaps you should have been an obedient and loyal wife like your mother had always been teaching you to be. It would save you lots of trouble.

Fifteen years earlier, before your departure to marry Gwayne, Rhaenyra had confessed to you that she had wished to be more like you – less rebellious, less stubborn. Meanwhile, you had always wished to be more like her and now you kind of were but you finally understood the price for it, too.

It was Princess Rhaenys that came to your chambers on that day. She sighed at the sight of you and approached you with a soft smile. She took the small portrait from your hands and took a look at the faces of your children.

“How accurate is it?” She asked.

“Very,” you sniffled your tears back. “I sleep with it under my pillow every night. And by day, I have them close to my heart,” you confessed.

“They’re very beautiful children,” Rhaenys sat next to you on the edge of your bed and handed you the portrait back. “What are they like?”

You knew she was trying to help you. She wanted you to talk about your children and let out all the tears that no one else in the castle would want to see now. Not even Rhaenyra because she was grieving her own loss. Meanwhile, your children were safe and sound in Oldtown but your heart was in grief anyway. You were grateful that your aunt wanted to hear about them because you felt like it was expected from you to not express any feelings towards The Hightowers, Oldtown, your husband or your offspring at all. Each display of affection or a hint of the fact that you were missing them was perceived as an act of treason.

You had sacrificed so much for them but no one seemed to understand the significance of it. No one except for Rhaenys and Rhaenyra but they were only two and against many.

“You would like Steffon the most, I think,” you caressed his little face on your portrait. “A true Targaryen, look at him. And he is so…” you chuckled through the tears. “So brave and bold. He’s going to be a knight like his father and, somehow, I have a feeling he’s going to be a dragonrider, too. I don’t know how but he’s determined enough to claim one,” you assured her. “And then there’s Loras…” Your fingers moved to your second son. “He inherited all the kindness and goodness and gentleness from Gwayne. From me, too, I assume. There is not a mean bone in his body. And my girls…” You moved your hand down and sighed. “That is Lysa, the one with auburn hair. And the little one with silver hair is Roslin. They… They were spending their whole days following me around and clinging to my skirts… I have no idea how they are managing now…” You sobbed and hid your face in your hands.

Rhaenys put her arm around you and pulled you closer as she rubbed your back to soothe you. She leaned in to kiss your temple.

“Their mother is strong and brave. She is righteous,” she whispered. “One day, they will understand it and forgive you. You had this calling in you, the calling to join your sister for you are a Targaryen, you are a dragonrider. We are never only mothers and wives and proper ladies. We are wild creatures, Elaena. Just like our dragons,” she lifted your chin up, forcing you to look into her eyes.

“I thought of taking them with me but… But they’re safer in Oldtown, far away from here. And Gwayne… Well, he would hunt me down and kill me for that, I am sure. He is a devoted father,” you tried to explain yourself but no matter how much you were doing so, you still felt like a terrible mother.

“You were right to leave them with him then,” Rhaenys caressed your arms. “Your husband will protect them and of that you are sure, I can see. They are safe there.”

“When this war ends, when we win…” Your lower lip trembled. “I will be allowed to reunite with my family, right? Rhaenyra will allow me?” You asked, a little unsurely.

“I am rather convinced that after we win this war, you are going to remain the Lady of Oldtown,” Rhaenys nodded and kissed your forehead. “You’re going to raise your children there and watch them grow happily.”

“And… And my Lord Husband?” You sniffled, while Rhaenys tilted her head. “I mean… He has to die, right?”

“I highly doubt Daemon would allow it any other way,” Rhaenys told you.

“Whatever he might be saying, he is not The King,” you reminded her.

“That decision will not be Rhaenyra’s to make. Daemon and Gwayne will most likely meet on the battlefield sooner or later,” your aunt reminded you and fixed your hair delicately. “You must think of your husband as dead from now on if you want to survive this,” she added and stood up to leave your chambers.

You knew that she had meant that with the best intentions but it only made you sob even more. You took another look at the portrait of your children and your heart squeezed in your chest. What was giving you a guarantee that Daemon would not hurt your babies, too? He seemed to be filled with an ugly desire to wipe all Hightowers out from this world.

Weeks had passed and you had grown colder and sharper lately. Daemon was not around any longer for he had left for Harrenhal, which was helpful, but if he was still in Dragonstone, you would surely be ready to confront him each time now. You were confronting everyone else whenever they doubted you and on multiple occasions you had confronted them to defend your sister, too.

You still missed your family but all those lonely nights had made you turn pretty heartless sometimes. All those suppressed feelings and regrets had made you a woman who was holding her head high and who was more and more sure of her skills. You were flying Onyx every day now to strengthen your bond even more and it was giving you lots of confidence.

Despite the fondness you still felt towards your marriage, you knew aunt Rhaenys had been right and the marriage was over now. You also realised how much you had missed out in those past fifteen years. You had been living more like a Hightower than a Targaryen. Your husband was a good and kind man but still – he had been trying to tame the dragon blood inside of you. You had not been riding Onyx enough and your High Valyrian had become rusty. Now you were finding your old self back again and all the pain you were feeling because of missing your children only fueled you to be even colder and sharper towards all of those who were doubting you.

When you entered the hall where the council was gathered, everyone nodded their heads at you and you didn’t even bother to nod back. As the Lady of Oldtown you had been respected but you had always been kind in return, too. In Dragonstone everything seemed to be turned upside down.

But why would Princess Elaena Targaryen bow down to any of these men inside the castle that had belonged to her ancestors for centuries now? It was your home – perhaps not in the same domesticated way as The Hightower but Dragonstone was your blood’s home and you would not bow down to anyone inside of it except for the monarch.

The only person you bowed at was of course Rhaenyra herself – your Queen, your sister. Not a perfect Queen and only slightly better sister but you had sworn to her and you valued honour just like your Lord Husband did.

“The battle is coming,” she explained to you as she pointed at the table with the map of Westeros because you were late to the gathering after flying on Onyx for a little too long this evening. “Tomorrow, the armies will clash around Rook’s Rest,” she added and pointed at the place.

“That is close,” you tilted your head. “But the castle has no significance to us, does it?”

“We have already lost enough and we cannot lose more!” one of the Lords protested. “It’s about our honour, my Princess.”

“I want to send a dragon,” Rhaenyra moved one of the stone dragons on the map to put it alongside the Black Army. “I do not intend to use it in battle. No burning, no crushing. I do not wish to be remembered as the first side of this conflict who used a dragon to kill her enemies because once we use them as weapons, the destruction from both sides will be unstoppable,” she explained and the Lords from her council sighed and rolled their eyes.

Those foolish, non-Targaryen men really wanted Rhaenyra’s dragons to cause slaughter, not understanding the possible consequences.

“The dragon will be there to patrol the battlefield – it will be there just in case the Greens send their own, too. And it will be there to intimidate the enemy. Intimidate only,” Rhaenyra pointed out.

“I shall go,” Baela spoke up and everyone laid their eyes on her but you spotted that Rhaenyra was unsure. Baela was like a daughter to her and even if the dragon was not supposed to actually participate in any fighting, it still was a risky business to go.

“I shall go,” you straightened your back and now everyone looked at you. Baela was visibly unhappy with that, too. She wanted to prove herself.

“But…” She started.

“Onyx is bigger than Moondancer,” you told her. “And I am older. This is far too dangerous for you.”

“But…” She sighed again and looked at Rhaenyra in a way that suggested she knew something you had no idea of. “Who is going to tell The Princess?”

“Who is going to tell me what?” You shook your head questioningly as you looked at all the gathered members of the council. The men clasped their hands and looked down or they tried to avoid your gaze in different ways; looking through or behind you, turning their heads away and clearing their throats. “Who is going to tell me what?” You repeated the question, irritated now.

“Elaena,” Rhaenys finally spoke up and you looked at her, “it is your husband who leads The Green army now, so we have been informed. Your father-in-law called for him and Ser Gwayne Hightower came all the way from Oldtown to lead the army of his nephew.”

You blinked a few times at that revelation, still not processing it fully.

“And Cole?” You asked.

“Aegon named him his new Hand,” Rhaenyra informed you. “He was summoned back to King’s Landing.”

“And Otto?” You furrowed your brow.

“Probably on his way back to Oldtown, Gods only know,” Rhaenyra scoffed. “It doesn’t matter now, Elaena. What matters is that your husband leads the enemy’s army.”

Short silence occurred and you knew that everyone was observing your reaction carefully as if they were inspecting you. But those past few weeks you had learnt how to keep a poker face on. Your jaw was clenched as you discretely wiped your sweaty hands in your skirts.

“I shall go,” you nodded, surely.

“Elaena…” Rhaenyra gave you a meaningful look as if she was scolding you. “I do not think this is a good idea.”

“It must be. It is my husband,” you explained.

“Do you think he might stop his army from attacking at the sight of you?” Jacaerys asked you but you spotted a hint of mockery in his voice.

“I do not know. It might motivate him further to attack, it might want him to stop or it might make him indifferent,” you admitted, truthfully. “But it must be me going there,” you insisted, looking deep into your sister’s eyes.

You desperately wanted her to understand that it was important for you to see him again – even if it would be under such circumstances.

Rhaenyra nodded and you cracked a smile although some men were whispering between each other about this decision but you decided to pretend not to hear it.

“You shall leave at dawn,” Rhaenyra told you. “But, Elaena, remember – do not attack, do you hear me? If The Greens bring their own dragon and they use it, only then you are allowed to join the fight,” she pointed her finger at you.

“I understand,” you nodded your head. It was the reason why you wanted to do it – because it meant patrolling and intimidating only, not the real fight.

“Good. I trust you, sister,” Rhaenyra smiled at you.

“Thank you, my Queen.”

In the morning, you didn’t even have breakfast, too nervous for the upcoming battle. You let your maids braid your hair according to the Valyrian customs and you wore an armour that had been made for you recently. It would be the first time you'd actually wear it outside.

The armour was made of black metal with the ornaments made of Valyrian steel. It was light and feminine but it was intimidating, too, and surely worthy of a dragonrider. You insisted on the black colour because of Onyx’s scales.

You hid the small portrait of your children inside your armour and you looked at yourself one more time in the mirror. You couldn’t help but smile although it was difficult to recognise yourself like this.

“I am a dragon,” you whispered to yourself and lifted your chin up. “I am a Targaryen Princess and I am a dragon blood, a dragon rider – a dragon myself,” you repeated, trying to motivate yourself and with a deep breath, you left the chambers as fast as possible to go to the dragonpit.

Onyx was already waiting for you and a brand new saddle had been placed upon her back – it was matching your black armour. She purred at the sight of you and you petted her nose the way she liked it.

“We have a job to do, my girl,” you told her. “We have to scare Gwayne a little,” you chuckled and she huffed in a way that resembled laughter, too.

With a smile, you jumped on her back and you flew out of Dragonstone. Onyx roared when you were up in the sky as if she was saying farewell.

It didn’t take long to get to Rook’s Rest on a dragonback but the closer you were to your destination, the more nervous you were becoming. You saw from a distance the banners of the two armies and you could hear the clinging sounds of their armours in the wind, the battlecries and the cannons.

They were starting the battle already when you arrived and Onyx announced you with a long and loud roar. You straightened yourself and looked down proudly, with a smirk on your face. Everything froze below you for a moment and then a thunderous cheer greeted you amongst the Black Army.

It was a powerful feeling, you had to admit. No experience of yours could match with it – no memory from when you had been The Royal Princess living in King’s Landing, no memory of your recent time now in Dragonstone and not even any memory of yours from Oldtown where you had been the Lady Hightower.

No amount of respect and power that had ever been shown towards you could match to what you were feeling now – you felt pretty invincible, in fact. And you knew it was bold of you and it was only caused by the sudden rush of adrenaline but in that moment you felt like The Queen yourself. Like you could challenge Rhaenyra and Aegon both – after all, you were their sister, too. Your father had been The King and you were a Targaryen. You had been born to rule over those people below you – those small figures that resembled ants in comparison to your Onyx and its fire.

It was scary how easy it was to forget that you were one of those ants, too.

You ignored the cheers of the Black Army and you looked down at The Greens, searching for one person only – obviously. And you spotted him as your heart skipped a beat.

Gwayne was sitting on his horse in his beautiful armour that you had always admired. Even from this great height you could see that he was looking up with fear in his eyes. You smirked and Onyx roared once again, more angrily this time. The Green Army was panicking as the men were shouting at each other and some were trying to hide.

All the time stopped for you for a short while, though. Your eyes were fixed on your Lord Husband only – it had been a few long weeks apart from him. You wondered what was going inside his head at the moment but most likely it was nothing but a paralysing fear. It was a painful death to die in the fire and he had been telling you about it a few times before that it was one of his fears whenever you had teased him about using Onyx against him. Now, it was no longer a banter between a married couple but reality.

You didn’t want to torment him any more. You ordered Onyx to fly away and leave The Greens alone for now as you went back higher in the skies to patrol the battle. Despite giving them a sign that you were not there to kill them, from the corner of your eye, you spotted that some of the cannons of the Green Army were now aimed at you and Onyx.

Gwayne, however, shaking out of his state of fear, ordered them to turn around and aim at the castle and The Blacks instead. You smiled to yourself and kept circling up in the air as Onyx roared.

Despite your strong bond with her, you could feel how uneasy she was, how impatient. It surprised you because Onyx was a young dragon and she had no experience in battle. In fact, you had suspected her to shy away or get scared at the sight the real fight. And now, your girl seemed to be pretty bold and angry as she huffed and puffed, while her muscles tensed.

“Lykirī, Onyx, lykirī,” you ordered as you patted her neck to calm her down but you had to admit that her restlessness was making you feel worried if you were even able to fully control her after all.

She roared and lowered herself. You squinted your eyes to observe the battle but you had to shout Lykirī! all the time at your dragon because she seemed to be more than eager to join the fight. The sight of her and the sounds she was making seemed to work, though. The Greens were terrified and kept looking up all the time to make sure she wouldn’t burn them all any second. Your intimidation plan seemed to be working better than you had expected.

A few times during the battle, you found Gwayne’s eyes somehow and he would look up back at you but then he would ride away on his horse. Each time, your heart clenched inside your chest and Onyx had to feel it because it was when she was growing the most uneasy.

So far, it was the Green Army that had been winning battle after battle but now they seemed to be too distracted by the dragon flying overhead. It was not the fault of your husband’s leadership – your knowledge of warfare was little but you could see even from up there that most of his orders and ideas were good. It was just simply not enough when a huge beast was a constant deathly treat. The morales were simply too low and you could see that some knights even tried to desert the battlefield in a desperate attempt to save themselves from your hypothetical dragonfire. Meanwhile, The Blacks were not as organised but they felt more confident than ever with The Targaryen Princess watching over them.

“Lykirī, Onyx!” You shouted at your dragon when you felt that her neck was tensing as if she was about to let out the fire. “What’s wrong with you, girl?” You hummed to yourself and leaned in to pat her neck and then you froze at the sight below you.

Gwayne was not wearing his helmet anymore and he was no longer in the saddle. You couldn’t spot his horse but he was surrounded by the Black Army knights. He was fighting them bravely but he was alone against four men and it was a hopeless struggle yet he refused to give up and become their prisoner. You looked around and spotted that most of the Green knights that remained in the battlefield were struggling in a similar way to your husband. You knew very well how it would end now. It would be the very first victory of your army and Rook’s Rest would be defended.

But at what price?

You could see Gwayne’s face more clearly now as Onyx lowered herself even further. He was exhausted and bruised, dirty from the mud and blood and his lip was cut. You had to fight an urge inside of you to just run into his arms, to hold him again, to kiss him, to be with him. 

But, so far, it looked like you would never be able to do it since he would lose soon. And you would continue your life with the image of him dying in the battlefield – you would continue your life with regret of leaving him and then doing absolutely nothing to help him in the battlefield.

Onyx groaned loudly and exposed her claws and teeth. You were about to calm her down again and then you noticed something that you had not noticed before – she was not trying to attack the Green Army but… the Black one.

You froze as you realised that her eyes were fixated on the knights carrying your sister’s banners. The fire forming in the depths of her throat was aimed at the men gathered near the castle walls and trying to stop the attack of Gwayne’s army.

Onyx was not loyal to Rhaenyra, after all. Onyx was your dragon and she was loyal to you only. You were her mistress and her rider. She knew you better than anyone else.

Some of the knights of the Black Army cheered at you and your dragon – so confident and sure of themselves that they hadn’t noticed that Onyx’s anger was aimed at them. You squinted your eyes at the black banners of Rhaenyra and then the few of the remaining green ones of Aegon.

Gods damn it, you thought. You loved them both – your sister and your brother. But you also did not really care about any of them being the ruler of Westeros because you were not close with any of them. You had been close to your sister but that was fifteen years ago and now she was like a stranger to you. Aegon had been a baby when you left to Oldtown. Your real family – the man you loved, the father of your children – he was down there, struggling, and surely about to die soon if you wouldn’t do anything to help him.

“Dracarys, Onyx,” you ordered after taking a deep breath in. You watched as if you were outside of your own body how her fire destroyed half of the Black Army in mere seconds. You blinked a few times, still detached physically and mentally from the scene that you were responsible for.

Your dragon seemed to have lots of fun, though. She landed on the ground, crushing a few Black knights on the way. The remaining ones were widening their eyes, too terrified to move or they were trying to run away. Onyx did not need your commands anymore, she just kept on burning them as her waving tail destroyed the castle’s tower, killing dozens of men in the process. You were sitting in the saddle with your back straightened and your chin high, looking over death and destruction with the poker face you had mastered the previous weeks.

You had just become the murderer and the destroyer – the very first person in this war who used her dragon as a weapon. And yet, you felt nothing. Perhaps the regret would come later but all that mattered to you now was that Gwayne was safe again. The remaining Green knights ran up to him and helped him to defeat his enemies and then they stood behind their commander while watching the scene in terror.

When the Black Army was defeated by Onyx nearly single-handedly, you turned her around to face the remaining knights by your husband’s side and Gwayne himself. Onyx roared at them and you could hear that she was happy to see them but they didn’t know her the way you did, therefore they remained terrified. After all, you could have been a maniac who would kill everyone, right?

You were a Targaryen, after all.

You enjoyed their fear for a short while and then you ordered Onyx to lay down and she did so, allowing you to dismount her. Your legs were a bit shaky from all the hours in the saddle and all the emotions but you managed to do it gracefully enough.

You turned around to look into Gwayne’s blue eyes. They were filled with shock and terror but you ignored that completely, finally doing something you had wanted to do for weeks now.

You ran up to him and straight into his arms, nearly knocking him off on the ground as your armours clashed loudly. The knights surrounding him were observing the scene carefully, too scared to react in any way since your Onyx had just given the show of what she was capable of.

Now, however, she looked pretty adorable and innocent as she seemed to take a small nap in the middle of the battlefield full of ashes and blood.

“My Lord,” you cupped your husband’s face and he looked into your eyes with a hint of sadness that you could had expected. However, you were glad that it was sadness instead of anger. “Will you ever forgive me for abandoning you?” You asked, nearly innocently, while biting on your lip as if you weren’t responsible for all this death and destruction below your feet.

Gwayne looked nervously at Onyx napping behind your back and cracked a sad smile at you.

“Do I have a choice, my Lady Wife?” He tried to make a joke as he put his hands on your waist. “If I say no, you will order your dragon to burn me.”

“Onyx would never burn you,” you shook your head with a chuckle as you sniffled your tears back. “That dragon is more difficult to manage than I expected.”

“She is just like you then, my Princess,” Gwayne raised one of his hands to caress your cheek. His touch was gentle like he could not believe that you were really there, standing in front of him.

“She is my dragon, after all. Onyx knows my heart – I could lie to myself but I could never lie to her,” you nodded and then you looked around. “What a mess I have caused.”

“Indeed,” Gwayne only nodded and took his hand away from you.

He turned around and ordered his men to look for the wounded knights and to go for the castle since it was practically left for the taking now. They had to put the new banners on the walls now. You kept standing there and waiting for him to finish so you would be left alone to talk now. When it happened, he looked at you with a sigh and you cracked a smile at his handsome face even though it was bruised and dirty.

“I had to leave. She is my sister, I have sworn to her, she needed me,” you explained.

“I know,” Gwayne nodded. “It broke my heart, Elaena, but I understood. At least some part of me did. I could not understand how you could leave our children like that,” he approached you and you looked away, too ashamed to meet his gaze.

“How are they? What have you told them?”

“They are safe,” Gwayne assured you. “They miss you…” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have lied to them… Well, not really. I have told them that you went to visit your sister. That it was an urgent family matter and you had no time to say farewell but you would be back… Soon,” Gwayne explained. “They are too young to know about the war so they believed me.”

“I doubt Steffon did. He is ten and two now, of course he knows about the war,” you pointed out and shyly looked up. “I shall go to them, even today. I shall take Onyx and go back to Oldtown to hold my children and…” You stopped when you realised something painful. “Of course, that is, if you allow me,” you fixed yourself.

“You are the Lady of Oldtown, I would never forbid you from the city,” Gwayne shook his head. “And you are their mother, they need you.”

“Yes, but so do you. Especially now,” you explained. “After seeing our children, I shall come back to you. I shall accompany you in each battle from now on. I have started something you have no idea of… Now Rhaenyra will make sure to send her dragons to war, too. Her pain and anger will be great from my betrayal,” you pointed out.

“Why did you betray her?” Gwayne asked, raising his eyebrow. “You have sworn to her, haven’t you? What made you change your mind to support King Aegon instead?”

“Fuck Aegon!” You dismissed him and he widened his eyes. “And fuck Rhaenyra. I don’t care about any of them.”

“You shall not be heard saying such things,” Gwayne chuckled nervously.

“They are my siblings, I can speak whatever of them,” you shrugged your arms. “I am by your side only,” you confessed and you looked away.

You knew it was a bit stupid to confess such things when you were the one who had abandoned him without a word of a warning or any explanation. You should be grateful that he was talking to you instead of cutting your head off – as your Lord Husband he had every right to after your stunt and since you were technically a traitor to both of the sides, no one would even punish him for killing you.

But Gwayne moved even closer to you and grabbed your wrist to squeeze it, which made you look up at him shyly again.

“I love you, Elaena. And please, do forgive me that it took me losing you to finally say it out loud. And if it took you running away to realise the same about me, then I can be only grateful for this experience. You are a dragon, my Princess, and I am sorry for forgetting about that,” he whispered.

You couldn’t believe your ears… He was apologising to you?!

“Do not be too greedy, Lord Husband. Do you really expect me to admit out loud that I love you as if I haven’t just betrayed my own army for you? Is that not enough?” You chuckled and so did he, awkwardly. He leaned in to place a gentle kiss upon the palm of your hand and then he caressed it lovingly. You could feel the longing and yearning in those gestures. “I’ve missed you,” you confessed. “I’ve missed us.”

“So have I,” Gwayne kissed your forehead. It was not proper to exchange such affections in public but you were in the middle of the battlefield so you did not bother to care about it. “But it would be my greatest wish for you to stay in Oldtown after coming back there. I do not want you on the battlefield, Elaena.”

“You can’t stop me,” you shrugged your arms and squeezed his wrists lovingly.

“Haven’t you caused enough trouble already?” He tried a different approach as he smirked at you.

“Watch me,” you smirked back and gently kissed him on the lips.

You hurried through the halls of The Hightower while all the maids and servants were staring at you with widened eyes. They certainly had not expected to ever see you again but no one was trying to stop you. You rushed to the nursery room where all your children had been gathered after your arrival. You had changed from your armour into a comfortable dress and had ordered your maids that you wanted to see your sons and daughters.

You finally pushed the doors open and tears of joy streamed down your cheeks at the sight of their faces. Loras, Lysa and Roslin hurried to you with big smiles and hugged you tightly. You crouched down to squeeze them all lovingly.

“Mummy!” Little Roslin seemed to be the happiest and she was practically shaking at the sight of you. Your heart ached for her when you kissed her all over her tiny face.

“We’re so happy to see you again, Mother,” Loras greeted you like a big boy and you cracked a smile at him before kissing his forehead.

“I am so happy to see you again, too, my love. I’ve missed you terribly,” you confessed, looking at Steffon from the corner of your eye. The silver haired boy was keeping his distance from you and staring at you questioningly. “Steffon?” You called for him and he walked up to you reluctantly.

“Mother,” he only said and kissed your cheek before moving away. “Does father know that you’re here?”

“Of course,” you furrowed your brow at him. “I saw him yesterday,” you nodded at him but he didn’t look convinced.

“And how was the time with your sister?” Lysa asked and you kissed her cheeks.

“It was good,” you nodded with a sad smile. “But I regretted that I couldn’t be with you.”

“Will you stay now?” Loras asked and you caressed his head gently.

“I wish I could but I have to join your father,” you explained. “We will be back soon. Together,” you assured him.

“Father left for the war,” Steffon pointed out.

“And I must, too. I am a Targaryen and a dragonrider, my darling,” you tried to explain. “Either way, let’s not dwell on that now. We have a whole day to spend together,” you squeezed the hands of your girls.

You didn’t leave your children even for a second for the whole day and in the evening you allowed them to sleep with you in your chambers that you share with Gwayne. Since he was not in Oldtown, there was a lot of empty space in the bed. Steffon did not join you in the evening, though, and for the whole day he was roaming around but never actively spending his time with you either. It was hurting you deeply but you wanted to give him space and you were aware that he was old enough to realise more than you’d like him to. You could not blame him for being angry.

Watching your sweet babies sleep, you could not drift off to the land of dreams yourself. You had spent the previous night in the arms of your husband after weeks of being apart and it had surely helped you to fall asleep but now you were being haunted by the visions of what had happened in the battlefield and of what Rhaenyra’s reaction had to be after hearing about your betrayal.

You were laying on your back and staring at the ceiling when the doors creaked as they opened and you lifted yourself on your elbows to see the intruder. It was Steffon.

“Mother?” He whispered. “Are you asleep?”

“No, my love. Come in,” you whispered back and carefully left the bed, making sure not to wake up the rest of your children.

You approached your son and put your hands on his shoulders. The night was cold, therefore there was a fire burning in the fireplace. You brought him closer and you both sat on a fluffy carpet there. Steffon avoided your gaze but you could see he was dying to ask you something.

“What is it, my love?” You fixed his silver hair gently.

“I know what the war is about and that you left to see your sister…” He mumbled out quietly. “You chose her. Not us,” he pointed out and dared to look up, his lilac eyes meeting yours.

“No, I chose you. You have no idea what I have done, the choice I have made,” you nodded at him and caressed his cheek with your finger. “I left to see her, she is my sister, my blood. I grew up alongside her, we share the same father and the same mother. But there was a hole in my chest because I missed you and… And I missed your father, too,” you confessed.

“I have never seen him sadder,” Steffon said and your heart clenched inside your chest. “I knew it was not about you visiting your sister. I knew immediately you had abandoned us.”

“I know you are angry at me now and you have every right to be. And I know how much children hate it when they are being told that but one day you shall understand it. Because you are a Targaryen, perhaps the most out of all my children,” you smiled at him.

“Because of my hair and eyes?”

“No, my love. All of my children are as Targaryen as Hightower. But you have the spirit… The fire,” you told him. “I love all my children dearly but you are a dragon,” you nodded.

“Do you have to leave again?” He asked and his lilac eyes filled with tears.

“I’ll be back,” you promised. “But I’m a dragonrider and when the war calls, I am on the go,” you explained. “Your father needs me by his side and King Aegon needs more dragons.”

Steffon sniffed his tears back and he finally moved closer to hug you. You wrapped your arms around him and placed a kiss on the top of his head.

In the evening of the very next day you were already dismounting Onyx in King’s Landing. All that travelling had been exhausting for you and her but it was necessary. You patted her and allowed her to rest in the dragonpit as you were being escorted to The Red Keep by a few guards.

You were wearing your armour again even though it felt a bit wrong to wear the armour that Rhaenyra had requested to be made for you so you could fight the war for her.

Gwayne was waiting for you by the gates to the castle. You smiled widely at the sight of him and you ran up to your husband as he ordered the guards to walk away because he would escort you to The King himself.

“And how was it?” He asked you after kissing the palm of your hand.

“Only Steffon knew, just as I suspected,” you sighed. “But we have explained everything to each other. I believe he has forgiven me or at least he is no longer cross with me,” you nodded. “I miss them again but the pain is less when I know I am with you,” you smiled and Gwayne took you by your arm to lead you to the council meeting.

“You have become quite a controversial figure, my Princess,” he informed you and you chuckled nervously.

“I do wonder why,” you tried to joke.

The doors were opened in front of you and you were announced as Princess Elaena Targaryen, Lady Hightower while everyone was staring at you.

The man sitting right in front of you had to be your brother Aegon because he was taking your father’s seat by the table. You bowed down at him and after a short while of silence, he laughed and clapped his hands.

“Sister!” He greeted you so happily that you were nearly suspecting an ambush. He stood up and rushed to your side to wrap his arms tightly around you. “Sister Elaena! How good it is to see you again! Do you remember me?” He took a step back and looked deep into your eyes, hoping for a positive answer like an excited puppy.

You cracked a smile at him and dared to move your hand up to brush a single silver hair strand behind his ear in a motherly way.

“Of course I do, my King,” you nodded. “You were a small babe then but I remember it fondly,” you assured him and it was no lie. “You loved to sit on my lap by the table and eat all the sweets that I was spoiling you with despite our father’s scolding looks. It was always our secret how many cakes you ate,” you reminded him and Aegon grinned at you.

“This is my sister!” He pointed his finger at you after turning around to face his council. “My sister who has burnt Rhaenyra’s army for me. Her loyalty shall not be questioned,” he announced and walked away to sit on his chair again.

You didn’t want to correct him that you hadn’t burnt anyone for him because it would be a political suicide to do so. You only cracked a smile at your husband. You didn’t expect the greeting to go so smoothly. Aegon seemed to be very desperate for any sort of attention or affection.

“Princess Elaena’s loyalty shall still be proven,” the tall young man without one eye smirked at you. That had to be your brother Aemond, whom you hadn’t met.

You sighed and rolled your eyes at that. Each side had their Daemon, apparently.

“I will be proving my loyalty to The King, brother. I do not owe you anything for we are equals,” you reminded him with a smirk, too.

Suddenly, Queen Alicent stood up and approached you to give you a warm hug. You hugged her back even though you were surprised by that welcome from her.

“We are happy to have you back,” she said and you spotted honesty alongside the sadness in her big, brown eyes. You nodded your head at her.

“My Queen,” you greeted her.

“Queen Dowager,” she fixed you. “Helaena is The Queen now. Do you remember her?”

“Of course,” you smiled at the image of tiny Helaena from your memories. “I would love to see her.”

“After the meeting,” Queen Alicent nodded and pointed at the empty chair for you. Gwayne stood behind you as if he was your sworn guard.

Well, as your Lord Husband, he was.

After the meeting of King Aegon’s council, you went to Queen Helaena’s chambers with Queen Alicent.

“Helaena, you have a guest,” her mother opened the doors gently. “It is your sister, Princess Elaena.”

After that introduction, you walked inside and bowed your head in front of your younger sister. She was standing by the window and turned her head around as her eyes widened at the sight of you.

“An oath-breaker,” she greeted you in a mysterious way that made a chill go down your spine. “You bring death and destruction.”

You had no idea how to answer that and you looked at Alicent, searching for some sort of explanation but she only blushed and looked down, uncomfortably.

“Our Queen often speaks in riddles,” she told you.

“No, your majesty,” you shook your head, “I do know very well what our Queen means.”

MASTERLIST

[rainhalydia]

Hello lovely,

Asoiaf asks, 9, 16, 31, 32, 34, 39

♥️♥️♥️s

Hi, darling!

9. Build your small council with any characters dead or alive

Hmmm... I want people who actually know how to rule, I guess, and also have similar priorities as me. So Septon Barth as Hand of the King because we need basic reforms asap, Dunk as Lord Commander because he's noble enough to want things done correctly but also savvy enough that he won't go too hard against me if I choose underhanded means, Elaena Targaryen as Master of Coin, as she's the only trustworthy person in the Realm who can do Math... Stannis as Master of Laws because he'll take the job seriously despite his "great" idea of banning brothels and will investigate people properly. Corlys Velaryon as Master of Ships, Marwyn as Master of Whispers, and finally I guess Maester Luwin as Grand Maester.

16. Favorite sibling dynamic

A cliche, but Asha and Theon. They're so important to me. I particularly like it from Asha's side, if that makes sense? I think the most poignant family relationship Theon will have is with his mother, when they finally meet again, but Theon is important to Asha on a character level, you know? He helps to highlight her character growth.

31. Who would you elevate to a POV character?

Hmmm... I think I'd want a Margaery pov. I don't necessarily think she's very interesting, but it would sure clear up so many fanon about her! Down with pastel lesbians! Also, it's past time we have someone's perspective on the Reach (I'm counting on future Cersei chapters to deal with Casterly Rock and the West).

32. A fancast you absolutely can’t stand

I usually don't like any kind of Asian Starks because Theon looks Asian in my head and he needs to look very different from them, and I dislike it when Jon is too pretty. Let him and Arya have long faces and brown hair!

34. What’s something people get wrong about your favorite character?

Theon is not actually a loser. He makes bad decisions, sure, but he has a lot of skills his society values, like being a good archer and a persuasive leader (it's a MIRACLE that his men didn't kill him and left during the Winterfell stunt). And he is quite charming when he wants to be.

39. Your Drunk History topic (a character/theory/event/etc)

My pet theory: Theon is not going to die, but he's especially not going to die in the judgement Stannis is going to give him. Bran's face is going to appear in the heart tree and he'll either forgive him or task him with helping Stannis take WF from the Boltons the same way he took it the first time.

[evelzzzk]

Dragons eat Seahorses series: Dancing with the Devil(s) - Female OC Velaryon Reader x Daemon Targaryen x Aemond Targaryen (Chapter 4)

Chapter 1: Battlefield between the sheets

Chapter 2: Outburst of chaos

Chapter 3: The Storm's Aftermath

Alright, this one is really lengthy, but both Aemond and Daemon need their respective space, so I had to give it to them. Enjoy dancing with Targaryen Devils, you dirty little potatoes. :>

WARNINGS(!): Smut, 18+ NSFW, semi-public sex, voyeurism, fingering, sex-denial, punishment by sex.

ENGLISH IS MY 2ND LANGUAGE.

Word count: approx 10,2k

SUMMARY: Preparations for the wedding feast were completed and the great evening finally arrived. You have been introduced to a forum of the most distinguished people in Westeros as the future wife of Prince Aemond, the First of His Name, second son of the late King Viserys I. Unexpectedly, the Blacks responded to the Usurper's invitation with Rhaenyra and Daemon at the helm, arriving at the celebrations. The Rogue Prince intended to give you an unforgettable experience as his wedding gift and you gladly accepted the present. Unfortunately, your fiancé caught you both bang to rights and he wasn't going to let it go unpunished.

Playlist: Track 1, track 2, track 3, track 4, track 5, track 6, track 7

„King Aegon II, Second of His Name, Ruler of the Seven Kingdoms and The Protector of the Realm is greatly honored to invite you to the wedding feast to celebrate the union between Prince Aemond Targaryen and Lady Elaena Velaryon and to witness their nuptial afterwards. The King wishes to host all of you under the banner of peace and in his grace His Majesty wants to discuss the terms of the truce between Him and his royal sister, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

This invitation note was sent to your parents, Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys as well as to Rhaenyra and Daemon and to the other Blacks who mattered in any way. It was an overt insult to Rhaenyra as the note literally meant „Hey, we know your son Lucerys was murdered by his own Uncle Aemond, but we wish to invite you to his wedding anyway and discuss your capitulation over the tea.” Queen Alicent and even her Father, The Hand, Otto believed in their naivety that The Black Queen will be willing to negotiate. How wrong they were in their assumptions. They both tried their hardest to keep on a leash the most obstinate hounds – Aegon and Aemond. Their mother intentionally kept sending them away to fight off small raids of Blacks and they were impeccable.

The preparations for your wedding feast moved in full swing as you were constantly thrown between Alicent’s almost motherly-like solicitude and Helaena’s outburst of peculiar ideas. Aemond barely joined you in those efforts as he was permanently devoured by heat of the fights, he was constantly fired by clash of swords and Vhagar’s roars. But in those fleeting moments you both managed to share, your relationship with Aemond succeeded to heal somehow, however you never talked about Lucerys or events of that fateful night, not even once and you slowly got closer to each other but you still remained distanced a bit. He walked around you on eggshells, trying to get your trust back and warm your heart again. And you had to admit that he was quite successful with his efforts.

In the afternoon on celebration day, you walked to your chamber feeling already tired of another portion of preparations and yet there was a banquet and the whole night ahead of you. You huffed with resignation as you pushed the door behind you, not closing them entirely. You stepped forward the small table and poured yourself a goblet of wine. As you were sipping the red liquid deliberately you felt unfamiliar hands grabbing your waist, squeezing it lightly.

- Aemond...?! Gods, you almost scared me to death...! – a frightened yell escaped your lips as you nearly spitted all the alcohol in your mouth.

- I’m sorry my Lady, I didn’t mean to... But you left your door opened – he responded innocently peppering your exposed neck and shoulder with heated kisses.

- You stink of Vhagar... You really couldn’t let go of the battle on the day of the feast...?

- I wish I could but leaving Aegon with Sunfyre alone would be very non-brotherly of me... – he muttered apologizingly, his lips were still pressed to your neckline.

- Maybe he finally would learn how to fight while Sunfyre would burn his pathetic ass – you mumbled with visible irritation and Aemond only laughed at your allusion towards his brother.

He pulled out a huge, rectangular box and presented it to you. Of course it was made of black velvet, tied up with red ribbon.

- Another gift? – you peeked at him teasingly.

- Open it – he passed the box to you, smirking insidiously.

You pulled the tape and opened the gift. A ridiculously beautiful dress appeared in front of your eyes, crimson red, made of volatile tulle, sleeveless, with a pretty deep cut V-shaped cleavage, tied at the waist with a black ribbon, a black rounded Targaryen sigil was imprinted in its hem.

- Let me guess, Helaena helped with picking? – you asked, scanning the dress in your hands.

- No, I’ve chose this one myself – you goggled your eyes at him in amazement – You didn't expect your man to have such good taste, did you? – he grinned proudly seeing your astonishment.

- Well, I uh... Whoa – you gasped when you saw a dark golden necklace with a huge ruby with pair of earrings matching to the set, hidden under the layer of paper at the bottom of the box. Aemond smiled with contentment, already imagining you dressed up in those frivolities.

- And now you have a proper attire for tonight – he whispered in your ear, kissing it gently.

- But I already have selected a gown – you pointed at teal-blue dress with rich embellishments, laying on the armchair.

- My little dove, I want you to look so captivating so everyone would envy me such a bride – he looked into your eyes so intensely that you knew he wouldn’t bare any protest – Besides, I want you to wear Targaryen colors, not Velaryon. It’s time for you to respect the habits of your future husband.

- Already marking me, huh?

- Oh believe me, little dove, you will be marked so many times in much more pleasurable way – his alluring whisper coated your skin like a morning mist. He wasted no time and pressed his lips against yours in a hungry kiss, dominating you with his agile tongue. For a mere second he broke his lips away, only to lay them on your neck, leaving wet, sloppy kisses, a breathy moan left your mouth. He lifted you and placed on the dresser behind you, not stopping his fiery tenderness.

- And what are you thinking my brother, graping your bride like that before your wedding? – you heard Helaena’s amused voice coming from the door.

- And what are you thinking my dear sister, entering a Lady’s chamber without knocking? – Aemond snapped back being visibly irritated by his sister interruption but he didn’t peel off you. You laughed whole-heartedly as you tried to push him off and finally you managed to.

- Helaena is right, Aemond. We shouldn’t fraternize with each other so much – you giggled seeing his grumpy expression of a little child.

- Women... – Prince huffed annoyed as his sister tended to do your hair.

- You should leave, Aemond. I must get her ready and this will take some time – said Helaena, brushing some of your strands – And better take a bath. You don't want people to think Elaena is marrying Vhagar.

Aemond chuckled slightly at his sister rebuke.

- And you better gussy her up, beloved sister – he smiled blackly and disappeared behind the door.

And in a moment, you and Helaena took your sweet time dolling you up.

After a few hours you were ready at last, literally radiating with divinity, your appearance would easily overwhelm The Seven themselves. Helaena left you ultimately, to check whether Aemond was prepared. You sat in the huge armchair, feeling uneasy, sipping wine and trying to drink your nervousness away. In maybe less than an hour you will be presented before the gathering of the most powerful people in the whole Westeros, like some mare on the runway. The very thought made you fidget, you were playing with some loose strands from your carefully done updo and mending your dress every moment.

After a long while you heard knocking on the door. You almost fell over when you stood up too souse, feeling gentle dizzle caused by the wine. Luckily you managed to keep your balance grabbing a chair in the last moment.

- Come in!

The door opened and a portly figure of The Prince appeared in front of you. Aemond was looking absurdly handsome, his long silhouette was clothed in black, jacquard doublet, made of some kind of shimmery atlas. His one shoulder was wrapped with scarlet red cape, linked to the other arm with silver, thick chain. He even wore a black, leather gloves, similar to the ones he was wearing while riding on Vhagar’s back, but more refined.

When he saw you he was clearly dazed, his eyes were wandering feverishly all over your figure, trying to memorize every inch of your being, as if you were some goddess.

- Seven hells... Damn the Maester and ceremonies, I am ready to marry you right here, right now – he kneeled before you demonstratively and kissed the back of your hand.

- I’m afraid we still have to go there and put up a show – you chuckled raising him up. He huffed with resignation.

- Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we? – he took you by your arm and faced the door.

- Aemond, wait... I’m nervous as hell... – you groaned feeling your guts twisting and pulled his arm back a bit.

- Imagine riding Carantes for the first time. It had to be enormously terrific but you did it.

- Believe me, I’d prefer to ride her first time for a thousand times.

- I’m here. I won’t let them hurt you in any way. Focus on me, my love and everything will be alright – he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him and he kissed the top of your head reassuringly. You nodded and both of you headed down the corridor, passing several guards.

Only now you did notice his different hairstyle as you peeked at the back of his head. He had three thick braids braided from the base of his head that joined into one at the back, the rest of his hair was loose. You couldn’t help but to touch his silky strands and ran your finger over perfectly weaved plaits. He noticed your sudden fascination and smiled lightly.

- Helaena insisted on combing them differently, more... exceptional.

- And she was right about it – you grinned widely and he blushed like a little boy at your complement.

You reached the Throne Hall where the feast was held and guards started to open big brass doors seeing you both. Once they were open you stepped in and all conversations, laughter and music stopped.

- Prince Aemond Targaryen and his betrothed, Lady Elaena Velaryon! – ser Harrold Westerling announced and everyone stood up with loud creak of pulled chairs.

You walked on your wobbly feet towards the main table ahead of The Iron Throne, where Aegon, Queen Alicent, Lord Otto, Helaena and other prominent guests were sitting. You could feel thousands pairs of eyes staring at you, watching your every move, causing goosebumps on your skin and shaking of your hand, the one not held by the Prince. And Aemond, he was bursting with pride, his only eye glanced around the crowd looking for signs of appreciation, while showing you to the world. You even heard some gasps of admiration released by some noble ladies caused by the sight of your outstanding gown. If it wasn’t for Aemond you would’ve already fell or escaped on Carantes if you would had enough consciousness. But his arm held you tightly, not giving you a single hint of doubt.

Alicent together with her father Lord Otto came to meet you, behind them Aegon alongside with Helaena, a quaint welcoming procession. Aemond and you stopped walking and bowed with grace before The Queen Dowager.

- You look stunning (ooo stunnin’! :p) my child. You are truly a perfect match for my son, I couldn’t have wished for anyone else – you let Alicent embrace you in a motherly manner almost as she kissed both your cheeks. You only smiled courteously in response.

- My daughter is absolutely right, Aemond can consider himself as the luckiest man in this realm – added Lord Otto, nodding in agreement.

- Yes I am, Grandfather. I am not worthy of this unworldly woman and yet she choose me – Prince smiled at you dreamily and laid his hand on the small of your back. You blushed like a ripe cherry.

- Gods, if I only knew that my brother would have such a bride, I would not marry Helaena and I’d try to court you myself – Alicent and Otto stepped aside and behind them emerged none other than Aegon, taking your hand and kissing it surely too much privately – I should call you my sister-in-law now, should I not? – he whispered provokingly into your ear, his filthy lips touched your earlobe slightly, making you shiver.

- Yes, your Grace – you answered casually, taking your hand off his grasp and he only grinned slimy at your indignant expression.

- Aegon, don’t be greedy, it’s my turn – Helaena pushed him away lightly, hugging you dearly – You must admit, those several hours of preparations were worthwhile, you knocked us all to our knees – she looked at you deeply with a sparkle in her eye.

- It is entirely your merit – you winked to her, causing her laugh heartily with a little “Oh, stop it!”.

Aemond stretched his arm out towards you, leading you to the head of the table. You took your seat on his right, while the rest of his family rested on the left side. You looked to your right and saw several empty seats, probably prepared for the Blacks. They still weren't there and you doubted they would arrive, the invitation itself was an insult to them, aside from your relationship with them or sentiments. You sighed with resignation as you were reconciled with the lack of allies by your side.

Members of the most distinguished families of Westeros began to offer you their congratulations and wedding gifts, forming a quite long line. You recognized most of them; Lord Elmo Tully of Riverlands, Lady Jeyne Arryn, called the Maiden of the Vale, Lord Lyonel Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Mander. As proud as a lion, Lord Tyland Lannister, current Master of coin for Aegon. You were surprised as you saw even a Martell delegation from Dorne as it wasn’t the part of the Kingdom, not officially at least. But your heart warmed up when you noticed deputation from The North, Lord Cregan Stark himself. He was a couple years older than you and you saw each other often when you were still children, as your families always tried to maintain friendly relations. But Cregan has grown up into a valiant, strong man with a raw, subdued beauty typical of the northern people. And yes, he was handsome, but not silky-smooth Targaryen handsome. He had storm-grey eyes, his face was sharp, very masculine, and his expression was very penetrating. The whole thing gave the impression of a wise man and confident in his judgment, despite his young age.

- Lady Elaena… You’ve grown so beautifully since I last saw you and I was only a little boy, scared of his own shadow – he was clearly smitten with you, but kept appearing aloof.

- Lord Stark, you also have changed for good – you graced him with the most radiant smile you could give and Aemond did not like that.

- My Lady, I have a humble gift for you though as not fanciful as I expected it to be – he opened a huge chest filled with thick, plenteous furs, possibly from a bear or a deer - Although the climate here is milder than in Winterfell, I thought you might need them when it gets colder or when you won’t have your husband by your side.

- Thank you, My Lord, it is a very generous present – you smiled politely.

- Initially, I wanted to give you a direwolf puppy, but I’m afraid your dragon would make a snack of it – he chuckled slightly.

- Yes, Carantes wouldn’t get along with it – you laughed charmingly as Lord Stark bowed to you once more and walked away to his table.

A few more members of smaller houses paid their tribute to you and you rendered them your thanks though you felt a bit weary already. When the line was finally over, Aemond tapped his glass, wanting to give his speech at last.

- Noble Lords and Ladies, your presence makes us extremely happy as you can all celebrate with us on this very special day along with my future wife, Lady Elaena. We are immensely grateful for your gifts and wishes and we hope that at least some of them will come true and our marriage will be as happy as your present moods – he glanced at you and you lifted your goblet gently – Let us drain our cups to this union, which will strengthen the unbreakable bond between House Targaryen and House Velaryon and will unite our bloodline for the next ages! Let The Seven Gods bless us all on this day and the days yet to come!

- Let the Gods themselves put women in our beds! – Aegon raised his peculiar toast and you only rolled your eyes with embarrassment, his mother yanked his hand, scolding him and Helaena drank from her cup unconsciously.

The actual feast has begun as the servants started serving food and drinks. You were picking a roasted pigeon with your fork sluggishly, not feeling very hungry. The lack of appetite was caused by all your nerves and stress still holding your body like a captured prisoner. Aemond saw your aversion and held your hand with concern.

- You should eat, my love. You won’t last long on the dancefloor without eating anything – he tried to cheer you up, while he himself did not spare the meal. The thought of obligation to dance with most of these people and Aemond himself made you consume slowly your already small portion.

As time went by on and food was eaten hurriedly, the right side of your table still remained empty. You've lost all hope of it getting full and having a chance to talk to someone else than Aemond.

When the guests filled their bellies with food and drinks, and the first noise of alcohol began to hit their heads, The Hand, Otto Hightower, rose from his chair and announced the next part of the celebration – the one you were most afraid of.

- Now that we are all fed, it is time for Prince Aemond to begin his first dance with his future wife, Lady Elaena! – he enunciated and clasped in his hands and the crowd followed, cheering loudly.

You had no chance but to take Aemond’s hand as he asked you to the parquet. Minstrels began to play some moderately paced melody and you were grateful for it. Prince turned you around slowly at the beginning and the hem of your gown swinged in the air, its material made it look like a living fire were dancing combined with streaks of blood. And you both started to sway along with the tune in unison as he led you through the various dance figures and you graciously responded to his guiding. You had to admit he was quite an airworthy dancer. He couldn’t resist but to touch your waist or arms at every possible opportunity, his eye was never leaving your flexing in motion body, admiring its every stretched curve, every inch of exposed skin, now reddened because of the movement. He once even spun you around so incredibly vigorously that your chest involuntarily landed on his taut torso, you had to laid your hand on it to regain your stability as he took advantage of the situation and dabbed his swollen lips against your uncovered neck and kissed it so stealthily that you doubted anyone noticed that. After that, as if nothing had happened he swirled you once more and when the melody reached its peak, he lifted you by your hips, bending over just a bit so you were forced to lean yourself back and you did at such angle that you saw people upside down and the whole world whirled before your eyes. The music stopped and the crowd cheered once again, this time more jauntily and Aemond slowly put you down, trying to not confuse your head more. After a short while you regained your balance and the world was spinning no more.

Alicent approached you both with a silver-blonde stranger with short hair (similar to ones Daemon wore when he came back from the first Stepstones conflict), when you first saw him at the table next to Helaena, you thought that he was some cousin of siblings, but his face seemed to be strangely familiar.

- Elaena, do you remember my youngest so…

- Daeron…?! – you’ve interrupted The Queen in halfway, instantly recognizing the ‘cousin’, your mouth were gaped in a surprise. Seven Gods, he was definitely not the same cute boy you remembered anymore. He grew out handsomely, but in entire different way than his older brothers – his pulchritude was much more lady-like, more delicate, subtler.

- How you’ve grown! I bet all the young ladies are after you – you embraced warmly the adolescent, dazed by your sudden outburst of feelings. And before he could say anything you took his hand and started walking to the parquet – My young Prince, you must absolutely dance with me!

- My Lady, shouldn't I be asking you to dance…? – he asked still being flabbergasted by your confidence this time. His voice was so fragile.

- Forget these nuances, this is my wedding feast after all. I may do whatever I like, including picking up on my future husband’s younger brother – you winked at him coquettishly and he blushed all over his face. Poor boy, he had never dealt with such a bold girl before and has not yet developed a proper attitude unlike his older siblings.

You started to sway along to some leisurely, rhythmic music as you tried to encouraged him to be more determined as he even struggled to grab your waist more firmly. Fortunately, other couples joined you on the dancefloor and boy immediately has felt safer as he finally looked straight into your eyes.

- I hope that my older brother will bring you happiness, My Lady – he said courteously, spinning you around deftly.

- Well, I will be rather happy with him but I won’t find peace with your brother – you said meaningly as you glanced at Aemond who was now observing you with curiosity, sipping his wine and talking to some lords.

- Maybe if I had offered our proposal sooner than he would then... – your eyes were open wide hearing this quite bold confession from young boy’s mouth.

- My sweet boy, we were engaged before you were even born – he reddened like a mature beetroot, realizing what stupidity he has just said – Besides, you wouldn't be able to handle my fiery temper. Only Aemond has this magic power – you laughed sincerely as you tried to cheer him up a little. Within a moment his eyes were sparkling again and you continued to sway through the middle of the hall.

- My turn – you heard Aegon’s slippery voice as he tapped on Daeron’s shoulder. Younger Prince bowed to you abashed and walked away speedily. You were left to this degenerate completely alone and you had to fight with an immense urge to escape.

- I didn’t know that you like flirting with younger ones – he said with an insolent grin making you grimace – But I think Aemond wouldn’t mind that, he was always fond of our little brother – his hands were wandering on your back, grasping your curves lasciviously.

- Are you sure that he is your own brother? Because he doesn’t resemble your audacity in any way, Aegon – you snapped back, trying to get off his uncomfortable grasp somehow. But he only smirked with pity seeing how miserable your efforts were.

- You should adress me as ‘My King’ or ‘Your Majesty’. Maybe I should visit your bedchamber tonight, when Aemond gets tired and teach you some manners… when you will be squealing and moaning underneath me – he whispered the last part of the sentence into your ear, causing you to shiver in an unpleasant way.

- And this will be before or after I cut off that wretched dick of yours?

- Stop bothering my bride, brother – you internally sighed with relief when you heard your fiancé voice. Aemond looked daggers at Aegon, pulling his arm off you and he took you into his sheltered ones. Young King said nothing as he only chuckled gloomingly, walking away to pester some poor maid who just happened to pass him by.

- I hope he didn't get you too angry – One-Eye said with some kind of amusement as he started to rock with you gently.

- No, he didn’t. But he suggested that he could teach me manners while fucking me.

- And maybe I should follow his footsteps and do the same? - he did not seem surprised in any way by his brother's proposal, he must have expected that. You eyed him threateningly – I can’t wait to tear this pretty dress off you, to lick all of that excitement off your body – he whispered in your ear, his honey-sweet voice stimulated your intimate parts, setting a delightful pressure. His tongue licked gingerly your skin from your earlobe to the crook of your neck, not paying any attention to the onlookers staring at you both now with unhealthy interest.

- Aemond, stop, we shouldn’t … It’s inappropriate – you gasped as you tried to push him away but he kept on groping you.

- I don’t care… Let them see and be jealous – he groaned with his mouth on your gamely exposed cleavage, the skin between your breasts was burning because of his touch. You moaned involuntarily causing some lady to look at you with resentment. Ser Criston noticed that and admonished the woman.

Your tenderness were interrupted violently by noisy rumble coming from opening huge, brass front doors. A sight behind them caused your heart to pop in your throat.

-Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and her husband Lord Corlys Velaryon! Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen with her royal consort, Prince Daemon Targaryen in the company of their children!

Your jaw nearly dropped to the floor as you watched your parents gliding at your direction. Your father, The Seasnake, in one piece, only limped with a cane. They were followed closely by Rhaenyra and Daemon, you could even notice Jacaerys with alongside with your nieces, Baela and Rhaena. Jace. What were you supposed to say to him? That you were sorry about his brother death and you couldn’t stop his Uncle from killing him? That Gods are cruel and let the madman took his revenge at last?

Your father’s grunt snapped you out of your thoughts and you hurled yourself into his open arms.

-Father…! I thought I’ve nearly lost you after Stepstones! Why no one sent me a raven…?! – you hugged him so tightly that he hissed slightly, still feeling his healing wounds.

- You know why, darling – he looked at you knowingly and you sighed. All ravens were controlled by the Greens and vice versa.

- My little girl, looking so beautifully – your mother took you in her warm embrace – My only pride. Only I’d wish you to marry someone more… decent – she looked at Aemond viciously.

- I’m happy that you finally arrived – The Prince felt like he got called on in class – We’re glad that you decided to join us in celebrations of this very special day and I hope for your blessing Princess Rhaenys… or should I call you mother? – he smirked at her barefacedly but his piercing gaze was focused on Daemon.

- I should bless you with blazing breath of Meleys but I’m afraid my daughter wouldn’t want that – she hissed. Aemond only chuckled lightly.

- Rhaenys! – her husband scolded her – Prince Aemond, latest events were… devastating for all of us. We wouldn't be here if it wasn't for our daughter – Lord Corlys excused his wife and guided her towards the table.

The Black Queen stepped forward and she took your hand, squeezing it a bit.

-Rhaenyra, My Queen...I… I… - you mumbled but you ran out of words.

- Shh, darling. It’s alright, you don’t have to say anything – she grabbed your chin delicately, your eyes were covered in tears – I want to see you enjoy yourself not crying – she wiped off your tear and gave you the most cordial smiled she could – Tough I must agree with your mother. You should marry someone more worthy of you… not a murderer of my son – she drawled out last words through teeth, casting a deadly look on Aemond. He only smiled mockingly in response.

- I must make it clear that our presence is an expression of honor for Lady Elaena – Rhaenyra said loud enough for everyone to hear – And I decided to come here for the sake of my old friendship with Queen Alicent – she gestured at Alicent and the Queen Dowager seemed to be moved by that mention of her.

- Rhaenyra… Come, sit with us. Let us forget every quarrel that divides our family and spend this night celebrating the joy of the young ones – Alicent took the other Queen by her hand and led her to the table. For a single moment it seemed to you that they were friends again, the same as they were all those years before.

- Jace… - you passed The Rogue Prince, who was visibly surprised by your lack of attention and you hugged oldest Rhaenyra’s son – I hope a day will come when you forgive me – you sobbed into his shoulder and he was stroking your back softly.

- I have nothing to forgive you, my dear cousin. I feel happy for you, I really do – he said sturdily when you finally let him go. But you knew he said the other sentence to go through the motions.

You glanced at Aemond fleetingly and he had this look aimed at Jacaerys, “I killed your bastard brother and you better be carefull boy or you might be next”.

Next, you embraced Baela and Rhaena without saying anything on purpose and they only returned your heartiness and made occasional compliments about your looks or dress. After a short courtesy girls followed their mother and sat at the table, leaving you and Aemond with Daemon.

- Skoros iā gevie budar iksā, ziry-zaldrīzes (What a beautiful bride you are, Dragoness) – The Rogue Prince said exceptionally politely as for him, calling you by nickname reserved for Aemond only – But it hurts me to see you’re wasting yourself for such a shit of a man – he whispered into your ear, gently kissing your cheek while holding your face. He meant it. You lingered to his touch, you’ve missed him. His perkiness, his attitude towards the world, his vast experience in various areas of life. He handled women in such different way than Aemond did and you liked that otherness.

- Why everyone claim they’re happy for me and despise my chosen one at the same time..? – you mumbled confused, lowering your eyes

- I’m the last person you should ask that question, sweet girl – he sighed but understood your perplexity – I have a gift for you and your future husband – Daemon snapped his fingers at a servant and he brought little, ornamental chest. Prince nodded and servant opened the chest, revealing a black lacy dress made of expensive silk. It was so skimpy that it truly left little to imagination and you doubted whether that ‘dress’ covered anything.

- Thank you, dear Uncle, for your sophisticated present. My wife shall wear it on our wedding night – Aemond put on a mask of false gratitude, sizing up his older rival. Daemon smirked craftily.

- You really want me to parade in such thing in front of my husband like some Penthosi whore? – you hissed, feeling the anger growing in you.

- And who said you’d wear it with him? – his voice lingered on your ear as he eyed his nephew. Now you had to fight with yourself to not to punch him but luckily for him, you heard a blurred yell coming from Aegon’s drunk mouth.

- Aemond, brother! Come here! You must help me bring our dear sister to her senses and I haven’t drank enough to do that! – he clearly had too many. And by sister he meant Rhaenyra obviously.

Your fiancé rolled his eyes, not willing to help his shiftless brother, but at this situation he had to.

- Excuse me, my dear – he kissed your cheek, eyeing his hateful Uncle for the last time. Then he hurried to save this pathetic damsel in distress.

- Come with me, I need to talk to you – Daemon took your hand and started pulling you to the front doors.

- Talk…? Maybe you should eat something first, you must be exhausted after such travel. Or dance with me at least, it would be much more proper – you stopped him but he looked at you as if you were a foolish child.

- Trust me, I do not desire food even though Caraxes has jaded me pretty good. And I can dance with you anywhere but here.

You glanced over the main table. There was a fierce discussion and you were afraid that there would be fights in a moment.

- You should be by Rhaenyra’s side right now.

- She will do just fine. Besides, I would add fuel to the fire – he looked at his wife who was gesticulating lively – Come before they change their minds and will start fight us instead – he added impatiently as he saw you still resisting.

Ultimately you gave up and both of you sneaked out of the hall. He guided you through the long hallway and turned into a narrow passage apparently leading you to some kind of loge preceded by quite a long vestibule. His knowledge of every nook of The Red Keep didn’t astonish you, he lived here for a few or a dozen years after all. That small room had a boudoir vibe almost and at the end there was a balcony overlooking one of the courtyards. Daemon peered through it, evidently making sure the place was appropriate and no one would find you here.

- I must admit you’ve disappointed me greatly, little doe. I’ve expected you to fly away to the Dragonstone directly after what happened at The Storm’s End – he broke the moment of silence, looking at you with reproach.

- Aemond threatened me he would kill my parents, you and Rhaenyra as well and put your dragons heads on spikes if I escape from him. What do you wanted me to do? – now you were the one with pretension.

- You would easily beat him with Carantes, it happens that your dragon is one of the few who would have come out of this duel unscathed.

- So you expected me to just kill the man who I love?! Is that what you wish to say?! – you were infuriated, not believing in what he has just said to you.

- Be glad that Rhaenyra haven’t decided to decapitate you for your treason.

- Treason…? What choice did I have?! - you fell silent for a while after another outburst to cool down – Besides, she wouldn’t do that.

- She would, if someone, for example me, convinced her to do so. Out of jealousy – he gazed at you, a familiar sparkle lit his eyes.

- Let's say I would go back to the Dragonstone What would I do? Marry you? – you scoffed at the vision.

- Why not? Aegon The Conquer had two wives – he really did believe in that vision.

- First, you’re already married. Second, you’re certainly not like The Conquer – you kept on mocking him.

- What, you think that I can’t satisfy my own wife? – he grabbed your jaw, clenching his fingers on it painfully. The spark in his eyes turned into a menace.

- If you would do this, you wouldn't be starting an affair with me, would you? – you hissed through your clasped mouth.

He didn’t grace that charge with an answer and just simply crushed his lips against yours as he was still holding your face. You gave back his feverish kiss eagerly, fighting with his tongue over dominance. He lifted you and walked with you towards the balcony, his lips were tracing chilled skin on your neck, irritated by a blast of the cold night wind. He placed you on the handrail, holding your back securely.

- Daemon, what the hell are you doing?! Someone might see us! – you glanced back looking for a living soul below. Luckily the yard was completely empty.

- Worry not, everyone is busy feasting – his hand was grasping your breast, covered only by a volatile material - You're not afraid I'll let you go, are you? – he stopped for a moment seeing your hesitation.

- No, I’m not. You can let me go and end my further anguish, I don’t care – you spread your arms out to demonstrate that you really did not care.

- Never – he huffed shutting your lips with his, spreading your legs wider, positioning himself between them. You could feel by his rigid bulge in pants that he was already pretty aroused.

His hand tugged your gown up to your waist and his long digits tipped your yet drenched folds, waiting for your permission. You nodded and one of his fingers slipped through your core smoothly, making you moan obscenely. His hand moved steadily at first, letting you accommodate to him, while his other hand slid down one of your dress straps, revealing your breast, covered with goosebumps, which he gladly took into his mouth, rasping the sensitive nipple with his teeth. His touch, his every move were always well thought, he always perfectly knew what woman wants and needs from him and what he was expected to do next. He had years of experience behind him and yes, he mostly gained it from pleasuring whores at the Silk Street, but which young royal man did not begin his adventure with the sphere of eroticism right there? All that mattered was that he was confident of his doings and didn’t intend to fail you, not in any way.

After a while a second finger joined in and your screams doubled in their intensity. His moves became more sweeping and you couldn't wait for him to start penetrating you with something else, something much more physical. He licked your skin, starting from the neck down to the breastbone where he placed a chaste kiss. Not for a moment did he allow himself to loosen his tight grip, even a little, holding you like a newborn. His more and more violent movements of the hand made you grasp the railing with both of your palms. You felt that you were going to reach your peak anytime soon and you wanted, no, you craved him inside you.

- Daemon, I need to feel you… Fuck! I need you inside! – you managed to breathe out between his harsh maneuvers. He smiled with satisfaction seeing your face already blown away.

- As My Lady wishes. Consider this as another wedding gift from me – Prince obediently took off his pants, ready to fulfill your order.

With one, firm push he was inside of you, his length stretched you out in the most pleasurable way. You dug your nails into his shoulders at the sensation, leaving bloody bruises. He groaned and punished you by grabbing your lip with his teeth and bit it to the blood. You hissed as licked off the red stain from your mouth.

His thrusts became to be so raging that the balustrade started to shake slightly and you were afraid it would collapse under your weight. Daemon saw your anxiety as you tried to slow down his hips and he  tried to kiss it away with one long and very passionate kiss.

- Eman ao, ȳdra daor sagon zūgagon (I have you, don't be afraid) – he soothed you but still he slowed his movements a bit, letting you feel every inch of his swollen cock thoroughly.

You tilted your head back, seeing stars almost as the pleasure he gave you overwhelmed your entire body. He leaned his head between your bouncing breasts, breathing hoarsely. After few more fierce strokes he lifted you again and turned around so now you were admiring the beauty of the starlit night sky above the King’s Landing. He didn’t give you much time to enjoy the sight because he took you from behind, like a lion copulating with a lioness. His hand kneaded your breast like some dough while the other played with your exposed clit, coaxing more and more throaty moans from you. Again, you had to lean on the handrail to ease the force of his robust pushes.

- Dakogon qrīdrughagon lēda nyke, sagon biare syt istin isse aōha ābrar. Ziry daoriot gūrogon ao (Run away with me, be happy for once in your life. He doesn't deserve you) – Daemon whispered into your ear, biting the earlobe, without slowing down the pace of his increasingly dynamic thrusts.

- Iksā iā ribazmoqitta vala, ivestragon bisa ra, ñuha raoro dārilaros (You are a mad man, saying such things, My Rogue Prince – you managed to answer somehow despite your poor cunt being totally ravaged by his manhood.

- Pendagon nūmāzma ziry, yn adhirikydho. Konīr iksis iēdrosa mirri jēda geptot. Kostan gūrogon ao tolmiot qrīdrughagon hen kesīr, skoriot ziry kostagon daor māzigon ao (Think about it, but quickly. There is still some time left. I can take you far away from here, where he can't reach you).

He still tried to convince you to leave all of this, to leave the love of your life, Aemond and escape with him. But you didn’t had much time to consider it as he just changed the angle of his movements and began to hit that very spot inside of you. You screamed imploringly, begging him for your release. But he has not done with you yet.

You must have set a stone rolling because a certain spectator has been watching your actions for a quite long time. Aemond was lured by your yells and now he has observed both of your half-naked figures covered only with curtains fluttering in the wind. You were childish in your naivety, thinking that he wouldn’t notice, with his one eagle eye, your and his Uncle disappearing at the same time and that he would not find it suspicious. He was standing there, hidden behind the tall wardrobe, devastated and heated by the sight of you being taken by another man, the one he would rather threw off that balcony. But he decided to not intervene as he thought the punishment he has prepared for you will be much more severe.

In the meantime you were just getting closer to your climax as Daemon pounded into you ruthlessly, the sound of clapping skin against skin was so obscene that it was the last straw for Aemond and he noiselessly disappeared behind the doors. But you noticed some strange motion in the darkness and you shudder.

- Daemon, I think I saw something… or someone – you gasped in numbness.

- It’s nothing, just the wind playing with door - as if nothing had happened, he continued his frantic moves – Focus on me, byka hontes (little bird). Vāedagon syt nyke istin tolī se māzigon, nyke udrāzma ao naejot (Sing for me once more and come, I command you to).

And as he ordered, your walls started to clench around his throbbing cock, his thrusts were chaotic, unstable, you knew he wouldn’t last long. A little bit more of stretching your already taut cunt and you came, you came so hard that you milked all over his length, your juices were dripping down his shaft. A lubberly, long moan escaped your lips and you ran out of steam as you leaned your forearms on the banisters. Daemon managed to pull out on time and shot his warm cum all over your soaked folds and ass cheeks. You both panted heavily and he showered your neck and back in sloppy kisses.

- We should go, little one. Someone must have noticed our absence by now – he started to wipe off his seed off you and after that he adjusted your dress, kissing your breast for the last time before hiding it under the fabric. You smiled weakly and tried to fix your messed up updo, hoping no one would notice your dubious state and certainly not Aemond.

- You should take my advice for once in your life and save yourself – he looked at you worried, you knew he really cared about you.

- I can’t be saved – you responded grimly as you passed him, walking through the door.

Both of you sneaked back to the Throne Hall, fortunately most of guests were too drunk to notice your arrival. But not Aemond. He was as sharp as a razor, looking at you acutely, while he was talking to Daeron. You could tell that something was not right about him by his single gesture.

-Ah, there you are, my little dove. I was wondering whether my presence has bored you so deeply that you had to fled with my Uncle – he sneered gazing at Daemon racily.

- Well, I needed some fresh air and Daemon was kind to accompany me on a walk, while you were busy with fierce discussion – you answered without a blink.

- Hmm… I guess then you have rested enough to dance with me once more before this night is over – he gave you this specific look, making you shiver.

- Oh yes, as I recall you wanted to dance with me – Daemon grinned seemingly amused. Aemond casted a questioning look on you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck – that was your only thought.

You were literally dragged to the middle of the hall by the younger Prince and everyone’s eyes were glued to you. Daemon took his older daughter Baela to keep up appearances and positioned theirselves right behind you. You looked desperately at ser Ryon who was standing next to one of tables. Ser Harrold, his father, who was on the opposite side of the room, saw your distress and nodded to his son. Young knight rushed to you instantly, took your hand and pushed back Aemond slightly who was taken aback by his daring. Helaena quickly replaced you, calming her brother.

-Too many Targaryens, my Lady? – the knight tried to uplift you, smiling encouragely.

- You have no idea – you replied wobbly.

A complete silence fell on the room and moments later hollow, resounding music filled the space, harsh sounds of drums and trumpets reminded you of wolves howling deep in the forest. Because this was a mating song of alpha males, circling you like ravenous vultures.

Ser Ryon stepped forward together with you and turned you around to the beat of the music. World whirled along with Aemond and Daemon, who were trying earnestly to recapture you back but with no effect as ser Ryon was quite persevering to keep you beside him. Nevertheless both Princes were circling each other gradually, with obstinate expressions, their fists clasped, a display of domination, with their poor, not expecting anything partners to cover up. In the long run Aemond got to capture your forearm, clutching it tightly, his nose smelling your neck thoroughly.

-I can still sense him on you… - he hissed to your ear, nearly snarled. You were so startled by his comment that you almost stumbled over his knee, now embeded between your legs.

- What…?

But you didn’t get to drill further, because ser Ryon spinned you back to him, your hands landed on cool metal of his breastplate. You glanced behind him and saw Daemon approaching to you alongside with Baela, pretending to blend into dance moved. When he was close enough he brushed your waist with his palm tenderly, looking into your eyes with determined smile, as if he was still trying to convince you to run away. You gazed upon the main table. Your mother stared at you quite shocked, did she suspect you had an affair with Daemon? Did she know? Did she despise you somehow?

You squeezed Daemon’s hand lightly as response to his gesture, after that you pushed him back and returned in a slick move to ser Ryon. But Aemond saw that short interaction between you two, his fists became pale white from constant clenching, his face was filled with wrath. He felt humiliated, watching his Uncle openly seducing his future wife, persuading you to escape from him, like he was a monster that majority believed him to be. He couldn’t have that no longer.

One-Eye paced towards Daemon, his arm ready to strike, his other hand laid on sheath of the sword. Helaena tried to stop him by pushing his shoulder back and she did manage to restrain him, but only for a little while. In the meantime, Baela jostled her father to the side as Rogue Prince intented to face his younger reflection. You stood still as you watched the situation getting more tense in front of you, but you already had a plan how to use it.

-Ser Ryon, I need you to escort me to my chambers – you ordered to the knight who was a little of balance hearing your request.

- My Lady, I don’t think I should, The Prince is still here…

- That’s an order – you practically drawled out through your teeth. Your sworn shield saw your ‘can’t bear any objection’ look and took your arm, leading you out of the hall at a fairly quick pace. As you passed the door you could feel shrill Aemond’s gaze upon your back, causing your skin goosebumps.

You and ser Ryon were practically running, the hem of your gown fluttered over smooth surface of marble flooring, giving a impression of flowing blood puddle. You heard heavy boot steps, following you from behind the corner, not rushy ones, but fleet enough to catch you up. You shivered, an earsplitting pulse in your temples drowned out any voices of common sense.

- He must be thinking that I want to escape with Daemon – you panted, slowing down a little for a moment, your hand landed on your chest, feeling the sharp heart pounding.

- If I may be honest with you, my Lady, you should do so – the knight replied with obviousness, not letting go of your hand and carried on leading you down the long corridor. You knew he was right, but right thing not always meant a peaceful and reasonable solution.

The clatter of boots didn’t stop, on the contrary, it became louder, more baleful, Aemond got you within arm’s reach. Finally, ser Ryon reached the destination with you, you glanced back at estuary of hallway. An enlarging shadow of a man haunted you, dancing in the torchlight ominously.

- You must go, Aemond will throw your head as a snack to Vhagar, thinking that you helped me to run – you pushed ser Ryon along the dark passage, but the knight stood fixedly, staring at you as if he didn’t quite believe that you didn’t decide to slip away with him. You squeezed his covered in metal glove hand, your other palm rested on his breastplate as you casted an assuring look on him. He only nodded and when you expected him to turn around and walk away, he grabbed your chin gently and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, it was so devotional that only a cavalier was capable of such act. You were so thunderstruck by this gesture that a mere sound of fauny whimper left your lips and you watched as ser Ryon dissapeared within the surrounding darkness of the alley.

But you didn’t have much time to contemplate over audacity of your sworn shield, because from the corner of your eye you saw the hem of the prince's crimson cloak sticking out from behind the opposite wall. You entered the chamber hurriedly and rushed to the mirror, pretending to take off your attire and prepare to bed. Within a second the door opened again and Aemond slipped through, almost noiselessly. You saw his reflection in glass, he savoured your half-naked figure as you tried to untie the black chiffon stripe on your waist.

- Would you help me with the gown…? – you asked, still wrestling with the belt.

- Hmmm… - he hummed gruffly in response and approached you slowly like a like a lion stalking its prey.

His slender hands unwrapped the obstinate piece of fabric cleverly, getting you out of the layers of material. The dress fell on the floor unwittingly, you stepped out of it, revealing your naked body, bathed in dim candlelight. You laid down on the bed as if nothing had happened, Aemond didn’t move even an inch, but you could tell by his enchanted look that he already imagined his naked form beside you.

- This is very inappropriate of you, fleeing from the feast in its midst, leaving your fiancé to the waiting guests – he admonished you, his voice sounded like the pretentious tone of an annoyed Maester, from whom an unruly student ran away. But his eye, his only eye couldn't resist your charms, which you tried to hide under a layer of satin duvet.

- I’m tired, Aemond. I won’t stand another round of sweeping the dancefloor among drunk people. I’m sure that guests will understand if you explain this politely – you tried to inveigle him fluttering your eyelashes coquettishly. He only eyed you indulgently – Before that you can join me for a while, help me fall asleep – you smiled deceitfully and for a moment you thought he took the bait, but in a flash the composed facade of a Prince fell, revealing a wrathful visage of a hellish cerberus.

- Maybe I should call Daemon, he’s way better in fucking you blind from that I saw – Aemond’s venomous words got you in a chokehold. You stared at him, flabberghasted, unable to utter a word.

- What… How…?

- Your sweet moans lured me, my little dove. You weren't so naive to think I wouldn't notice you disappearing with him, were you? – he approached the bed, revealing your legs from under the sheets. His cold fingers stroked your exposed skin, wandering from your calf to the lower thigh, making you tremble under his touch.

- Aemond, I…

- Shh. I must admit that the sight of him ravaging you got me even aroused a bit – he licked his lips, his hand was circling your knee now – But I won’t let my Uncle mock me by taking you secretly, persuading you to escape with him from me – his grip tightened on your upper tight – Did you want to leave me, little bird? – he pinched you in the groin painfully, causing you to whimper.

- No, Aemond, I would never… I don’t want to…! – you squealed, catching his hand, wanting to loose the intensity of his hold.

All of sudden he let you go, only to unclasp the buckle of his cape, meaty, crimson red material fell on the floor with a metal clank of a silver chain. His goring gaze stripped you out of your skin and bones, leaving you forceless. He laid on the edge of bed, weight of his body still covered in velvety garments overwhelmed you. Nonetheless there was something sinful in the way the plushy textile touched your skin, making it slightly pink.

- Then why did you let him violate you, defile that beautiful body of yours, you silly little dove? You wanted that, didn’t you? – his hot breath wrapped you like a thick smoke, choking your sense of dignity. You didn’t have to say anything, he knew the answer perfectly well.

His hand, still covered with leather glove, clutched around your neck menacingly, your eyes watered with tears. Aemond looked at you fondly almost, misleading you.

- I’m going to convince you over and over again, that I’m the only man you’ll ever crave – he hissed into your ear, nibbling it. His hand wandered  to one of your breasts, kneading it like a piece of dough, a silent moan escaped your mouth. The other hand slipped down to your pubic mound, galling its sensitive structure, while his teeth nipped skin on your arched neck as you tilted your head back.

One of his digits flitted through your already wet folds, pressing them messily and without a warning he pushed it into your slit. Your eyes rolled back at the sensation of smooth, thick leather of his gauntlet sleeking your walls, a guttural scream left your opened lips. Just after that a second finger joined in, stretching you in a most delicious way, his hand was moving at a punishing pace, barely stimulating you. You hustled your hips forward, meeting his movements, literally sticking yourself on his fingers, chasing after your own satisfaction. Prince smirked with amusement seeing your desperate attempts of getting what you needed.

- He doesn’t fuck you like I do, not even with fingers, admit that, nuha ziry-zaldrīzes (my Dragoness) – he whispered fervently against your cheek, licking it lewdly, his tongue left a trickle of saliva. A lengthy groan of yours confirmed his statement.

His thumb seized your clit, rubbing it intensively, his fingers kept on drilling your insides. Your legs spread wider, giving him easier access to pleasure you, your toes squirmed, messing the bedsheet, your fingers sticked to his long, silky hair, tattering them. He must liked it, because he purred like a little kitten, shoving his head into your palm.

Aemond got you on the verge of orgasm and every time he felt your pussy started to clench around his fingers, he slowed down his moves to annoyingly sluggish pace, causing you to mewl pitifully, begging for more. You even grabbed his hand and tried to maneuver it at desirable angle but he resisted, giving you a freezing look.

- U-uh, little dove. You don’t deserve a release tonight, not after you let another man touch you – he tutted and kissed you sensually, biting your lower lip and tugging it feistly.

He returned to fucking you with his fingers, more cruelly this time, pushing you to the edge of climax again. This game of cat and mouse got you drove you up the wall, your mind was confused because of constant denial and permission to reach the peak, your body quivered in convulsion. Your lover watched you with wicked satisfaction, apparently he enjoyed torturing you, his fingers went back and forth your soaked cunt, the only audible sound was wet tapping of the skin. You knew that if his fingers won’t give you what you wanted or if he won’t just fuck you, then you would descent into a complete madness.

- Aemond, please… I need your cock inside of me… I need you to fuck me…! – you fizzled, your voice was drenched in desperation. You looked into his eye imploringly, but it was unswerving.

- Oh no, little dove. You won’t get any of that, I won’t reward you. You need to be punished, so that you remember who you really belong to – to underline his words his fingers almost stopped moving, lazily sliding within your walls. Your woe has turned to anger as you grabbed gustily the growing bulge in his pants, twisting it and crumpling it severely. This bastard wouldn’t gloat over your suffering.

He hissed, pulling out of you his fingers completely, you pierced him with a killing gaze. Digits of his glove were soaked with your juices, which he licked off thoroughly, shoving his long finger deeply in mouth and took it out with a loud pop.

- I can still taste him. He spoiled such a divine relish, what a waste – he huffed with disgust and just as he was about to turn to leave, his gaze landed on your fingers, toying with your still burning pussy. You pushed them there and back down your hole without taking your eyes off him, smirking perfidiously and moaning obscenely, enough to boil him up.

Aemond clenched his fists, his mouth narrowed in a thin line, a vein popped out on his temple. He was looking at you agitated, internally fighting with himself to do not fling you deeper into the mattress and take you blindly. You saw that conflict within him and you smiled even more as your fingers carried on their handiwork, his eye was hypnotized by their smooth motions. After a while he managed to gain his composure and recovered, a mask of sedate and unruffled prince was back on his face.

- I’m going back to guests, tell them that you feel tired and needed to rest – he turned to door and grabbed the handle – In the meantime you can try to pleasure yourself with that slick fingers of yours. Or you can call your lover and he will put you out of your misery. But if you pick the latter, be aware that I will feed both of you to Vhagar. And your dragon will be torn apart by its mother – the shadow of his threat stayed in the chamber while he himself left, leaving you defeated and bashed with your own pride.

You fell down on the bed unconsciously, your body perished savagely, your still wet folds were dripping down with lasts of arousal. You wanted to kill two birds with one stone as you once did, trusting your guts too much. And now you were laying on this bed, alone, abandoned by both of your lovers, feeling beaten and humiliated. You danced with two Devils, forgetting that only one could grant you an eternal condemnation and salvation at the same time.

 

This is it guys, your fav Aemond&Daemon duo came back and it surelly will again in the near future! I've already started writing the next part and it will contain more fluffy, tender Aemond but also kinky as f... version of him, so be ready. :P

Thanks for reading and I will appreciate any kind of feedback in comments!

If you wish to be tagged, please let me know in comments.

Taglist:

@moonmaiden1996

@omgsuperstarg

@claudie-080102

@gabrieletargaryen

@mllemarianne

@em-the-lurker

@roroswitherose

@treasuresposts

@starsarebind

[horizon-verizon]

TG loves to criticize Aegon's prophecy, because they say that it only feeds that Targaryens think they have a divine right to rule, if I remember it was GRRM who put this in the series, so if the author put it it's because he must be saying yes… They have some divine right to rule

*EDITED POST* (5/8/24 -- included list of non Andal-considered incest and how the Doctrine was for Jaehaerys & Alysanne to marry/the dynasty to follow a Valyrian custom, not for blood purity, since blood purity rules you cannot marry to "muddy" the lineage)

I don't think it's "divine right to rule" so much as they were necessary for all humans to survive this magical catastrophe. "Divine right" means that the gods allowed or created you to rule either in their stead or to uphold the "land's" values so no one but a royal (sometimes not even then, just the monarch) can legitimately argue or seriously question them. that they can't be held accountable by any "earthly" authority: peasants, aristocrats, the Pope sometimes, etc. It's an argument many absolute rulers like the French kings of the 17th-18th century, Henry VIII, James I/VI, etc. used to justify why they should rule. An argument that they developed from the already present belief that God afforded "earthly" power to kings and spiritual power to the Pope/Church.

The Targs are humans with strong ties to magic (thematically AND physically) and the ability to ride dragons, but having magic and being religious are not always mutually inclusive. Jaehaerys uses the cultural element of the Faith, the extant Andal aristocratic idea of a ruler's divinity to justify his family's rule/his marriage to Alysanne and make enemies of the state anyone who opposes him/the marriage/the dynasty because the Targs were still seen as just as subject to the Andal- descendants' interpretations of divinity, incest, etc. And he made sure that dragonriding was the indicator of divinity or that the gods sought to make the Targs "worthy" to lead through them being "bestowed" these powerful beasts. It tries to legitimize dragon riding through a different interpretation of an already present religious/institutional principle/arguing religion and the gods' allowing them to rule AND justifies his marriage to Alysanne (love and personal aspect), secures the Targs' continuing to follow their own Valyrian customs just as Northmen do theirs and Andals do theirs--those customs, that like Andal/FM customs, allow incest for power consolidation (politics), as all aristocratic marriage customs have done in both fiction and real life.

The Doctrine never forbade the "mixing" of blood (which is actually blood purist), Targs marrying/having sex with those outside of their own family, etc. The Targs often did marry "out", or those who didn't marry a sibling/uncle-aunt:

Rhaena and Androw Farman (m)/Elissa Farman (s/l/i)

Aenys and Alyssa Velaryon

Maegor and 5 of his wives, the first being a Hightower

Aemon the Prince and Jocelyn Baratheon

Daella and Rodrick Arryn

Viserra and Theomore Manderly (engaged to be)

Viserys I and Aemma Arryn

Rhaneyra and Laenor

Rhaenyra and Harwin (s/l/i)

Daemon and Rhea Royce

Daemon and Laena Velaryon

Baela and Alyn Velaryon

Rhaena and Corbray/that Hightower

Maekar I and Dyanna Dayne

Rhaegar and Elia/Lyanna

Aerys I and Aelinor Penrose

Daemon Blackfyre and Rohanne of Tyroseh

Aegon III and Jaehaera

Aegon III and Daenaera Velaryon

Aegon IV and his various mistresses (s/l/i)

Elaena and all her 3 husbands (m); plus her affair with Alyn Velaryon (s/l/i)

Daeron II and Mariah Martell

Daenerys [II] and Maron Martell

Aegon V and Betha Blackwood

Rhaelle and Ormund Baratheon

Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones

Duncan and Kiera of Tyrosh

Valarr and Kiera of Tyrosh

Rhaegal and Alys Arryn

Magic and religious ties to it or priests (esp for the god R'hollor) using magic is the done-deal fact in the ASoIaF universe, but there is a skepticism of religion generated from several events in both the main series, and the accompanying works (Fire and Blood and Egg-Dunk's series) where people go through or witness atrocities and they look kinda askance at their gods. Or they doubt their ability to rise to whatever occasion that they think or were told to do in the name of /supported by whatever god(s). We the readers are meant to realize and be skeptical of religion's influence, not believe the Targs morally or ethically deserve the throne IN GENERAL, or to lead just because they had dragons.

In other words, let's be careful about how we characterize the Targs' rule. Yes, people who say they were colonizers or imperialists in Westeros are dumb. Yes, those who argue that the Targs are worse than other Westerosi nobles/former kingdoms/are in some sort of class struggle with literally every lord in Westeros in various periods are not working with a full basket of white matter. Yes, most green stans are totally in denial and refuse to learn how to read. However, the large point behind our criticizing these arguments is to show how ubiquitous power-seeking is for aristocrats of any and all lineages/backgrounds.

[marwyn]

asoiaf themed asks: 9 [build your own small council] & 39 [drunk history] <3

9. Build your own small council with any characters dead or alive

Hand of the Queen: Septon Barth, “more sorcerer than septon,” “the wisest man ever to serve as Hand of the King,” and purveyor of “nonsense” theories such as “Valyrian priests believed that the Doom of Man would begin in Westeros”

Grand Maester: Archmaester Marwyn (😼) or Sarella “Alleras” Sand or Samwell Tarly once they finish their training. Need someone who won’t poison me unlike the conservative maester majority

Mistress of coin: Elaena Targaryen, enough said

Master of laws: thinking about the fact that Daemon was briefly Master of Laws which is just so funny. I honestly can’t think of a great candidate though so I’ll nominate him for entertainment value

Master of ships: I might pick Asha Greyjoy were it not a near certainty that she’ll be needed to rule on Pyke after the War for the Dawn. Maybe Aurane “steal your ships” Waters or Davos as long as his Stannis brainworms are truly gone

Mistress of whisperers: Arya Stark’s training in Braavos (languages, reading expressions and controlling her own, detecting lies, stealth, gathering information) makes her a perfect candidate and furthermore she can skinchange with cats which are everywhere at the Red Keep

Lord Commander of the Queensguard: my boy Dunk

39. Your Drunk History topic (a character/theory/event/etc)

I’d probably start rambling about Jon Snow’s parallels with various Targaryen queens (and Elizabeth of York….)

asoiaf asks

[wnterreign]

with  elaena  targaryen   |   @qcyqoyi​

        as  wary  as  he  was of  most of the southern royal family, harry understood it was important for the realm that they remain on good terms. a war between the north and the south would only bring about hardship and sorrow for the people. so he approached the eldest targaryen princess with every intention to put his best foot forward as was his duty as crown prince.        ❝   your highness, you look beautiful.   ❞

[sebeth]

Fire And Blood: Aegon (pre-Conquest)

Warning, Spoilers Ahead…

  I started my re-read of the entire “Song of Ice and Fire” saga with “The World of Ice and Fire” book.  I’m at Aegon’s Conquest in the World of Ice and Fire which is also the beginning of “Fire and Blood”. So I’m going to bounce back and forth between the two books to cover the events from Aegon’s Conquest to the Regency of Aegon III (the Dragonbane).

The World of Ice and Fire was written by Maester Yandel and Fire and Blood was authored by Archmaester Gyldayn.

Yandel’s tome was a gift for the Baratheon kings while Gyldayn’s book is a history of the Targaryens in Westeros.

“Aegon’s Conquest” contains material I’ve covered in the “World of Ice And Fire” so a quick recap:

·         Dates in Westeros or AC (After the Conquest” or BC (Before the Conquest).

·         Such dating is imprecise as there is no specific ending date for the Wars of Conquest.

·         Aegon the Conqueror dated the start of his reign from “the day he was crowned and anointed” and not the day he began his conquest two years earlier.

·         Most of the actual Conquest took place in 2 – 1 BC.

·         Valyria was the greatest city in the known world, the center of civilization.

·         Dozens of rival houses “vied for power and glory in court and council”.

·         The Targaryens were pure-blooded Valyrian dragon lords of an ancient lineage but far from the most powerful of the lords.

·         Twelve years before the Doom of Valyria (114 BC), Daenys “the Dreamer” Targaryen had a dream that foretold the destruction of Valyria.

·         Aenar Targaryen, the father of Daenys, sold his holdings in the Freehold and the Lands of Long Summer, gathered all “his wives, wealth, slaves, dragons, siblings, kin, and children” and moved to Dragonstone, an island off the coast of Westeros.

·         Dragonstone had been the “westernmost outpost of Valyrian power for two centuries”. The Targaryens along with the Velaryons of Driftmark and the Celtigars of Claw Isle (two Valyrian houses of lesser descent) used Dragonstone to dominate the trade traffic of the middle reaches of the Narrow Sea.

Did Aenar forewarn anyone else of the upcoming destruction of Valyria? Was he doomed to be a Cassandra-type figure – warning of destruction only to be ignored? Or did he simply not care and used the future destruction of Valyria as the most ruthless move in the “game of thrones” ever?

Were the Velaryons and the Celtigars located on Driftmark and Claw Isle before the Aenar’s migration of did they arrive with him?

Back to the recap:

·         The hundred years after the Doom of Valyria is called the Century of Blood. House Targaryen ignored Westeros.

House Targaryen’s leadership during the Century of Blood was as follows:

1.       Aenar “the Exile” Targaryen

2.       Gaemon “the Glorious” Targaryen & Daenys “the Dreamer” Targaryen (Aenar’s children)

3.       Aegon & Elaena Targaryen (Gaemon & Daenys’ children)

4.       Maegon Targaryen (Aegon & Elaena’s son)

5.       Aerys Targaryen (Aegon & Elaena’s son)

6.       Aelyx Targaryen (Aerys’s son)

7.       Baelon Targaryen (Aery’s son)

8.       Daemion Targaryen (Aery’s son)

9.       Aerion Targaryen (Daemion’s son)

Aerion would wed Lady Valaena Velaryon, who was half-Targaryen on her mother’s side. They would have three children: Visenya, Aegon, and Rhaenys.

Aegon wed his elder sibling, Visenya, as custom dictated, and Rhaenys, his youngest sibling, because he felt like it.

“The custom amongst the dragonlords of Valyria to wed brother to sister to keep the bloodlines pure.” I understand the reason for the post-Doom inbreeding (lack of Valyrian options) but why was it the custom pre-Doom? Wouldn’t another non-related pure-blooded Valyrian dragon lord work as well as a sibling minus the nasty inbreeding aspects? Was it really a custom in Valyria or was it simply a falsehood stated by the Targaryens to justify the ongoing sibling marriages?

 ·         Only one of the five dragons that accompanied Aenar to Dragonstone survived to the beginning of the Conquest: Balerion the Black Dread. Vhagar and Meraxes hatched on Dragonstone.

·         A common myth states Aegon never stepped foot on Westeros before the Conquest but it is untrue. There are reports of Aegon and Visenya visiting the Citadel of Oldtown and as guests of Lord Redwyne on the Arbor. Aegon may have visited Lannisport as well.

Up next, a recap of the Seven Kingdoms pre-Conquest and the differences between Aegon, Visenya, and Rhaenys.

[thetrailofyourbloodinthesnow]

ASOIAF meme

I was tagged by the wonderful @incurablescribbler

Tagging @sansalayned @sansadavar @riana-one @queen-daenerys @1nsaankahanhai-bkr @the-lady-rae @sincerelysansa @ramzesfics

Rules:

1. Answer the questions of the people who tagged you and ask ten questions of your own.

2. Tag ten people.

Questions:

For Sansa I think about how she's capable of retaining her kindness and empathy and hold on to her ideals despite the trauma she suffered at KL. Something similar to Brienne who sees the falsehood of knights who don't follow their oaths but instead of giving up on knighthood she becomes the hero that she needed.

2. What is one aspect of your favourite character that you’ll defend no matter what?

That Sansa ain't stupid. Her judgement gets clouded by her naïveté early on, but I think she's actually very perceptive and understands people and their motives and is clever enough to figure out some very important plot points without realizing.

3. Your ASOIAF pet peeve.

All those ladies dying at childbirth, just ugh!

4. Do you fantasize scenes with your favourite character? If yes, what is your favourite headcanon regarding him/her?

I spend an embarrassing amount of time fantasizing about my favorite characters. And chatting with @incurablescribbler has made me thought a lot about Aemon the Dragonknight. Most of my headcanons about him are super sad, but there's one that's pure fluff and it goes likes this; as a kid, when his sister was bedridden he would read to her poems and stories of chivalry and courtly romance, and as a result he became a damm good storyteller and could recite poetry like a champ. He grew as fond of those stories as Naerys was but after he joined the Kingsguard he didn't have time for them anymore. But it would sometimes show on his speech, like, when he told a story he wouldn't just say "we arrived at the castle at dusk," he'd say "we arrived at the castle gates as the sun light disappeared over the horizon, leaving behind clouds of orange and purple hues," or some shit like that. And that use of romantic language kinda added to his reputation as the melancholic heartsore knight who cried at his sister's wedding, even though he wasn't really like that. It would annoy him to no end and he would complain about it to Naerys like, "all these ladies think I'm a forlorn puppy that they want to take care of and stop laughing sister, this is all your fault!"

5. Why do you not like your least favourite character?

I have an issue with people who do mess up shit for the "greater good" and are willing to sacrifice others for their cause, which is why I dislike characters like Rheagar and Melisandre. I actually prefer characters who are evil and selfish but are honest about it, than those who have good intentions but are huge hypocrites in their actions.

6. Who is your favourite historical ASOIAF character? (Pre AGOT and Robert’s Rebellion)

Aemon the Dragonknight and Queen Naerys are my all time favorites, but also there are a lot of characters from the generations between the aftermath of the Dance of Dragons and the Blackfyre Rebellions that I love; Aegon III and Viserys II, Rhaena and Baela, Elaena, Missy Blackwood, Mariah Martell and Dearon II, Baelor Breakspear and Maekar, Bloodraven and Shiera Seastar, and of course, Dunk and Egg. Basically, I prefer Targaryen history when they're dragonless lol.

7. What do you think is the most glaring flaw in ASOIAF?

I don't know if it is the most glaring flaw, but something that always bother me was how many women are brush aside as unimportant after they give birth to important characters and we just have to assume that they died, also all those unnamed mothers of main characters.

8. Who is a “villainous” character you feel would have much better in slightly changed circumstances?

Littlefinger. I think he would had grown up to be ambitious and manipulative no matter what but he wasn't unfeeling, and if the duel with Brandon and its aftermath hadn't happened he would have been a different person. He certainly wouldn't be obsessed with getting revenge from the Starks and the Tullys and the Arryns, and Westeros history would have been very different indeed.

9. Who is a near forgotten-character you want to know about?

The Ghost of High Heart? She only appears twice iirc, makes a bunch of prophecies, give us a crazy interesting backstory and then disappears. I want to know more.

10. What is your favourite/least favourite ASOIAF theory? Why?

I stopped reading ASOIAF theories a while ago 'cause at this point I'm done speculating and I'm just waiting for GRRM to tell the story. But my favorite prior to that was the Southron Ambitions theory, it just makes a lot of sense to me and it makes the period leading to Robert's Rebellion more intriguing. And my least favorite was every variation of the "Tyrion is a secret Targ" theory because I'm not up for disrespecting Joanna Lannister like that.

My questions:

1. A unrealistic headcanon about your favorite character that you hold unto no matter what.

2. Do you have a favorite time period of ASOIAF history?

3. Favorite/Least favorite ship?

4. Is there any character that you relate to?

5. Has your opinion regarding a character or an event change beacause of the fandom?

6. Are you annoyed that the show will spoil the ending?

7. A subplot that you wish were more explored

8. Two characters that you wish they would meet, and two characters that you wish they had never encountered each other.

9. Favorite character that you feel that gets ignored.

10. A villain that you love to hate and why.

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Do you think Targaryens age he same way and at the same rate as others? Like do they ever go bald? And then there was Elaena too who seemed to get better with age. Do you think Valyrian genes are different here? Thanks.

Certainly Targaryens age like normal people? Consider Amok’s Targaryen portraits, and the descriptions GRRM provided for them. In particular, let’s look at Jaehaerys I and his queen, Alysanne:

JAEHAERYS I. The Old King. The Conciliator. Jaehaerys reigned for fifty-five years. Let’s show him late in his reign as an old man, as that is how he is best remembered. Wise and dignified. Despite his years, still unstooped, but his face and hands are wrinkled, and his long white beard reaches to his waist.

GOOD QUEEN ALYSANNE: Alysanne was the queen, consort, and sister of King Jaehaerys I, the Old King, and like him she lived a long life. Since you pictured him as an old man at the end of his reign, I figure it would be most appropriate to do her the same way, rather than as the young woman she was when Jaehaerys first ascended the Iron Throne. […] Tall and straight, unbowed by time, she had high cheekbones, clear blue eyes. Age left crow’s feet around her eyes and laugh lines about her mouth, but her face never lost its strength. […] In old age her hair turned white as snow.

As GRRM told Amok to set this depiction late in Jaehaerys’s reign, they would have been in their 60s at the time. (Alysanne died around age 64, Jaehaerys at 69.) They’re described as, and look like, regular 60-year-olds to me. (If not even older since life expectancy and makeup and plastic surgery has led us to expect that people don’t look old till their 70s.) They have wrinkles, their hair has turned white. Just like normal people.

Mind you, Jaehaerys and Alysanne are a bit of an exception since, well, most Targaryen kings (and others we know the lifespan of) haven’t lived nearly that long, through disease or chance or war or other events. (Aenys: 35, Maegor: 36, Viserys I: 52, Daemon: 49, Rhaenyra: 33, Aegon II: 24, Aegon III: 37, Daeron I: 18, Baelor: 27, Viserys II: 50, Aegon IV: 49, Daeron II: 56, Aerys I: mid-40s, Maekar: mid-50s; Aegon V: 59, Jaehaerys II: 37, Aerys II: 40. Note GRRM also says that Aerys II was prematurely aged due to stress, and looked far older than he actually was.) Aegon the Conqueror was 64 when he died (of a stroke), but we don’t have any pictures of him at that age – perhaps Fire and Blood will change that as it’s supposed to have many illustrations, maybe there will be a portrait of the matured and wrinkled Aegon with his sons and grandchildren.

As for male-pattern baldness, like I said, most male Targaryens don’t seem to live long enough for their hair to start receding or growing thin.(Though I’m surprised Daeron II was never mentioned to be balding, considering his general unassuming appearance compared to his half-brother Daemon Blackfyre.) If Aerys I or Maekar or Aegon V did, we’ll probably see them in the Dunk and Egg stories eventually. (Or other Targs of that era.)The ones we know of are just lucky, I guess. It’s that silver-gold hair of theirs, GRRM loves it too much to suggest they’d ever lose it. ;)  Although their hair does turn white, at least, if they do get old enough.

(edit: Gosh, I forgot about Maester Aemon somehow -- but he in particular was over 100 years old, bald, wrinkled, and blind; luckily granted long life, but aged normally.)

Really, nothing GRRM has ever said about most Targaryens suggests they age any differently than others. The fact that he specifically said that Elaena was “one of those women whose features improve with age, and men said she was more beautiful at seventy than she had been at seventeen” means that she is an exception, that most women, even Targaryen women, don’t age that way. (It’s also to differ her from her sisters, Rhaena who was “lovely” with “feminine beauty” at 14, and Daena who was also beautiful in her youth but probably died before age 30.) Furthermore, rumors that Shiera Seastar “bathes in blood to keep her beauty” started up when she was in her late 20s/early 30s… which means that nobody was expecting a half-Targaryen/half-Lyseni (Valyrian descent) to retain the beauty of her youth. Rhaenyra was also noted to have aged badly:

Childbirth exacted a toll on the princess; the weight that Rhaenyra gained during her pregnancies never entirely left her, and by the time the youngest boy was born, she had grown stout and thick of waist, the beauty of her girlhood a fading memory, though she was but twenty years of age. According to Mushroom, this only served to deepen her resentment of her stepmother, Queen Alicent [Hightower], who remained slender and graceful at almost twice her age. –The Rogue Prince

So… nope, I don’t think Valyrian genes are any different than regular people, when it comes to their aging at least. (Other things, however…) Hope that helps!

[alaynemoonstone-blog]

Fire and Blood - German Preview Translation Part 1.

Disclaimer: it's been a while since I studied German, there's bound to be a few mistakes, any corrections are appreciated.

The Maesters of the Citadel, who preserve the history of Westeros, have been using Aegon's conquest as the starting point of their era for three hundred years. Births, deaths, battles and other events are either dated before Aegon's Conquest or after Aegon's Conquest.

The true scholar knows how imprecise such information is. Aegon Targaryen's Conquest of the Seven Kingdoms did not take place in a single day. More than two years elapsed between Aegon's landing and his coronation in Oldtown... and even after that the conquest was not yet complete because Dorne was not yet subjected. Occasional attempts were repeated during King Aegon's reign, even during the reign of his sons. Therefore, it is impossible to give an exact date for the end of the Wars of Conquest.

Even the start date is based on an erroneous idea. It is often mistakenly assumed that the reign of King Aegon I Targaryen began the day he landed at the mouth of the Black Water, at the foot of the three hills around which the city of King’s Landing would later rise. That's not true! The day of Aegon's Landing was celebrated by the king and his descendants, but the conqueror himself actually counted the years of his reign after the day he was anointed and crowned king in the Starry Sept of Oldtown by the High Septon of Faith. This coronation took place two years after Aegon's Landing, some time after the Targaryens defeated and won the three major battles in the Wars of Conquest. As you can see, most of Aegon's actual conquest took place one to two years before Aegon's conquest.

The Targaryens came from the purest Valyrian blood and were dragonlords of an old sex(?). Twelve years before the Doom of Valyria, Aenar Targaryen sold his possessions in the Free Hold and in the Land of the Always Summer and moved with his consorts, his possessions, slaves, dragons, siblings, children and relatives to Dragonstone, a desolate island citadel under a smoking mountain in the Narrow Sea.

At its peak, Valyria was the largest city in the known world, the center of civilization. Behind its glittering walls, forty rival houses vied for power and glory in court and council, and rose and fell in the endless, volatile and often violent struggle for dominion. The Targaryens were by far not the most powerful of the Dragon Lords, and their rivals condemned their flight to Dragonstone as an act of capitulation and cowardice. But Lord Aenar's virgin daughter, Daenys, who forever made history as Daenys the Dreamer, had foreseen the Doom of Valyrias by fire. And when, twelve years later, the fatality came over Valyria, the Targaryens were the only dragon lords to survive.

Dragonstone had been the westernmost outpost of Valyrian power for two centuries. It’s position across the throat allowed it’s masters to strangle the Blackwater Bay, so both the Targaryen and their close allies, the Velaryons of Driftmark (a lower house of Valyrian origin), were able to enrich trade in the region. The Velaryon fleet, along with another Valyrian house, the Celtigars of Claw Island, controlled the middle area of ​​the Narrow Sea, while the Targaryen ruled the sky with their dragons.

Nevertheless, for most of the first hundred years after the Doom (which is aptly called the Century of the Blood), Targaryen's eyes turned eastward rather than westward, showing little interest in Westeros. Gaemon Targaryen, brother and consort of Daenys the Dreamer, followed Aenar the Exile as Lord of Dragonstone and became famous as Gaemon the Glorious. Gaemon's son Aegon and his daughter Elaena reigned together after his death. They were followed by their son Maegon, his brother Aerys and Aerys' sons Aelyx, Baelon and Daemion. The last of the three brothers was Daemion, whose son Aerion eventually became Lord of Dragonstone.

Then Aegon, known to history as Aegon the Conqueror and Aegon the Dragon, was born in 27 B.C. on Dragonstone. He was the only son and second child of Aerion, Lord of Dragonstone, and Lady Valaena of House Velaryon, who was half Targaryen through her mother. Aegon had two siblings, an older sister, Visenya, and a younger sister, Rhaenys. For a long time it had been the custom of the Valyrian Dragonlords to marry brother to sister to keep the blood pure, but Aegon took both sisters to wife. By tradition, he would only have had to marry his older sister Visenya; Taking Rhaenys as a second wife was unusual, if not without historical precedent. Some said Aegon married Visenya out of duty, but Rhaenys because he desired her.

All three siblings had already proved themselves as Dragonlords before their wedding. Of the five dragons that had flown with Aenar the Exile to Dragonstone,only one lived in Aegon's days: the great beast Balerion the Black Dread. The other two, Vhagar and Meraxes, were younger and first hatched on Dragonstone.

Among the ignorant, is the myth that Aegon Targaryen never set foot on the continent's soil before the day he set sail to conquer Westeros, but this cannot be true. Years before this voyage, at Lord Aegon's behest, the painted panel had been carved and decorated: a huge wooden panel, about fifty feet long, in the shape of the landmass of Westeros, painted with all the forests and rivers and cities and castles of the Seven Kingdoms. Apparently, Aegon had long been interested in Westeros long before the events that drove him to war. There are also reliable accounts of a young Aegon and his sister Visenya's stay in the Citadel of Oldtown, as well as a visit to hawk on the Arbor as guests of Lord Rothweyn. He could have also visited Lannisport. Here contradict the sources.

In Aegon's youth, Westeros was divided into seven contentious kingdoms, and there were hardly times when two or three of these kingdoms did not wage war against each other. The wide, cold and stony north was ruled by the Starks of Winterfell. In the deserts of Dorne, the word of the princes of the House Martell was law. The gold-rich Westerlands dominated by the Lannisters of Casterly Rock, the fertile expanse the Gardener of Highgarden. The Vale, the Fingers and the Mountains of the Moon belonged to House Arryn. But the most wary kings of Aegon's times ruled the two kingdoms closest to Dragonstone - Harren the Black and Argilac the Arrogant.

From Storm’s End, the Storm Kings of House Durrandon once ruled the eastern half of Westeros from Eagle Cape to Crab Bay, but their power had been dwindling for centuries. The Kings of Reach had taken over areas in the west, the Dornish pressed them to the south, and Harren the Black and his Ironborn drove them away from the Trident and from the lands north of the Blackwater. King Argilac, the last Durrandon, was able to stop this decline for some time as a boy when turning back a Dornish invasion. Then he crossed the Narrow Sea, where he joined the great alliance against the "Tigers" of Volantis; Twenty years later he killed Garse VII, the King of the Reach, in the battle of Summerfield. But then age had caught up with Argilac: his famous black mane had turned gray and his strength in the fight had diminished.

North of the Blackwater, Harren the Back from House Hoare, the king of the Iron Islands and the Rivers, dominated the Riverlands with a bloody hand. Harren's grandfather Harwyn Hoare, an Ironborn, had taken over Trident from Argilac's grandfather Arrec, whose ancestors had cast down the last River King centuries before. Harren's father had extended his rule east to Duskendale and Rosby. Harren himself dedicated nearly forty years of his rule to building a huge castle on the God’s Eye, but as Harrenhal neared completion, the Ironborn were ready for new conquests.

No king in Westeros was more feared than Harren the Black, who was known in all Seven Kingdoms for his legendary cruelty. And no king in Westeros felt more threatened than Argilac the Storm King, the last Durrandon - an aging warrior whose sole heir was his virgin daughter. And so it came about that Argilac turned to the Targaryens on Dragonstone and offered Lord Aegon the hand of his daughter, with a dowry of all land east of the God's Eye from the Trident to the Blackwater.

Aegon Targaryen rejected the offer of the Storm King. He already has two wives, he explained, and do not need a third. In addition, the offered dowry of the lands had already been part of Harrenhal for over a generation, so Argilac could not give it away. Obviously, the aging Storm King wanted the Targaryens on the Blackwater to be a buffer between his own lands and those of Harrens the Black.

But the Lord of Dragonstone made him a counter offer. He would take the lands offered to him if Argilac additionally left him Massey's hook and the forests and plains south of the Blackwater to the Wendwater and the Manders. The pact was to be sealed by the marriage of Argilac's daughter to Orys Baratheon, Lord Aegon's knight and childhood friend.

Argilac angrily rejected this proposal. It was rumored that Orys Baratheon was an illegitimate half-brother of Lord Aegon of low birth. The Storm King did not want to dishonor his daughter by giving her hand to a bastard. But the suggestion angered him beyond measure. Argilac cut off the hands of Aegon’s messenger and sent them back to him in a box. "These are the only hands your bastard will get from me," he wrote.

Aegon did not answer. Instead, he called his friends, vassals, and allies to Dragonstone. Their numbers was small. The Velaryons of Driftmark were bound by oath to House Targaryen, as well as the Celtigars of Claw Isle. From Massey's Hook came Lord Bar Emmon of Sharp Point and Lord Massey of Stonedance, both of whom were bound to Storm’s End by oath, but had closer ties to Dragonstone. Lord Aegon and his sisters conferred with them and even visited the castle sept together to pray to the Faith of the Seven, though Aegon had not been known for his piety until then.

On the seventh day, a flock of ravens flew from Dragonstone's towers, carrying Lord Aegon's word into the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. The birds flew to the Seven Kings, to the Citadel of Oldtown, to lords large and small. All of them carried the same message: From that day on, there would only be one king in Westeros. Anyone who would bend the knee to Aegon Targaryen will keep his lands and titles. Those who raise arms against him will be cast down, humiliated and destroyed.

The reports of the number of men that started with Aegon and his sisters on Dragonstone are contradictory. Some call three thousand, others count only hundreds. This modest Targaryen army landed at the mouth of the Black Water, on the north shore, where three wooded hills rose above a small fishing village.

In the days of the One Hundred Kingdoms, many petty kings had claimed control of the estuary, including the Darklyns of Duskendale, the Masseys of Stonedance and the Ancient River Kings, whether Mud, Fisher, Bracken, Blackwood or Hook. Time and again, towers and festivals crowned the three hills, only to be destroyed in this or that war afterwards. Now only broken stones and overgrown ruins welcomed the Targaryens. Although both Storm’s End and Harrenhal claimed the estuary, it was not defended, and the next castles were held by lesser lords without great power or military strength, and Lords, who had little reason to love their lord, Harren the Black.

Aegon Targaryen fortified the highest hill with a wood and earth palisade and sent his sisters to subjugate the neighboring castles. Rosby surrendered to Rhaenys and her gold eyed Meraxes without a fight. At Stokeworth, some crossbowmen shot bolts at Visenya until Vhagar's flames set fire to the roofs of the castle. After that, they also surrendered.

The first real challenge for the Conqueror was represented by Lord Darklyn of Duskendale and Lord Muton of Maidenpool, who banded together and marched southward with three thousand men to throw the invaders back into the sea. Aegon dispatched Orys Baratheon, who was supposed to ambush her while he was on the move, while he himself plunged from the air with the Black Dread. Both Lords fell in unequal battle. Then Lord Darklyn’s son and Muton's brother handed over their castles and swore their swords House Targaryen. At that time, Duskendale was the most important port of Westeros on the Narrow Sea and rich in trade. Visenya Targaryen forbade the plunder of the city, but did not hesitate to claim its riches, which filled the conquerors' chests.

This passage might be worth a few words about the different characters of Aegon Targaryen’s his sister-wives and queens.

Visenya, the eldest of the three, was as ferocious a warrior as Aegon himself, and felt as much at home in a chain mail as in silk. She wore a Valyrian steel longsword, Dark Sister, whom she could handle with great expertise because she had been practicing weapons with her brother since early childhood. Although she was blessed with the silver-gold hair and violet eyes of Valyria, her beauty was rather harsh. Even those who loved her described Visenya as stern, serious and vindictive. Some even said that she played around with poisons and was involved with dark magic.

Rhaenys, the youngest of the three, embodied the exact opposite of her sister. She was playful, curious, impulsive, and was fond of reverie. Rhaenys was not a true warrior, but she loved music, dance and poetry and supported singers, mimes and puppeteers. Still, it is said that Rhaenys spent more time on the back of her dragon than her brother and sister together, because she loved flying over everything. Once she is said to have said that before she died, she wanted to fly to Meraxes over the Sunset Sea to see what lay on its west coast. While no one ever questioned Visenya's loyalty to her brother's consort, Rhaenys surrounded himself with handsome young men and, it was whispered, had fun in bed with some of them when Aegon spent the night with her older sister. Despite these rumors, observers at court did not fail to notice that for every night Aegon spent with Visenya, he spent ten with Rhaenys.

Strangely enough, Aegon Targaryen himself was just as much a mystery to his contemporaries as he is to us. He was one of the greatest warriors of his time and wielded Blackfyre, a blade of Valyrian steel. Nevertheless, he had not much love for weapon acts and rode neither in the tournament, nor he fought in buhurt. His dragon was Balerion the Black Dread, but he only rode it for battle or to travel over land and sea. Thanks to his commanding manner, he found it easy to gather men to his banners, but apart from Orys Baratheon, the companion of his youth, he had no close friends. Women were attracted to him, but Aegon remained faithful to his sister-wives. As a king, he entrusted many tasks to his Small Council and his sisters, leaving them with much of the day-to-day affairs of government, but he did not hesitate to take matters into his own hands whenever he thought necessary. He went to court with rebels and traitors, but he was always generous to former enemies who bent the knee.

He proved this for the first time in the Aegonfort, the simple wooden and earth ramp he had erected on the mountain, which was now to be called Aegon's High Hill. After taking a dozen castles and securing the mouth of the Blackwater on both shores, he commanded the defeated lords to his side. They laid their swords at his feet, but Aegon helped them up and confirmed them in their lands and titles. He gave his oldest followers new honors. Daemon Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, called him Master of the Ships and gave him command of the Royal Fleet. Triston Massey, Lord of Stonedance, was appointed Master of Laws, Crispian Celtigar the Master of Coin. And he called Orys Baratheon "my faithful shield and retainer, my strong, right-hand man." Therefore, Orys Baratheon is considered the first Hand of the King.

Coat of arms had long been a tradition among the Lords of Westeros, but the Ancient Lords of Valyria had never used such a thing. When Aegon's knights unrolled his great battle standard of silk, showing a red, fire-breathing dragon with three heads on a black background, the lords took this as a sign that he had truly become one of their own, a worthy High King of Westeros. When Queen Visenya set her brother a ruby-studded Valyrian steel hoop on his head and Queen Rhaenys proclaimed him as "Aegon, the first of His name, King of all Westeros and Shield of His people," the dragons roared, and the lords and knights cheered ... but the loudest among them were the fishermen and field workers and women.

Only the seven kings Aegon intended to dethrone the dragon did not rejoice. In Harrenhal and Storm’s End, Harren the Black and Argilac, who had already called the arrogant, called the banners. In the west, King Mern rode from the Reach up the Ocean Road northward to Casterly Rock, to meet King Loren of House Lannister. The Princess of Dorne sent a raven to Dragonstone and offered support to Aegon in the fight against Argilac the Storm King ... but as an equal ally, not a subject. Another alliance offer came from the child king of the Vale, Ronnel Arryn, whose mother offered to support Aegon against Harren the Black, and in return demanded all lands east of the Green Fork of the Trident. Even in the north, King Torrhen Stark of Winterfell sat with his lords and advisors late into the night and discussed how to deal with this would-be conqueror. The whole kingdom was anxiously awaited Aegon's next move.

[ao3feed-gendrya]

A Home Is Made Of Hopes And Dreams

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2HTcAv2

by allegre

Sequel to Love Comes From The Heart.

Drogo died, but Rhaego lived. In Part I, Rhaego tells us his version of the events of Season 7 and 8 (?), Dany & Jon's first encounter, their journey north, the Battle for the Dawn, a Jonerys wedding and the arrival of Jonerys baby, Rhaego's little sister Elaena, before the Targs finally leave Winterfell to take the capital. In this sequel, Rhaego takes us with him as he adjusts to life in King's Landing, makes new friends, travels the Seven Kingdoms and finally returns to Winterfell for a very special occasion.

Words: 19955, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Game of Thrones (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Rhaego (ASoIaF), Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow, Missandei (ASoIaF), Grey Worm, Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Gendry Waters, Tyrion Lannister, Davos Seaworth, Jorah Mormont, Ghost (ASoIaF), Drogon (ASoIaF), Rhaegal (ASoIaF)

Relationships: Jon Snow & Daenerys Targaryen, Jon Snow/Daenerys Targaryen, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Arya Stark & Gendry Waters

read it on the AO3 at http://bit.ly/2HTcAv2

[evelzzzk]

Dragons eat Seahorses series: Our fire binds us - Female OC Velaryon Reader x Aemond Targaryen (Chapter 5)

Chapters Masterlist

Okay, this is another lengthy one BUT... it's filthy, kinky and dirty, it really is. And I guess this is what you need, my dirty little potatoes. I'm just a humble servant, fulfilling your deepest and dirtiest desires :> Enjoy!

WARNINGS(!): Smut, 18+ NSFW, heavy paraphilia (blood fetish), fire kink, oral sex (both m! and f! receiving), slightly sub! Aemond - he's a bit tender here but kinky as hell, masturbating, changing of dominance dynamic

ENGLISH IS MY 2ND LANGUAGE.

Word count: approx 11k

SUMMARY: After an eventful feast, the day of your wedding with Aemond has finally came. Surrounded by a rather humble gathering as for royal conditions, you swore each other love for eternity, sealing your bond with the blood of your own dragons. That blood oath will prove to be seminal as you both gained the upper hand against each other, possessing the power of one another’s most deadly beasts in this realm. During the wedding night, the two of you as newlyweds decided to bring to life Targaryen House words: Fire and Blood, turning your bedroom into an experimental field for your deepest, most perversive desires.

Playlist: Track 1, track 2, track 3, track 4, track 5, track 6, track 7

Cool breeze of Blackwater surge chafed your cheeks, reddening them, your plump lips became bright pink, cyanosed almost. Cold tide brushed your feet covered in fine leather slippers, making you shiver and you clung even tighter to firm arm of your father who led you to the field altar. The nuptial took place at the beach upon The Red Keep as it was more proper than The Sępt; The Faith of The Seven didn’t quite accept an Old Valyrian ordinance, but it was an ancient Targaryen custom nonetheless. The ceremony was remarkably modest by royal standards, even in Westeros, but you knew perfectly why. Westerosi weddings never ended well in any way, there was always had to be some kind of discord to put it mildly, but most often the celebration was sealed with death or couple of deaths, generally guests were the victims. Moreover, the bedding – the most repulsive ritual you could imagine, it made your head spin at the very thought, luckily, you weren’t the one to have same feelings about it. Aemond has strictly forbidden this wicked tradition to be performed, he wouldn’t stand taking you in public, in front of thousands of onlookers and most importantly, to the delight of his unappeased brother. Aegon was obviously the most zealous one who insisted on carry on with the ceremonial in spite of all.

 

- Really, brother...? You can't just violate an age-old tradition – Aegon grumbled over Aemond’s head, tantalizing him.

- I can and I will – younger Prince ignored older sibling's whining, studying some illustrations persistently.

- I am your King, I can force you to fuck her in front of everyone. Or I will do it, properly – Aegon smirked insolently, knowing full well what kind of reaction he will get.

Aemond smashed his head upon the table, holding it robustly, a slight sound of gritting teeth and cracking neck was audible.

- If you touch her, I’ll spike your miserable head on one of Iron Throne swords. And I will gladly sit on it afterwards – One-Eye hissed menacingly, loosening his grip and letting go his brother. An impudent grin never left Aegon’s face.

- You’re such a bore. Why can’t you have a fun for once in your life? It’s your wedding after all. Me and Helaena enjoyed ourselves during the bedding – young King brushed himself off and reached for jug of wine, his constant companion.

- You enjoyed it so much that you had to work yourself off with some whore after and you left Helaena crying alone - Aemond felt visibly disgusted at the memory of that fateful night. He had to endure his sister’s distress, consoling her and suppress his anger towards older brother.

- My, Elaena’s cunt must be really divine if you’re defending her so much – Aegon chuckled lightly, taking a large sip of alcohol. Younger man didn’t respond as he walked away, heavy clank of his boots filled the space.

- I will take her, one way or another! And she will beg for my cock to fill her! – Aegon’s sonorous yell caught up his brother’s back and hitched to it like a bat, sucking out his patience.

Your heart thumped like a little humming-bird’s wings as you approached quite small assembly. The ceremonial was rather cameral, the only witnesses of your nuptials were your parents, Rhaenyra and Daemon along with Jace, Baela and Rhaena. Of course, Alicent couldn’t be missing as well as Aegon and Helaena, even their twins, Prince Jahaerys and Princess Jahaera, though you were sure they would have preferred to play in the gardens right now, as children do.

Skirts of your gown fluttered in the sea gale, a silver mist of richly ornate in lustrous emblems of little seahorses and dragons. A smooth facture of material hugged your figure nicely, straight boat neck exposed your shapely shoulders and collarbones, long sleeves fell in cascades down your arms. Thick, teal-blue cloak protected you from morning coolness, whereas the color represented your Velaryon roots. Your dark hair were neatly combed in a sophisticated updo, your mother, Rhaenys, when she was braiding your strands, claimed that she had very same one when she married your Lord Father.

Speaking of whom, Corlys passed your hand to your about to be husband, Aemond warm palm heated your own cold one, reviving your pulse, a blood rush flushed your pale skin. He looked like the happiest man in the entire realm, his only eye shined like a lone star in cold night sky, it could enlighten a whole town. His lips curved in a glimmering smile when he kissed the back of your hand piously, like it was some kind of relic. He wore a silver refined doublet, matching to your dress and a crimson-red cape, same one he had at feast the night before. Brightness of the material underlined his creamy complexion and elicited the luster of his cool blonde hair even more. His hair, his damn long, silky hair, tied up in low, loose ponytail, which only sharpened his already rough jawbone. You had to fight the urge to lick his jaw all along, it was so tempting.

The Grand Maester disrupted your fantasies when he began his speech in High Valyrian. The words slipped away from your ears, soon learnt, soon forgotten, although you knew their meaning perfectly, it was your mother language after all, as it was for the others. Well, not for everyone to be precise. You watched Alicent’s confused expression as she tried to understand the context of sentences and you were amused when she frowned but her lips remained curved in a courteous smile, as if she put on a brave face. You knew The Queen Dowager earnestly tried to learn High Valyrian to honor her husband’s custom, but at the same time she always defined it as ‘ancient’ and ‘not very practical’ and after some time she quit learning, claiming that she never had enough patience for foreign languages. Your mother, on the other hand, seemed to be deeply moved, tears were streaming down her cheeks and she wiped them off with tissue every single moment. Deep down inside she was truly happy for you, even though she would preferred you to marry someone more worthy and with a better reputation than that of being a Kinslayer. However, you were apple of her eye, only daughter she had left, the only child alive. She treasured you more than anything, more than her dignity or status, more than her Red Queen, even if it seemed that you were daddy’s little girl. The Seasnake, on the other hand, was dead serious, but his eyes betrayed his pride – he managed to live to see the marriage of his youngest child. Altough he also wished his future son-in-law haven’t killed his beloved grandson, the heir to Driftmark. But Corlys had to suck it up, because he was the main proponent of your engagement with Aemond when you both were much younger.

You deeply regretted that your sister, Laena, couldn’t see you all dressed up in your bridal apparel as she always laughed at you, that she never couldn’t imagine you as a lady-wife. She would understand you tough, you both had a peculiar familial tendency to marry riotous Targaryen Princes that could either worship you like an old goddesses or destroy you like The Doom wrecked Valyria. Speaking of the devil, Daemon looked at you with grudge, he still obviously couldn’t get over your decision, his rancor was consuming him. His fists were clasped, veins popped on his wrists and forearms, shoulders were tense and his chest rose up with heavy, rapid breathing. Rhaenyra saw her husband’s commotion and she grabbed his arm, squeezing it gently, giving him a meaningful look. The Black Queen knew your demeanor and she trusted your common sense, respecting your choice, although she didn’t agree with it. But she was well aware that she had no right to tell you who you could love nor who you could claim. Though out of two evils she probably would prefer you to become a Daemon’s paramour, even presented to the court than to marry her son’s murderer. She gave you a cordial, slightly nod and you bowed lightly in response. Rhaenyra was invariably your Queen, she didn’t had to worry about your allegiance, no matter who was your bed companion.

Daemon sighed with resignation in response to his wife soothing, his eyes were filled with sadness and remorse. Despite this, there was still tension in the air. You knew that Laenor, your older brother, would defuse the situation perfectly. And yes, you knew well he was still alive, but Rhaenyra has forbidden you to reveal this secret to your parents, even if it meant alleviating their suffering. But something told you that Rhaenys knew, she took up the cudgels for her daughter in law, when your father accused her of purposely murdering Laenor so she could marry The Rogue Prince and that was somehow...strange. Perhaps your mother preferred to last in false unconsciousness, calming her conscience. You envied your brother, he got a chance to start fresh, even being married and cuckolded, he got to live a new life, being happy with ser Qarl, enjoying himself in Essosi lands. This was something you could never afford but you were happy for him nonetheless, he could finally taste the freedom of being his true embodiment, he was free to love another man without any prejudices. He was always a good brother, a shield you could lean on, he defended you from every harsh look or rebuke given by your parents. You missed him deeply and you detrained your longing partially by exchanging letters with him, he wrote under fake nickname, pretending to be your secret admirer you met during Stepstones battle. It made you giggle like a little callow girl, when you saw your mother indignation and father’s curiosity when they happened to receive your correspondence – The Seasnake even quipped that he will have to break off your engagement with Aemond if your mysterious lover continue to pick you up in such way. Laenor really got into his character when he was describing his adventures or ‘how much he longes to see you swing that sharp sword of yours again’. He regretted greatly that he couldn’t show up at your wedding but you promised him that one day you’re going to visit him and together you will fly over the eastern skies on your dragons back. And yes, Seasmoke resided on Driftmark after Laenor’s getaway, but that beast was no fool – he wouldn’t allow anyone to claim him as he still sensed his only Master was alive, at least that was what you thought. You vowed that you will bring Seasmoke together with you, you were heartbroken seeing his despair over the absence of his master.

An emphatic grunt of Maester snapped you out of your meditation, drawing your attention back to your soon-to-be husband. Evidently the real part of ceremony has begun, now was the time for you both to take an oath – luckily you gave up cutting your hands and painting your faces with bloods like some cavemen. Instead, you proposed you will drink your dragons blood – you would taste Vhagar’s and Aemond Carantes. And this was not without reason – your mother told you stories and some theories about blood magic when you were a child and it always fascinated you. Your ancestors claimed that, for example, you could gain a bigger control over your dragon after drinking his blood and experience almost a complete unity with it as this ritual involved the dragon becoming an extension of its rider's body, obeying every command, every impulse it received. A total control, impossible to achieve in any other way. That way you risked Aemond gaining power over your own mount, but you had to take every possible chance to subdue Vhagar, because this might save your life one day and let you be on the front foot. Of course you haven’t mentioned any of that to your Prince and he just thought that you’re very into valryian customs and you wanted to make your wedding more unique.

Aemond looked into your eyes intensively as you took a sip from your goblet, a scarlet liquid hit your palate – you didn’t have the foggiest idea what dragon blood might taste like and it surprised you positively. You expected something raw, nasty, rotten even. But it was... sweet, a bit bitter at the finish with metallic aftertaste. You gulped more greedily, but you almost threw the goblet as the liquid hit your neurons; a lancinating pain tore your muscles, your head was spinning chaotically, you thought you were going to pass out in a moment, feeling your legs drowning in sand. And then you saw it. Fire, a streamer of fire, coming out of your...jaws? You looked down. You were burning down an entire army, stench of burned skin and armor hit your nostrils, shrill screams of soldiers buzzed in your head. Then your gaze landed on the stronghold before you and it looked strangely familiar. Soaring towers and bridges, distinctive arches... Sunspear. You were in Dorne. A female voice coming from your back ordered you in High Valyrian to stay away from the castle. Visenya’s voice. Vhagar’s first rider. But then the vision cracked like a shattered mirror, revealing dark cliffs and a narrow isthmus, overwhelmed by a raving storm, dark surroundings enlightened only by thunders striking from above. Storm’s End. You were chasing someone, thick cloud of fog covered winged shape, much smaller than yourself, a baby dragon. And out of nowhere, when you lost a sight of it, a little fire streak flushed your head. It was Arrax. He fled once again, disappearing high above, getting out of the storm. You were enraged, you craved nothing more than to crush his small body between your massive teeth.

- No, serve me Vhagar! Dohareas, Vhagar! – you heard your Master’s pleading yell, Aemond tried to halt you by pulling reins sharply, but it was too late. You emerged from behind the clouds, your jaws were wide open. You had this little lizard in the crosshairs. One swift move and...

- NOOOO...! – you screamed stridently, not realizing that the sound actually came out of your mouth, now everyone was staring at you being aghast by your sudden outburst. You moved your numb hands weakly, feeling loose facture of sand, slipping between your fingers. You were kneeling, shivers ran through your whole body, tears dripped down your cheeks unconsciously. Your goblet laid on the ground, leftovers of Vhagar’s blood stained the sand.

- My love, what happened? Are you alright? – Aemond grabbed your arms, lifting you up slowly, there was serious concern on his face, his intent eyes searching for any sign of injury on your body.

You peeked at his cup and froze – half of its content was gone; you glanced at his lips – burgundy redness covered their fragile scarfskin. You couldn't resist running your finger over them, he took your hand gently in his and kissed it, still looking at you worryingly.

- You drank it. You drank her blood – you whispered as if you still weren't aware of it.

- Yes, my love. As you ordered before, remember? – he smiled so charmingly that within the blink of an eye you forgot he has just gained the power over Carantes. And he could use it to harm you. Or even to kill you. You wondered only whether he had visions concerning you and your dragoness. What did he see? Was it something intimate or embarrassing? You tried to guess by reading his face, but you couldn’t tell as his expression remained without a single flaw.

You gazed at Maester, he stood beside you both dumbstruck, his mouth agape. He knew what just happened and what it meant. But before he could express his apprehension in any way, you deterred him, not wanting him to betray your true intentions.

- Please, Maester. Continue – you urged him and he smiled faintly, proceeding further ceremony as if nothing happened. Rest of guests was still a bit confused but no one dared to question anything and resumed their wistfulness.

Maester carried on delivering his speech, entwining your and Aemond’s hand. Then it was time to finally take the oath as sublime High Valyrian words coated your ears. From now on you were one – one body, one soul, one blood and you will stand together as husband and wife until death tear you apart. You passed the point of no return as you realized what it meant. An eternity with a man who could become either your shield or a mortal enemy.

You sealed your union with a kiss, a passionate one and you could still sense dragon’s blood on his lips as your tongues danced fiercely. Sound of loud applause interrupted your tenderness and you giggled when you broke off your lips from his at last. Your mother approached you, bathed in tears and hugged you tightly, her warmth deluged you like a flood.

- My youngest daughter, my only child left, finally became a lady wife – she sobbed, when she let you go reluctantly.

- Mom, please stop. See? Now I’m crying too – you both laughed through your tears.

The idyll was interrupted by Aemond’s grunt as he took your arm and slung it over his neck, lifting you up. You gasped slightly at the strength of his grip.

- It’s time for you to be with your husband, in private – he announced, smiling mischievously. You blushed, you knew deep down inside what privacy he meant and craved.

You left the assembly, carried by your newlywed husband, caged in his strong embrace. You glanced back for the last time. Rhaenys nodded at you reassuringly as your father held her firmly, rubbing her arm as if he wanted to comfort her. A moment later everyone started to walk away, towards The Red Keep, following you in a distance. You were informed that after the wedding negotiations will take place, in The Small Councill room. Of course, you and Aemond as newlyweds weren’t allowed to attend them and you were left alone to celebrate the evening and your wedding night in peace. Young Prince was lucky enough to be the groom on that day, because Rhaenyra would surely send him to the final judgement before The Seven themselves.

You were quite impressed with Aemond’s strength and perseverance as he carried you persistently all the way to The Keep without a single sign of tiredness or exasperation on his statuesque face. Years of training his swordsmanship skills were certainly not in vain. Ultimately you both reached the castle and he took you to his quarters which were basically now yours, not letting you out of his squeeze for a second. Being a second son surely had its drawbacks, but that rascal had literally an entire floor for himself, including a large dining room, not a smaller bathroom and of course an enormous bedroom with a huge fireplace where he loved to sit by on the cozy armchair, reading his favorite philosophy books. There were even hanging gardens in the form of a terrace in the middle of what looked like a courtyard and the cherry on top – a broad balcony overlooking the Blackwater Bay, where he liked to relax himself after a whole day of intensive sword training. He had his own little paradise inside these stone walls, a shelter where he could escape from the world and no one or nothing would bother him. His chambers were located in the left wing of The Keep while negotiations were carried out in the Hand’s Tower on the opposite side of the building, so you were sure that no one will disturb you and on the other hand none of the gathering would hear your… obscenities. Though you were sure Aemond would do his best and make you scream so loud that everyone in the capital would hear you.

When you crossed the threshold of the dressing room, a retinue of servants was waiting for you, ready for your orders. The Prince let you go at last and placed you gently on the ground, smiling at you heavenly. May the Gods curse his charm, damn him.

- Get my wife ready for the supper. I want her to look absolutely perfect – he commanded the maids before he took your hand and placed a chaste kiss upon it and winked at you afterwards rakishly. He walked out of room, leaving you bewitched by his spell. Damn him.

As instructed, the servants began to prepare you for the evening, taking off your previous gown and bathing you in ridiculously expensive oils, scrubbing your body thoroughly, even though you had already taken a bath this morning. When you've been drained of the wetness, they began to dress you up and yes, you wore Daemon’s gift - revealing more than concealing black, lacy dress made of half-transparent trailing material, with a provocative V-shaped neckline and deep cuts at each of your sides. Your long, shapely legs were exposed by high hem slits, reaching up to the upper part of your thighs. To maintain a semblance of decency, your ‘dress’ was covered with black, silk coat, or rather some kind of a robe, tied up in your waist. If you hadn't worn it, there’d be quite a chance that Aemond would lose his appetite for food and start to eat you on that goddamn table instead.

When you were ready, you were taken to the dining room, your long, dark hair fluttered in the wind, encircling your bare collarbones and cleavage, dress skirts brushed the floor. Servant opened the door and he stood there, at the head of the table, waiting for you so he could pull up a chair for you. At first glance you thought he was wearing his usual black leather attire, but no, it wasn’t certainly usual. The different stitching added a touch of sophistication, and you had the impression that the fabric clung even more to his slender yet muscular frame, emphasizing his broad shoulders and arms, and the belt accentuated his narrow waist. His hair was still tied in a loose ponytail, exposing his sharp as broken glass jawbone and lips now curved in an enticing smile. Damn him for the second time.

He gestured you to take a seat and when he helped you take your place, he brushed lightly your neck with his fingertips and walked away smirking as he saw your eyes closed at the sensation. Apparently he was going to take up the baton that night and be the seducer. How tables have quickly turned, you thought.

As he took a seat on the opposite side of the table, he snapped his fingers and servants began to serve foods and drinks, all of your favorites as you have noticed. Venison (roe) roast in honey-mustard sauce, delicate chicken broth with peas, eggplant and zucchini mousse with croutons, caramel pudding with white chocolate and even your beloved lemon cakes. You stared at all those dishes in horror - did he intend to get you into food pregnancy? And what was he thinking, how are you going to do anything in bed after that if all you might want to do after eating all this is to take a nap?

Maid poured a wine into your goblet – a sweet red from Dorne. Bastard remembered everything.

- My favorite wine, it's nice you remembered – you remarked bitingly as you took a sip, looking at him piercingly.

- You’re my wife now, I have to spoil you as much as I can – he smirked also drinking the liquor. His gaze never left your cleavage, exploring your boldly exposed skin between breasts, now covered in goosebumps. You felt your face got reddened as a fresh beet as his eyesight did not budge, you grunted trying to regain your balance back and nervously fixed your hair. Prince only smiled slyly seeing your visible confusion.

At last you got to eat a portion of venison roast, enjoying its exquisite taste as little pieces of meat literally melted in your mouth and you sighed with contentment at the sensation. Aemond seemed to be pleased as well as he observed your reaction, he loved to give you pleasure in any possible way, even if it meant coddling your taste buds.

- My love, I'd like to announce something to you. My Queen Mother decided to give you the title of a Princess as you are married to a Prince now. She wanted to celebrate your entry into our family and Aegon approved it. The edict will be issued today – he broke the silence as you finished your meal. You snorted with contempt, sipping your wine obdurately – What is it, Elaena? I thought you’ll be happy, it’s a great honor…

- Maybe it is for you, but I didn’t earn it by birthright, even though my Mother is a Princess – you interrupted him in a halfway, you felt irritation was growing in you – I am a Lady of House Velaryon who just happened to be drawn into Targaryen family by a fractious Prince – you said the last words winking at him knowingly.

- Ah yes, Lady Elaena Velaryon, proud and self-confident as always. Careful, don’t choke on that pride – he added with a slight mockery in his voice – You don’t have to use that title officially… if you don’t want to. But accept it, it would be a great pleasure for me, having a chance to addressing my wife with such dignity.

- Aemond, I don’ need…

- Enough! If my beloved step-sister, Rhaenyra, was able to pass the title on to her bastards and make those unworthy brats Princes, then you deserve it all the more. End of discussion – he banged his fist on the table, pursed his lips and casted you that specific look. You knew that gaze too much, first time he looked at you like that was on that eventful night, when his Father was still alive.

 

- How many times do I have to say sorry, woman? You know well that little punk was asking for it, he was provoking me and he got what he deserved – Aemond was pacing around your chamber with anger, sipping from his goblet in one hand and the other one was clenched into a fist – I shouldn’t apologize at all, everyone knows the truth but my Father prefers to last in a lie, because Rhaenyra is his favorite, she always was. He’s been always treating us like useless puppets, me and Aegon - there was obvious pain in his voice, pain and regret and you couldn’t disagree with him on this subject. Viserys wasn’t really a good father, not to say feckless, he always favored his firstborn, forgetting about his sons and put little effort into their upbringing. On the other hand Aemond was always an apple in the Alicent’s eye, he was her beloved boy and she was the one and only to stand for him. The feeling was mutual, as he always respected his mother greatly, never letting himself to disappoint her or offend her by any kind of disrespect.

- And maybe you shouldn’t give him more reasons to treat you like you’re invisible by insulting your own nephews and his grandchildren? – you snapped back, not caring about his excuses or resentments. You knew that Luke’s provocation wasn’t a sufficient pretext for such behavior – I’m not the one you should apologize.

- I don’t care. I don’t seek for appreciation. I am the one who spent years on studying philosophy and history, who trained hard enough with blade to become one of the best swordsmen. It is I who rides the largest dragon in the world, who holds an affection of the most beautiful woman whoever could imagine. It is I who should be the King… And I am ready to do everything to make that woman my Queen, who will stand beside me, but apparently she doesn’t even care – he turned around to face you, a reproach was written on his face and his only eye was breathing with fire.

- I know that being a second son is a heavy burden but you’re getting above yourself – you scolded him, snatching a goblet from him and you drank the rest of wine to the lees. He looked at you offended.

- You are my burden, the biggest of them all – he hissed and crushed his lips against yours before you could say or do anything.

The kiss was fiery, scalding almost. His tongue broke in by force into your mouth, dominating you, not letting you win by any chance. When he broke the kiss at last, to take a breath, his lips landed on your neck, leaving wet, sloppy pecks, nibbling delicate skin with his teeth. You moaned silently at the sensation, feeling light pressure between your thighs. He knew exactly where to strike to placate you. Goddamn wretch.

- Aemond, stop… I… uh… Gods…! – you screamed when all of sudden one of his fingers brushed your folds, still covered in undergarments, pressing them lightly.

- Shh. Be quiet woman, I’ve heard enough of this – he silenced you with another kiss, this time more it was more evanescent and he lifted you, squeezing your ass deliciously as you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He placed you on the verge of bed, pulling your bottom closer to the edge and kneeled between your legs. He wrapped the skirt of your dress up to your hips as if you were some kind of a present he couldn’t wait to unwrap. His hot breath stroked your inner thighs and axils as you were getting already drenched and the only thing you dreamed of at the moment was him to lick all of your juices until you would be dry as a fallen leaf and sated. He must had seen you through because a moment later he tasted your folds with a long, slick lick of his tongue as if you were an appetizer. You moaned protractedly, grabbing his hair and pulling his head closer to your core.

- My, my… you are already so wet for me… - he kissed your clit and licked it teasingly. Another thirsty moan left your mouth – I’m glad that I skipped the dessert at this damn dinner. I have something far more better right here – he purred and returned to licking you, kissing and devouring you like a starved man, your juices were glistening on his chin and he greedily drank them up, coaxing more and more of your delightful moans.

And he was looking at you exactly like that, like a starved man who finally got to eat something after weeks of starvation, while gobbling you between your legs.

- What did you see? When you drank Vhagar’s blood? – he snapped you out of your otherwise pleasant thoughts. You grunted as you felt your throat completely ran dry. He must had spotted that because he smirked suspiciously seeing your abashment. Did he know about what you were thinking just a second before?

- Uhm… I saw… I saw everything from her perspective… When she was burning down surroundings of the Sunspear in Dorne with Visenya on her back… She turned the whole army to ashes… And then… I saw you, how you tried to stop her from… from… Oh Gods, don’t force me to say this. That’s why I burst out all of sudden… - you sighed heavily and you took one of lemon cakes to sweeten those bitter memories. He hummed pensively, obviously the memory of Lucerys was still haunting him like a shadow.

- And what did you see? – you asked timidly, afraid of what secrets he managed to obtain from your own dragon.

- Hmm… Mostly moments from your battles in Stepstones. You were so brave, Nēdenka-prūmia (Braveheart), so fearless. But I saw also other things, much more pleasant to watch…

- What thing…? – you inquired him, afraid that you know what he meant. He only smirked roguishly seeing your instant dismay – What was the other thing, Aemond?

- I saw you bathing in the Driftmark waters I think… completely naked - he grinned with wild satisfaction, watching you flush a juicy blush. Oh Gods. It was your routine were you were a bit younger, you used to sneak out of the High Water at night, to take a bath in the nearby sea, to be alone. The coolness of the sea tides refreshed your body and relaxed it and it was the only thing you needed after a whole day of training or studying. Carantes constantly accompanied you during this activity, watching you from a distance and protecting you from prying eyes.

- Carantes was looking after me and protected me from any onlookers… Good old times – you muttered, sipping your wine in embarrassment. He laughed delightfully at your remark.

- Then maybe I should join you in such bath sometime? She would rest in peace while I would guard you no less carefully – he chuckled, rising from the chair and started walking towards you. You moved uneasily in your seat.

- Don’t be afraid, little doe. I’ve prepared another kind of bath for you now. Come – he stretched his arm and helped you stand up, the enticing smile never left his face.

- But the dessert…? – you hesitated for a moment, looking back all on those sweets waiting for you to consume them.

- My love, you are the dessert. You don’t need any of these to make yourself more sweet than you already are – he licked ostentatiously the frosting of cakes from your fingers, like he couldn't embarrass you more. He took your hand gently afterwards and led you to the bathroom.

He opened huge double doors and a large, gilded tub appeared before your eyes, filled with something dark… You stepped closer and the light from the many lighted candles around illuminated its contents for you. You froze. The bathtub was filled with blood.

- Don’t worry, it’s not human – he rushed to explain when he saw your dread. You looked at him stupefied.

- If it's not human, then whose is it? – you asked, not sure whether you wanted to know the answer.

- It’s dragon’s blood, Carantes and Vhagar’s, but Vhagar’s mostly – you gaped your mouth being even more flabbergasted – Don’t look at me like that, darling. I didn’t take it from them by myself. I asked the keepers from the Dragon Pit to do it. They were a bit surprised by my request, but they did quite well I must say.

- You want me to bath myself in their blood? Have you completely lost your mind? – you stared at him wondering whether he was soft in the head.

- Elaena… We may be not bound by blood, but our fire binds us. And this will seal our bond, it’s our dragons that make us invincible and you know what they say about Targaryens… - he whispered to your ear, licking your earlobe softly. He stood right behind you and his hands ran down your arms, making you shiver all over. He grabbed your waist and pulled you even closer to him, so your back were pressed to his firm chest, you felt it raising in a deep breath.

- I know what do they say. That you’re closer to gods than to men.

- Exactly. And now you’re one of us, a true Targaryen, ñuha jaesa (my goddess). Consider it as some kind of an initiation – with one swift move he peeled off your robe and it fell on the floor softly, leaving you in a translucent, defiant ‘dress’. But evidently it wasn’t enough for him as his nimble fingers untied the clasps on your shoulders, sliding the material down your arms, exposing your completely bare form to him. Chills ran through your entire body when you realized how much you were defenseless now, you had no way to defend yourself, he could do with you whatever he wished. His hand pulled back your hair, his lips were leaving soft, wet kisses from your jaw to the crook of your neck, his other hand gently traced your curves, exploring the mold of your breasts and the cavity of your waist. You gasped silently, his touch was as light as a feather, teasing your nerves and as blunt as a whip blow at the same time.

Moments later he stopped and took step forward, facing you. He stretched his arm and you caught his palm, letting him to guide you to the bathtub. You took a deep breath before you stood with one foot in it, still faltering.

- Slowly, let yourself get used to it – he cooed, helping you take first step in. You dipped one leg, still holding his hand tightly, feeling tepid, dense liquid sucking you in. You fizzled at the sensation and after a moment you took another step and now both your legs were floundering in quaint fluid. Aemond lowered his arm, keeping you strongly as before, letting you bend down and you immersed yourself fully, leaving your head above the surface. Your whole body was covered in burgundy red, some of your hair strands were coated in blood and tangled a bit. You shivered, still not believing yourself that you were doing this.

- How does it feel? – he asked, smiling lightly, his hand caressed your cheek gingerly. His eyes observed you carefully, looking for any signs of fear or discomfort.

- It’s… strange – you managed to murmur after a while, your skin was slowly getting used to viscosity of blood.

Prince only chuckled slightly in response and began to undress himself. And you got to admit it was quite a view. You watched his every stretched muscle and tendon as he took his leather doublet off, your gaze lowered to his abdomen – few veins popped out, making paths to his venter. You guessed he must had been already aroused, the sight of your naked body covered in burgundy was something he must have craved for a long time. When he stripped his trousers your guesses were confirmed – his manhood was pretty rigid, wobbling a bit in the air. You turned your head back, abashed like a little, inexperienced girl, which you most certainly were not. He smirked incredulously seeing your unexpected confusion and as if nothing had happened he entered the tub, sitting himself on the opposite side. He closed his eyes at feeling of sticky liquid, wrapping every inch of his statuesque silhouette and hummed with content. This man really was uncanny and unpredictable in his desires.

- Come here, my love – he stretched his arms towards you and grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him, so now you were straddling his lap. Your folds were rubbing mercilessly against his thigh and you wanted desperately to gain some friction but he stopped you by squeezing his hands on your waist warningly. You whimpered pitifully but you didn’t dare to push your luck on him, not yet.

- Drink it – he brushed your lips with his fingers dripping with blood. You opened your lips obediently and sucked the fluid off his digits greedily with a loud pop at the end. He smiled being satisfied with your responsiveness and tucked some of your loose hair strands behind your ear.

- Good girl, such a good little dove – he praised you and crashed his lips against yours in a open-mouthed, sloppy kiss. Remains of blood were dripping down your chin and stained his mouth, he growled at the sensation. When he broke the kiss he stared at you meaningly, pushing you further his upper thigh.

You started to grind yourself against him, rocking your hips in a steady rhythm. You felt wetness gathering in your core, as you were rubbing your needy cunt against his tense muscles. Aemond groaned feeling your growing arousal, but he didn’t let you stop, clutching your hips strongly and forcing you to move faster, harder. You squealed as his pelvis started to scrub your clit, teasing already oversensitive bud, but you needed something more, you needed release and you couldn’t reach it by mere stimulation. His cast-iron dick stroked your groins irritatingly and you were ready to give all the treasures of the world for him to fuck you with it, to stop bantering you. You grabbed his cock and squeezed it firmly, your hand was stroking it at a deadly slow pace, not letting him hasten you in any way.

- Fuck…! – he hissed being annoyed by your ponderosity as you were vexing him on purpose. But you were also merciful, you couldn't torment him indefinitely, you wanted pleasure as well and you were willing to do anything to get it.

You raised yourself and positioned on his crotch, head of his member was brushing your folds leaking with slick. He stopped your hand as you wanted to aim it at your core. The vision of fucking you in the tub filled with blood somehow restrained him, even if he craved to do it for a long time, his eyes betrayed his concern – he wasn’t sure whether you wanted it knowingly and if you were ready for it. But you resolved his doubts when you slipped the tip of his cock between your folds and a moment later his entire length sank inside of you.

A sonorous yell escaped your lips when you felt him tearing you apart, you weren’t as prepared and stretched as you thought you were. You slowly sticked yourself on him, feeling every inch of his hard member wiping your walls ruthlessly. You started rocking your hips at a leisurely pace, wanting to spin out your insides for him more, your hands landed on his strained torso to gain some support. His hands rested on your hips, holding them steadily but he didn’t force you to move faster neither pressured himself into you deeper as he remained resistless. You looked into his eye – a pure love, was flowing from it, this was gaze of a madly enamored man, ready to give himself to his beloved, to give up his power and control in order to you take the reins. You had to admit, you were quite surprised by his sudden surrender as he almost always dominated, he loved to be in possession, in fact he was the most possessive man you knew and now he was at your feet, Aemond goddamn Targaryen, One-Eyed Prince was at your every command.

In your boldness, you allowed yourself to take off his eyepatch, he didn’t seem to be amazed by that as he didn’t stop you at all, a sheer glimmer of sapphire lit your field of view and it was so beautiful, enlightened by the candlelight. Then you pulled the velvet ribbon off his hair, blood on your hand stained them, griming the perfect silver-blonde hairdoC. Later you smeared his cheeks and the rest of his face with scarlet red, painting smudged patterns, like on the face of a warrior before battle. He chuckled at your tomfoolery, kissing your skin from neckline down to your sternum.

You resumed your hips movements, they were more rough and quicker now as you fucked yourself on him relentlessly, your shameless moans increased as well. His hands held your waist and small of your back robustly, but still he didn’t do anything to take over control or impose a rhythm – he liked that he wasn’t in charge, you could tell by his languid look. He was breathing heavily when he wasn’t kissing you feverishly, his lips attacked your breasts, nibbling your hard nipples, you tilted your head back sinking in pure ecstasy and you changed the angle of your moves unintentionally, he groaned feeling your pussy squeezing around him more tightly. You loved the way your bodies were rubbing against each other, all leaking and dripping with blood, clammy liquid sticking to your skin, your hair entirely messed, disheveled, blotchy in burgundy red. His cock was slamming into you incessantly and you tried your best to rock your bottom to get the best friction you could, but it was insufficient, you needed his assistance to reach your pleasure. He saw your helplessness and smiled encouragingly, caressing your back gingerly as if he tried to soothe your restlessness somehow.

- Let me help, byka hontes (little bird) – he cooed into your ear, licking the earlobe. You clutched your hands around his, allowing him to gain control and he started to push his length into you vigorously, sticking you like a piece of meat on the spit.

You screamed loudly as his cock was piercing you like a sharpened spear, ravaging your already strung walls, hitting all the right spots. He took advantage of opportunity and seized your clit with his thumb, circling it nimbly, making you stick your fingers into his shoulders painfully, leaving deep bruises. He didn’t stop pounding into you at breakneck speed, blood was spilling out of the tub, forming quite large puddles on the floor. You felt your cunt was clenching around his cock in chaotic waves, you were pretty close to your climax. Aemond threw his head back at the sensation, panting heavily, not stopping his frantic thrusts, his fingers were sinking into delicate mold of your middle. You decided that his exposed neck was the perfect place to relieve the tension of the upcoming orgasm and you drowned your teeth into his pulsating artery, licking it and leaving a huge mark in the color of a ripe plum. He hissed at first but after a moment he chuckled amusingly, visibly enjoying that little dose of pain you gave him. He slapped your ass sappily, kneading your buttock like it was a piece of dough. You laid your nose in the crook of his neck, whimpering quietly, your nose was tantalized by his scent of musk, sweat and dried blood. Only moments separated you from the peak, you couldn’t stop trembling, he kept on rutting into you like a fasted animal, maneuvering your hips at a deadly pace.

- Come, my love. Milk all over my cock – he ordered, looking into your eyes piercingly, sapphire in his eye socket gleamed blindingly and as if by magic you carried out the order, your walls clasped around his dick turbulently, a wave of your climax washed over you like a flood, your whole body shivered and if it weren't for Aemond and his strong arms you would have fallen and drowned in that bloody grease.

He was still holding you tightly when you came from your high, your juices trickled down his shaft, milking it entirely. Something for you was missing, he stopped moving, but he didn’t pull out of you, his member was still hard, even growing inside of you, you could feel every vain popping on it. You looked at him questioningly, being afraid that maybe he didn’t enjoyed it as much as you did and for the very first time you have failed him as a lover.

- What’s wrong, my Prince? Why didn’t you…

- Shh, ñuha jorrāelagon (my love). Tonight all I want is to satisfy my newlywed wife, your pleasure is far more important for me than my own – he hushed you, peppering your face with tender kisses, hugging your still shaking body as he wanted you to feel safe within his solid embrace.

- Oh no, no, no, not on my damn watch – you scrambled out of the bathtub using remnants of your strength, standing on your still wobbly feet, you almost slipped on the blood pool, but at the last moment you grabbed the edge of the tub and saved yourself from a painful fall.

- Easy, Princess. Don’t hurt yourself – he hopped out too and wanted to grab your arms to secure you, but you pushed him away in an offended manner, being enraged by him calling you like that. You really hated that title.

- Don’t call me… Ugh. Lay on the bed – you ordered him peremptorily, still frowning. He grinned amused by your grimace but he obediently laid on his back on the bed, his jolly smile turned into a shifty smirk as he was waiting impatiently for your next move.

You took one of candles from the chandelier and approached the bed slowly, all of the sudden his cheeky smirk faded into a wry face, his only eye was scared of what you might want to do with that candle. Now you were the one smiling cunningly as you kneeled with one leg on the bed and you brought little flame closer to your stomach, heat was stroking your skin but you didn’t feel obvious pain – it was rather something between tickling and pinching, quite pleasant feeling you had to admit.

- Elaena, what are you doing…?! You’re gonna burn yourself! – he squalled as you literally applied the blaze to your abdomen, testing the waters. Nothing happened, it didn’t left any marks or reddening, it didn’t hurt at all – it was like a feather stroke. Aemond was staring at you flabbergasted, his mouth were wide opened in shock and you continued playing with candle, guiding it to your breasts now, teasing sensitive nipples. It was weird, but it felt good like glowing coals touching delicate twigs.

- It works… I didn't believe it until now, but it's really happening – you whispered, fascinated by glimmer dancing on your curves jauntily.

- What works…? Can you tell me what the hell is going on? – Prince was still seemingly confused by your discovery.

- Blood magic, ñuha valzȳrys (my husband). We’re fireproof now, you can thank our dragons for that – you smiled reassuringly and tipped the candle slightly, just enough to drop a little bit of melted wax on his venter. He hissed silently at the sensation as it left a sticky, small stain but he didn’t seem to be hurt in any way, quite the opposite, his expression told you that he enjoyed this in his own fashion – See? Nothing happened, I’ll show you that this can be enjoyable, but you have to obey me and follow my instructions – you teased his pubis around his stiffened cock which was twitching at your peculiar caress.

- Nyke dīnagon ribazmoqitta ābra, jaeses issi caras (I’ve married a mad woman, the gods are cruel) – he whimpered when you chafed tip of his length with fire, giggling like a frenzied sorceress.

- Īlon issi ribazmoqitta valzȳrys, ao gīmigon ziry hen se rhaenagon (We both are mad, you knew it from the beginning) – you tutted, letting few more drops of wax drip down on his cock, covering it in tacky, white tallow. You bowed your head and licked it off thoroughly, your tongue swept his entire manhood from the shaft to the tip, not leaving a single bead. When you finished, you kissed the head fondly and looked at him afterwards, checking his reaction. He was rapturous, his eye closed in a pure bliss, and his hands grasped the sheets to relieve tension.

- Remind me your House words, dear husband. Fire and blood, isn’t it? Ao teptan nyke ānogar se kesan tepagon ao perzys (You gave me blood and I will give you fire) – your promise was like a blessing and a curse at the same time for him; a threat and a delight. You glanced at him one more time before you continued your ‘tortures’ – he was waiting dutifully but you could tell that if you prolonged the anticipation he would jerk your head off and force you to swallow him whole and you weren’t going to give him his power back, it was too addictive.

You brushed his entire cock with candle flame, watching it quiver haphazardly, enjoying this little botheration. You observed as his skin grew juicy red, his head was deep purple probably because of overstimulation. Before he could do or say anything, you put out the flame with your lips, swallowing the candle and licking it through suggestively and when you finished you threw the useless thing on the floor. Aemond was literally begging you with his eye, with his whole face expression to stop tormenting him and fuck him with your mouth already.

You graciously put his misery to an end when you started to lick tip of his dangling cock, gradually at first, your tongue swirled over it briskly, gathering all the precum which was leaking in large amounts and you used it to provide a better glide for your hand. He tasted somewhat salty with strong musky aftertaste, it was a very quaint flavor but it made your pussy clenching at the sensation every time nonetheless. When you added your hand movements, rubbing all the way down his shaft and spreading his juices, he was moaning like a wounded doe, pleading you for more. He was at your complete mercy, you could do whatever you want to him or his member. His groans made you wet again, you could feel your liquids soaking down your inner thigh and you desperately searched for any kind of friction, your finger instinctively wandered to your exposed clit, making small circles, just to ease the tenseness a bit.

Guttural moans were escaping your mouth while you were pleasuring yourself with one hand, the other one kept on grinding on your husband’s manhood, your lips sucked every drop of his juices he gave you, licking, stroking and nibbling his entire length. Your head was swinging back and forth his stiff dick, which you swore was getting harder and bigger in your mouth, making it almost impossible to swallow it in a one smooth move. You tried your best to keep steady, yet rousing pace without having to take a breath or choking but apparently this wasn’t enough for him, he needed more, he needed you to take all of him, to hit the back of your throat to release himself fully.

He grabbed your hair, gently at first and started guiding you into his length, forcing you to gulp him down inch by inch deeper. You let him take the control as you felt it stimulated you more, your two fingers were brushing through your drenched folds, searching for more attrition. His hand was imposing an ever faster pace, your head was bobbing, his cock was nudging your palate at a harsh pace, causing you to gag slightly. You had to breathe through your nose, preventing yourself from strangling, tears were welling up in your eyes but strangely you liked it, the feeling of being used fueled you even more.

- Such a good girl, taking my cock so well… As if you were made for it – he praised you, groaning at each poke of his penis at your back throat. He didn’t slow down with his hand, on the contrary, he even added gentle thrusts of his hips, hitting your mouth with full strength.

You couldn’t stand the tensity between your legs, captivating your core like a prisoner, your digits sneaked into your wet slit, moving in a frenzied rhythm. You groaned pitifully as he was fucking your throat, using you like a common whore and you could only masturbate yourself to reach another release somehow. But you loved it, you loved every second of it, even if you were almost choking, crying and felt humiliated in some way. You loved to give him pleasure, to cherish his sizable cock, you loved his taste, when he was leaking with arousal caused by you. You loved hearing his praises of how beautiful you were when you were sucking him, how you were good at it, no woman who taught him sexual techniques could be compared to you and he would throw himself into Vhagar’s fire just to feel your lips around him once more.

Aemond was nearly close to his end, you could tell by all veins popping out on his dick, how taut it was and it was so cast-iron that it almost hurt you like a whip tearing apart your poor throat. His grip on your head was still heavy as his pushes became more chaotic and out of order. You felt your release coming too, your heated, bedraggled cunt started to squeeze around your fingers, all you needed to come was that one more ‘shot’.

- Fuck, I’m going to cum… so hard… Take all of it, take all of my seed… - he cried breathily and you nodded obediently, ready to receive everything he would give you.

Few more thrusts and pokes of his cock at your throat later he came, shooting his warm cum into your waiting mouth, making sure none drop would be wasted. You swallowed it willingly, licking your lips greedily, but several trickles of white fluid were running down your chin anyway, he certainly did not spare anything when he released himself. A moment later you also reached your climax, the second one that night, but this one swept you off absolutely, you ran out of steam as you fell to the edge of bed, you felt like you were going to faint any minute, you were so exhausted.

Aemond pulled you to him closely, holding you in a secure embrace, as you both laid against each other, panting heavily. He caressed your back tenderly, a pure bliss was written on his face and yet his vigilant eye made sure you didn't drift away, his soft voice whispered sweet nothings into your ear to keep you awake.

After a while, when your dizziness faded away, you looked around the bed and sheets. They were stained with dried up blood, now becoming more brown, as well as your bodies, entwined in a strange matter, your husband clearly liked to curl his legs and arms around you in whatever way he only could.

- My, we’ve made quite a mess – you said, still not believing that this was all because of your doings, although you had to admit that this pleasure was worth such a muddle. Prince chuckled heartily at your remark, kissing your nose affectionately.

- Now everyone will believe that we’ve consummated our marriage and I took your maidenhood – he grinned seemingly being proud of himself.

- They'll sooner believe that you’ve butchered a dozen of maidens on that bed – you chortled bluffly, until your belly ached. Aemond guffawed together with you, both of you were in tears now.

- Ñuha byka sorrea. Ñuha mēre se mērī drēje jorrāelagon (My little witch. My one and only true love.) – he oozed compliments into your ear, peppering your whole face, neck and cleavage with pecks. He was literally bursting with emotions, you've rarely experienced this version of him. And you liked that one, not that you were picky, you enjoyed his usual defensive and secretive attitude as this was an essence of One-Eyed Prince, but you were proud with yourself that you managed to open him up enough to trust you fully and not being afraid of showing his all feelings to you.

When you rested a bit and gained enough strength to get up from bed, Aemond ordered servants to prepare another bath, this time an ordinary one with water and to change the sheets to clean ones. Then he carried you to the tub, placed you gently in steaming water and washed your whole body, scrubbing carefully every inch of your skin in order to get rid of refractory blood stains. When he cleaned you up, he popped into the water as well and did the same with himself and you tried to distract him by splashing on him and cackling like a little frolicking child who just found the best new fun to play along. But you had it coming when he spouted an entire jug of water onto your face and kissed your lips passionately after to silence any of your protests or grumbles.

At last he helped you to get out of the bath, drying your skin and wiping off all the moisture. You were already feeling drowsy and literally falling asleep in his arms as you barely remembered him carrying you back to bed. All you remembered was the hazy sound of his whisper lulling you to sleep.

- Ñuha laiko ābrazȳrys. Mērī ñuhon. Syt sir se va moriot (My beloved wife. Only mine. For now and always).

*****

Next morning you were obliged to bid farewell to the guests and you went to the main courtyard to do your duty. Aemond decided to stay with Aegon at The Keep to ‘do not rub salt into injury’ and you were almost certain that his older brother wrung every piquant detail of your wedding night from your husband as his disgusting curiosity was never satisfied. You only hoped that your Prince was sensible enough to keep the most peculiar things, including bloody bath and fire play for himself.

You hugged your mother whole-heartedly, dissolving in her maternal warmth. Rhaenys made no secret of leaving you with a heavy heart, but she had to after all.

- My sweet, little girl. My heart is breaking at the very thought of leaving you in this nest of vipers. But that's the way it has to be, you have to be with your husband for now – she wailed, stroking your arms fondly – And remember, one signal from you and I'll come with Meleys and set them all on fire – and there she was, The Queen Who Neves Was, but should have always been.

- Do not forget about Vhagar. You have now control over her – your father interjected, joining in a hug. You wanted this moment to last forever, for your parents to stay in that pose, in a loving embrace. But you had to let them go ultimately.

Lord Corlys kissed your forehead for the last time and guided his wife to the ship, moored in the dock. Next in line was Rhaenyra, who visibly felt out of sorts, but she embraced you kindly and wished you luck, congratulating you on your marriage once more. After this rather short courtesy she rushed towards Syrax who was waiting impatiently for her Mistress near the coast.

Jacaerys alongside with your nieces, Baela and Rhaena approached you and showered with tender hugs and kisses, Jace even assured you that you could count on him as your own brother and that he would help you whenever you needed it. You were so moved by his sudden promise that you kissed both of his cheeks and held him so tightly that you might have broke his ribs. After a short moment he peeled you off him, chuckling lightly and kissed your forehead before he and girls followed their mother, mounting Vermax and Moondancer.

You were left alone with none other than The Rogue Prince. Daemon looked at you longingly, a shadow of pain was written on his face, but he stood unwavering, not moving an inch towards your direction.

- How did the negotiations go? Rhaenyra seemed to be a bit… uptight – you got close enough to him so he was within your arm's reach. He rolled his eyes at your apparently rhetorical question and smiled contemptuously.

- You know how they went, little doe. My wife would never humble herself before the Hightowers and that usurper cunt of a king on the throne and I would rather throw myself to dragons than to allow any of it – he spitted through his teeth, words oozed from his mouth like a lethal poison. He has never hidden his contempt for The Greens and he was the last person to bow himself before an enemy.

- Daemon, I want you to know…you and Rhaenyra, that you don’t have to worry about my loyalty. I will never betray you and will always stand by you no matter what happens. And I am ready to follow you into battle, even if it means abandoning my husband and fighting against him – you laid your hand on his firm chest, your other one grabbed his forearm to highlight your words. His listless gaze turned into more sentimental one, a familiar sparkle lit his irises and you knew that glance full well. He always looked at you like that whenever he wanted to console you or to just take care of you.

- I know, Ziry-zaldrīzes (Dragoness) – he cooed, his warm breath brushed your neck as his lips stroked your cheek, his touch was featherlight.

His fingers caressed your jaw gently before he kissed you slowly, passionately, savoring every bit of it as if he wanted to keep this moment forever. You leaned forward, deepening the kiss, your hands brushed through his short, silky blonde hair. You wanted him to stay with you so badly that you were ready to sneak out to some boondocks for a little while, so you could both enjoy yourselves, away from the world and from prying eyes. But you knew it was impossible, he already had his Queen to whom he was faithful and to whom you were no match, you were always just a backup option, the second one in line. At least that was what you told yourself so far.

- Kesan jiōragon ao hen hen kesīr, sesīr lo īles se mōrī run nyke gaomagon isse ñuha ābrar (I will get you out of here, even if it was the last thing I’d do in my life) – he finally broke the kiss and brushed his finger over your bottom lip, unable to bear your doe look – For now, try not to brawl around too much – he pecked your lips for the last time, smuggling a small piece of paper into your hand. You looked at him crestfallen but he didn’t say anything as he walked away, trying to curb Caraxes whims who apparently couldn't wait for his master to order him to soar up, wiggling his exorbitantly long neck and screeching.

You watched as The Blood Wyrm rose up, spreading his large wings widely and disappeared into thin air with Daemon on his back. You sighed with resignation, looking at the paper in your hand. You unfolded carefully sealed note and you froze the second your eyes landed on written words.  

‘An eye for an eye, a son for a son. Lucerys shall be avenged.’

 

And that's it, how do you like the Fire & Blood theme? :D I hope your imagination enjoyed every bit of it! And guys, Blood&Cheese is coming! I need to warn you, I haven't read the book yet and I doubt I will, because I don't really like the the way it's written, the chronicle format is something I try to avoid to be honest. But I'll do my best to not mess up events too much as I already have read a lot of summaries and other stuff and I think it's going to be okay :D That's not it, because in next part you're gonna get... Aemond&Aegon duo! A brotherly competition in fucking you blind. I know I supposed to write this as a separate fic, but I thought it fits the theme of the series very well. And Aegon is such a little, flithy shit, it's going be so much fun writing threesome fic including this wretch :D

 

Thanks for reading and I will appreciate any kind of feedback in comments!

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What do you think happened to Daenaera ?

*EDITED* 10/7/23

GRRM has a habit of not developing or bringing back some female characters past their relationships with certain male, more central characters--even with those women being forces of nature themselves--while their male partners, sons, brothers, fathers, etc. go on to perform various political deeds on a grander scale/reconnection to the main story being told. To iterate, women--before the main series--do not get noted as doing much of anything in comparison to their male counterparts in the history books Fire and Blood and A World of Ice and Fire partly because, yes, women will not have the same access to power or mobility as men in this world AND because they are supposed to be the first Targ women to be pushed out of politics after Rhaenyra was ousted....but again, Baela and Daena at least?! Those women who directly defied physical and other sorts of limitations on their bodies and choices from men? What series of events happen to make them peace out of the public or doing anything? Why aren't they doing or advising anything during the first Blackfyre War? We don't have to hear absolutely nothing of these women to recognize how they would/could be excluded from main politics, and it's just inconsistent with their characters, which raises the question of their inactivity! The absence of an answer or a story where they act is the narrative GRRM writes really just reinforcing the idea that women do not have as important roles in a central political conflict or their stories to tell as their male counterparts. (Again, this is a critique of the writing.)

Examples, with some repetitions:

Baela Targaryen's lack of a reaction towards Alyn's infidelity while we get his mention with Elaena. Was Baela dead, or did their relationship simply dissolve into a semi-friendly platonic one before Elaena ever came into the picture?

We don't hear of Daena after she births Daemon Blackfyre. What was she doing during her son's rebellion, when did she die, we don't know.

Aelora goes "mad" after allegedly killing her own brother, is made the next heir, and was "attacked" by leaders of a rebellion against her family (likely a sexual assault, GRRM also loves those) and she kills herself shortly thereafter. What was her life like in the interim, what was her relationship with her brother like, how did she--if she did--prepare to become Queen?

Daenerys Targaryen, aside from having been in love with Daemon Blackfyre, being forced to marry a much older man, and raising the Water Gardens at Dorne, never spoken of again. What other stuff did she do in Dorne, even if just to encourage good relations between her maiden house and the Martells?

[ASoIaF] Lyanna dies of childbirth after having Rhaegar's kid; Elia is sick for most of her adult life and pretty much out of commission to her death and rape.

[ASoIaF] Shae dies by choked-out-by-lover when she has been portrayed mostly as a passive means to Tyrion's coping mechanisms and we do not get information on how she's forced to live mostly by herself to avoid death in her pursuance of safety from Tyrion's taking her on as a paramour. (Her sexual agency in conflict sometimes with her need for protection as a young family-less commonborn girl [18yrs old] pushing her to consider depending on an aristocratic man she probably wouldn't have had relations with if she weren't vulnerable as she was).

Daenaera may have been a smiley woman who managed to help Aegon III be less depressed, but she didn't seem the political, big personality, or big-society-changing sort of person either. So it's easier to write her off and have fans less curious of her than Baela. Due to her personality, I think she was more or less just there publicly and performed the similar sort of actions any Queen Consort is expected to take (in terms of being as less personal about it and looking at her involvement with administration, public policy, economic stuff, etc., what, if there were any, her political actions): running the royal household and its arrears, servants, managers, etc. when she's not with her children/ladies-in-waiting or looking for some private time, quietly advising her husband, maintaining whatever little ties Aegon has with however small number of court nobles were seeking his favor or hers, and making sure he wasn't too deep in his depression. Ladies (noble women) and royal women were tasked with maintaining bonds between those within their own house as well as between those external houses' bond with their own husbands/children's--her maiden house, even.

It feels like Daenaera would have been a bit lonelier (sometimes) and feel more helpless regarding her family than other Queen Consorts that existed thus far (Visenya, Rhaenys, Alysanne, Aemma, Alicent) because of Aegon III's not bothering to engage with the nobles and is withdrawals even from his inner circle--he was most likely just that depressed and had irritable spells-- thus giving her less persons to interact with and possibly become closer to AND her feeling like she couldn't really help him a much as she wanted to. It's also possible that with her being his Consort/the Queen, first brought in to help his political and emotional needs (Unwin Peake), and his wife/romantic companion she felt throughout their marriage that she had a pressing desire and compulsion to make his days as happy and easy as possible...so a smiley Shonda Rhimes Queen Catherine with a husband with a much less severe mental illness.

How does this affect her relationships with her kids? It doesn't seem like she had terrible relationships or even strained ones with them from the little we get of her, Aegon, Baelor, Daena, Daeron, Elaena, and Rhaena's lives before Aegon's death. But it is quite obvious that: with their 5 kids birthed in relatively close succession (as an anon reasoned); Daena herself being named either after Daenaera or Aegon's father Daemon and Daena naming her son after said grandfather that she was close with her parents and most of her siblings (yes, we know about her admiration for Daeron). She and her sisters came out more or less well adjusted, while of the two boys, Baelor came out a little cuckoo. Check out what I say HERE about these boys, but ultimately Rhaenyra and her son/their dad's legacies affected how they thought they should augment their dynasty's power, prestige, and relationship with the nobles. Thus he was brasher than some wanted him to be and eager for victories. So if she hadn't existed, the family would have definitely been more fraught and emotionally alienated from each other, but there's only so much Daenaera could do before AND if she ever lived into Daeron's or Baelor's reigns.

But I digress and am loath to present these as 100% facts publicly...even when I really think this was the case.

Daenaera most likely lived as most Queen Consorts did but without the death of childbirth. GRRM likes to at least "announce" when that happens. She served the purpose of getting Aegon "happier" and ending Unwin Peake's machinations with the Maiden Ball. Very important things, but much more limited.

[clankingdragoninn-blog]

Ser Jon Waters, a Man of Mystery

When recently discussing bastards being legitimized & inheriting, I came upon an interesting question. Why was Jon Waters, the son of Alyn Velayron & Elaena Targaryen, so famous? Being born around 175 he was born during a time when the greatest knights in all of Westeros were born, why do we not know what he did?

Baelor Breakspear & Daemon Blackfyre (the one true King of Westeros) were born in 170. Daenerys Targaryen (not that one), the daughter of Aegon IV & sister of Daeron II was born in 172 along with Aegor Rivers (Bittersteel). Now we know the legendary tales, only if partially, of Daemon, Bittersteel, & Baelor. We know Daenerys marriage was very important because it brought Dorne into the realm. As famous as these people were & as famous as their parents were, Jon Waters comes from equally legendary stock.

Jon Waters was born approximately 175, to an unmarried, but very much in love couple. Not to mention a pretty infamous couple. Master of Ships Alyn Velaryon & Master of Coin in all but name Elaena Targaryen. Alyn Velaryon was the son of the Sea Snake, Lord Corlys Velaryon. Master of Ships himself & one of the richest people in the world. Although Corlys had to claim his son Laenor fathered the bastard Alyn, everyone knew the truth of the matter, because of Laenor's orientation of course. Alyn went on to prove his worth in the Dance of Dragons along with his brother Addam. After the conclusion of the Dance when Alyn became Lord of Driftmark & Master of Ships he went on to subdue the Red Kraken, Dalton Greyjoy. He also became a close ally of Princess Aliandra Martell of Dorne. Impressing princesses was apparently easy work for that Dragonseed. Then we have Princess Elaena Targaryen. One of the most interesting Targaryens hands down ever. Elaena married 3 times and had 7 kids. Having the memorable quote and I'm paraphrasing, excuse me, if seven is good enough for the gods, it's good enough for me. Jon Waters along with his twin sister Jeyne were the first children Elaena had. She went on to marry Ossifer Plumm who died after seeing her naked on their wedding night. It's also rumored she got more beautiful as she got older (what a lucky Manwoody!) Their "son" from that night would have his own interesting tale, but I digress. She married twice more, first to Ronnel Penrose out of duty. He was Master of Coin but Daeron II needed Elaena running the numbers. Ronnel was a front so to say. And finally out of love later in life to Michael Manwoody. Which brings us back to her original love Lord Alyn Velaryon & the son she bore him, Ser Jon Waters.

Since we now know the people involved in this mystery that is Ser Jon Waters, let's investigate the facts. In 187 there was a Tourney in Kings Landing in honor of Princess Daenerys marrying Prince Maron Martell. This Tourney is memorable for the historic union, but it's also notable because Baelor Breakspear unseated Daemon Blackfyre in the final tilt. On a side note, this would've been one of great Tourneys ever be witnessed. Baelor, Daemon, Bittersteel, Jon Waters (prob a squire), Martell Princes, Gwayne Corbray & other KG members. Plus as nobodysuspectsthebutterfly on Tumblr & Malora Hightower on Twitter points out Ser Quentyn Ball, the Grey Lion (before he was Grey), and maybe a young Uther Underleaf! Just an incredible lineup. But here I am rabbit holing again! The point being, Jon was too young for infamy. If he did something cool at the Tourney, we'd know. So that event is out.

In 196 the First Blackfyre Rebellion took place. This battle is the backdrop for so much foreshadowing it isn't even funny. Great battles, Daemon v Gwayne. Great strategies, Hammer & Anvil. Ravens Teeth trickery. The greatest knights in the realm gathered to King Daemon I Blackfyre to challenge his claim to the thrown occupied by his half brother Daeron II. Brother v brother! The realm split in two with some of the most legendarily badass stories ever! Yet no mention of our mystery man Ser Jon Waters. This really means nothing though. So much went on during this time, his story could be the Rogue One of how Bloodraven uncovered Daemons plans. Who know? So jury is still out on this event.

In 199 there was a Tourney at Storms End. This was the Tourney that Ser Arlan of Pennytree broke anywhere between 4 & 7 lances against the great Baelor Breakspear, depending on how many ales he had. Again we don't have much info here but since Baelor was in Tourney, I'm guessing he won. So this event is more than likely out.

In 206 we come across my favorite choice of for how Ser Jon Waters became famous. Lord Dondarrion & Lord Caron drive the Vulture King out of the Red Mountains and kill him for treason. This is the only tidbit of info we get but Lord Alyn had a very good relationship with Princess Aliandra Martell as we recall. So if I can guess a little bit, it wouldn't surprise me if Jon was a squire for a Martell. He would be out of moms new husbands way but still close enough for his mom state of mind, since House Penrose seat is the Parchments in the Storm Lands. So in this battle I'm guessing Jon distinguished himself. Since I'm basing this on very weak evidence, I'm probably dead wrong.

In 211 there was the second Blackfyre Rebellion but there was also an Ironborn raid on Fair Isle. This raid was lead by Dalton Greyjoy's son Dagon. We learn in D&E that Lord Beron Stark is gathering swords to drive Ironborn out of North. We also hear that Dagon has raided from the Arbor to the North! A feat not duplicated to my buddy Emmett Booth's favorite player Euron Greyjoy does it in 300. And we know the remarkable journey Euron has set himself on, so this is probably the most likely time for Ser Jon Water to become famous. Jon's dad Alyn fought the Red Kraken, Dalton. So it would be a just ending for Dagon as well. Fall to another great sea fairing Velaryon. Then you'd have two generations of Velaryons ending Greyjoy raiding. A more than apt resolution to the mysterious life of Ser Jon.

In 219 the Third Blackfyre Rebellion took place. This is also a cool story but it's kind of a black eye for the Crown so I don't think any legends were made during this Rebellion. Haegon dishonorably murdered & Bittersteel escaping won't inspire many stories.

So there we have it, the mystery of Ser Jon Waters, possibly maybe a great captain & warrior like his father. Or not. Only time will tell!